Well, if life were nothing but the good, we wouldn't have piles of ____ to plant our roses in now would we?
The remains of the day
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Well, if life were nothing but the good, we wouldn't have piles of ____ to plant our roses in now would we?
I guess there's always a silver lining. I wouldn't have been on today. But I barely slept last night, and all day today I've been in massive pain. Focusing on my essay has been next to impossible. So, I've been here, distracting my brain from the discomfort as best I can. And you two get to be today's silver lining, the good in not getting my work done. lol.
And, in respect to the song, wow, what great words.
I thank my lucky stars every day that I had a good mother, as without
her, I might have been tossed around the country from home to home, and I was not the kind of
child who could come out of a situation like that and do well. I was very quiet, very nervous, always
worried what tomorrow would bring, had no confidence, hung in the corner, (still do ), never felt like
I belonged, always admired others, as though I was nothing, Now I only have that one problem about the
corner, but I just giggle at myself, and accept my little idiosyncrosis.
OK, back to the garden, just needed a little break, and a drink - oops -milk of course.
I thank my lucky stars every day that I had a good mother, as without
her, I might have been tossed around the country from home to home, and I was not the kind of
child who could come out of a situation like that and do well. I was very quiet, very nervous, always
worried what tomorrow would bring, had no confidence, hung in the corner, (still do ), never felt like
I belonged, always admired others, as though I was nothing, Now I only have that one problem about the
corner, but I just giggle at myself, and accept my little idiosyncrosis.
OK, back to the garden, just needed a little break, and a drink - oops -milk of course.
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Karrie
The work isn't ready to be born yet.... give it time.....
Taloola
I was at the end of a long line of totally self-absorbed sisters so my chief role was to stay out of their way and be as quiet and tidy as I could be so I didn't incur their notice and wrath. My brother picked up on the action and gave me some of the attention I needed - showing me things he thought I would be interested in which gave me an edge over the other girls hehe....like throwing a neat spiral football, learning how to serve a killer
just over the net tennis ball....playing hockey..... horseback riding.....and collecting all kinds of bugs and stones.
Not being one of them still hangs around my neck once in a while, especially with a large crowd of women .... I tend to keep my own counsel, like to listen and observe rather than draw attention....and enjoy one on one conversation the most.... in a quiet place with a good friend.
Corners aren't a bad thing - they give you a wide perspective on all the activity.
The work isn't ready to be born yet.... give it time.....
Taloola
I was at the end of a long line of totally self-absorbed sisters so my chief role was to stay out of their way and be as quiet and tidy as I could be so I didn't incur their notice and wrath. My brother picked up on the action and gave me some of the attention I needed - showing me things he thought I would be interested in which gave me an edge over the other girls hehe....like throwing a neat spiral football, learning how to serve a killer
just over the net tennis ball....playing hockey..... horseback riding.....and collecting all kinds of bugs and stones.
Not being one of them still hangs around my neck once in a while, especially with a large crowd of women .... I tend to keep my own counsel, like to listen and observe rather than draw attention....and enjoy one on one conversation the most.... in a quiet place with a good friend.
Corners aren't a bad thing - they give you a wide perspective on all the activity.
Hey Curiosity.
It was born well enough for my husband to be impressed with its beginning, and the ending is still stewing away in my brain. It will be birthed soon. My next essay, I think, will be on bilingualism, and it too is being mulled as we speak. I'm working along at a good pace, and my husband has been forgoing tv to instead chat with me each night about my psych material. He's been an awesome study buddy, and now that the house stuff, renoes and sale and all, are finished, he's focused all his attention on helping me acheive my goals. It's been a real joy.
It's neat to hear you and talloola talk about your real life persona's, because they so mirror mine. I was the middle child, and my older sister was a screaming storm of defiance. My dad was a drinker, and she was a fighter, and between the two of them, they kept the house in constant upheaval. I stayed quiet, stayed small, stayed out of everyone's way and did my best to create peace where and when I could. I still do that today, but have learned to find my voice a bit more.
It was born well enough for my husband to be impressed with its beginning, and the ending is still stewing away in my brain. It will be birthed soon. My next essay, I think, will be on bilingualism, and it too is being mulled as we speak. I'm working along at a good pace, and my husband has been forgoing tv to instead chat with me each night about my psych material. He's been an awesome study buddy, and now that the house stuff, renoes and sale and all, are finished, he's focused all his attention on helping me acheive my goals. It's been a real joy.
It's neat to hear you and talloola talk about your real life persona's, because they so mirror mine. I was the middle child, and my older sister was a screaming storm of defiance. My dad was a drinker, and she was a fighter, and between the two of them, they kept the house in constant upheaval. I stayed quiet, stayed small, stayed out of everyone's way and did my best to create peace where and when I could. I still do that today, but have learned to find my voice a bit more.
Karrie
Good for you and you are so lucky your husband is a willing partner - some things are best bounced off another to get the right formation....
Family dynamics are of huge interest to me because of my own history - and I think much of our coping skills are learned from our birth order even if we are an only child of a couple. Much can be learned from interaction with siblings or family peers such as cousins, and is as important as our parental guidance (or lack of it). It is how we learn to express our needs, compete for attention, develop our individuality, and find our sense of belonging and importance.
Your dad and your sister taught you much about your own choices in being an adult....
because you had comparisons to work with. Your 'voice' is probably much more reasoned and determined when it is used because you know how defeating it can be when over-used or misused.
Good for you and you are so lucky your husband is a willing partner - some things are best bounced off another to get the right formation....
Family dynamics are of huge interest to me because of my own history - and I think much of our coping skills are learned from our birth order even if we are an only child of a couple. Much can be learned from interaction with siblings or family peers such as cousins, and is as important as our parental guidance (or lack of it). It is how we learn to express our needs, compete for attention, develop our individuality, and find our sense of belonging and importance.
Your dad and your sister taught you much about your own choices in being an adult....
because you had comparisons to work with. Your 'voice' is probably much more reasoned and determined when it is used because you know how defeating it can be when over-used or misused.
Even when I was young, if you DID talk to me, I was a chatter box, always finding something light and meaningless to talk about, trying to keep people distracted and at peace. But, I do know the wisdom of when to use my strong voice. I can remember the absolute astonishment of my father when I sat him down to really talk one night when I was about 11. I was straight forward and serious, begged him to seek counselling, and reduced him to a puddle of tears. Within a year he was seeking to sell the farm, and life started to change. It was one of the smartest things I've done in my life.
Karrie
Power of honesty and observation and discussion given with love can move mountains. We all have the ability to redirect or enhance another's choices if we care enough about them. Your wisdom
with your dad probably saved his life.
There will be so many more smart things you will do.....
Power of honesty and observation and discussion given with love can move mountains. We all have the ability to redirect or enhance another's choices if we care enough about them. Your wisdom
with your dad probably saved his life.
There will be so many more smart things you will do.....
Hi Karrie
I had time this morning to go rummaging around for an old submission I had stored....it has to do with middle children as the author writes she is one... thought you would see some things in there you would enjoy reading.
I have her permission to use any or all of her essays as I wish.
Here is her article:
The concept of birth order intrigues me, perhaps because I come from a big family. When I was growing up, there was a pecking order not only among my siblings, but among my 22 cousins. I always knew who was the boss, and it was not I.
The birth order theory, presented in 1923 by the Austrian psychologist Alfred Adler, asserts that the order in which you are born into your family has a measurable effect on who you turn out to be.
If you are the oldest, for example, you are likely to be very responsible, and to take charge of situations. If you are the baby, you may behave like a baby, no matter how many birthdays have passed. If you are an only child, you may be self-involved and prefer adult company. If you are adopted, you may be spoiled by your parents' gratitude for having you. If you are a twin, you may have identity problems. These are, of course, huge, and possibly offensive, generalizations.
If you are a middle child, as I am, you tend to be a peacemaker. You may grow up to be a fighter of injustice. You are a negotiator, a conciliator. That's because, all your life, your survival has depended on your ability to see both sides of an argument, and to reconcile disparate parties: If you do not, you may be squashed by warring factions. We middle children also agonize over whether to associate with the older or the younger sibling at any given moment. We feel both comfortable and uncomfortable doing either, but we keep it all inside. People think we are low-maintenance and well-adjusted, but we just know how to appear that way. Inside, we are complete basket cases.
It might seem that as the second of six, and as the oldest girl, I am not a true middle child. But the circumstances of my childhood were that there were, for many years, only three of us. Then, when I was 12, my parents had three more children in quick succession. My mother likes to say that she had three babies late in life as a direct result of the hundreds of candles that she had us light every Sunday after Mass, as, for eight years, we prayed for a new baby. All along, we thought our prayers were going unanswered, but suddenly, boy, were they answered.
By then, I was more the age of a baby sitter than a sister: you don't, as a teenager, engage in much sibling rivalry with a 2-year-old. So for the better part of my formative years, I was the kid between my older brother (the boss, the heir, the promised one) and my younger sister (the baby, the cherub, the bratty princess). I was Lisa Simpson, the largely unnoticed overachiever sandwiched between the firstborn, attention-grabbing son and the adorable, bottle-sucking baby girl.
When we went on the long car rides of our summer vacations as we traveled with my father on his business trips, I got the middle of the back seat; the one with the hump where your feet should go. In our Howard Johnson motel rooms, I got the middle of the double bed that was for the kids; otherwise, my brother and sister would fight. I was a human buffer.
It occurred to me that the ones who were misbehaving were being rewarded with the desirable positions in the back seat and the bed. This was definitely not fair, the two words that constitute the harshest possible indictment in the court of kids. Middle children believe passionately in fairness.
Not only was I born a middle child, I was born to parents who were themselves middle children. My mother was the middle child of seven; my father of three. Both of my parents knew what being a middle child was like, so you'd think they might have taken care to avoid creating one.
Instead, they came up with two: one for each set of three. My sister, the fifth-born, and I have a lot in common, although we are almost a generation apart. But I cannot chide my parents, as my husband and I, who thought we had been careful by having an even number of children (four), somehow also gave birth to two classic, yet different, middle children. Our oldest daughter was born to the high expectations of first-time parents, and our youngest definitely functions as the youngest, which leaves our second and third daughters in the middle.
Our second-born daughter behaves like her mother's example of the middle child: she is often the peacemaker, the cooler head that prevails in times of unrest, but who keeps it all inside. Our third born daughter exhibits the alternate qualities of the middle child: she is the rebel. She lives dangerously. Perhaps feeling she will never measure up to the oldest nor attract the unearned adoration that the baby does, she strikes out for parts unknown. She figures she's got nothing to lose, so she might as well live life on the sharpest, most precarious edge.
Some experts hold that birth order is no more relevant to one's personality than one's zodiac sign; that being mindful of birth order is about as illuminating as reading one's daily horoscope.
Adler himself speculated that birth order differences would be negligible as families evolved and became more democratic and cooperative. Socioeconomic and genetic factors, as well as parental attitudes and gender roles, most likely contribute more to determining our unique characters than birth order.
Still, I'm fascinated. And I know that, even though I am all grown up, the middle-child shoes sure fit my feet comfortably. I suspect they will continue to fit the feet of my two middle daughters as they travel the long road.
I had time this morning to go rummaging around for an old submission I had stored....it has to do with middle children as the author writes she is one... thought you would see some things in there you would enjoy reading.
I have her permission to use any or all of her essays as I wish.
Here is her article:
The concept of birth order intrigues me, perhaps because I come from a big family. When I was growing up, there was a pecking order not only among my siblings, but among my 22 cousins. I always knew who was the boss, and it was not I.
The birth order theory, presented in 1923 by the Austrian psychologist Alfred Adler, asserts that the order in which you are born into your family has a measurable effect on who you turn out to be.
If you are the oldest, for example, you are likely to be very responsible, and to take charge of situations. If you are the baby, you may behave like a baby, no matter how many birthdays have passed. If you are an only child, you may be self-involved and prefer adult company. If you are adopted, you may be spoiled by your parents' gratitude for having you. If you are a twin, you may have identity problems. These are, of course, huge, and possibly offensive, generalizations.
If you are a middle child, as I am, you tend to be a peacemaker. You may grow up to be a fighter of injustice. You are a negotiator, a conciliator. That's because, all your life, your survival has depended on your ability to see both sides of an argument, and to reconcile disparate parties: If you do not, you may be squashed by warring factions. We middle children also agonize over whether to associate with the older or the younger sibling at any given moment. We feel both comfortable and uncomfortable doing either, but we keep it all inside. People think we are low-maintenance and well-adjusted, but we just know how to appear that way. Inside, we are complete basket cases.
It might seem that as the second of six, and as the oldest girl, I am not a true middle child. But the circumstances of my childhood were that there were, for many years, only three of us. Then, when I was 12, my parents had three more children in quick succession. My mother likes to say that she had three babies late in life as a direct result of the hundreds of candles that she had us light every Sunday after Mass, as, for eight years, we prayed for a new baby. All along, we thought our prayers were going unanswered, but suddenly, boy, were they answered.
By then, I was more the age of a baby sitter than a sister: you don't, as a teenager, engage in much sibling rivalry with a 2-year-old. So for the better part of my formative years, I was the kid between my older brother (the boss, the heir, the promised one) and my younger sister (the baby, the cherub, the bratty princess). I was Lisa Simpson, the largely unnoticed overachiever sandwiched between the firstborn, attention-grabbing son and the adorable, bottle-sucking baby girl.
When we went on the long car rides of our summer vacations as we traveled with my father on his business trips, I got the middle of the back seat; the one with the hump where your feet should go. In our Howard Johnson motel rooms, I got the middle of the double bed that was for the kids; otherwise, my brother and sister would fight. I was a human buffer.
It occurred to me that the ones who were misbehaving were being rewarded with the desirable positions in the back seat and the bed. This was definitely not fair, the two words that constitute the harshest possible indictment in the court of kids. Middle children believe passionately in fairness.
Not only was I born a middle child, I was born to parents who were themselves middle children. My mother was the middle child of seven; my father of three. Both of my parents knew what being a middle child was like, so you'd think they might have taken care to avoid creating one.
Instead, they came up with two: one for each set of three. My sister, the fifth-born, and I have a lot in common, although we are almost a generation apart. But I cannot chide my parents, as my husband and I, who thought we had been careful by having an even number of children (four), somehow also gave birth to two classic, yet different, middle children. Our oldest daughter was born to the high expectations of first-time parents, and our youngest definitely functions as the youngest, which leaves our second and third daughters in the middle.
Our second-born daughter behaves like her mother's example of the middle child: she is often the peacemaker, the cooler head that prevails in times of unrest, but who keeps it all inside. Our third born daughter exhibits the alternate qualities of the middle child: she is the rebel. She lives dangerously. Perhaps feeling she will never measure up to the oldest nor attract the unearned adoration that the baby does, she strikes out for parts unknown. She figures she's got nothing to lose, so she might as well live life on the sharpest, most precarious edge.
Some experts hold that birth order is no more relevant to one's personality than one's zodiac sign; that being mindful of birth order is about as illuminating as reading one's daily horoscope.
Adler himself speculated that birth order differences would be negligible as families evolved and became more democratic and cooperative. Socioeconomic and genetic factors, as well as parental attitudes and gender roles, most likely contribute more to determining our unique characters than birth order.
Still, I'm fascinated. And I know that, even though I am all grown up, the middle-child shoes sure fit my feet comfortably. I suspect they will continue to fit the feet of my two middle daughters as they travel the long road.
Bump to index.... am having posting problems and wanted to see if this post would register on the forum....I posted a message this morning and it doesn't register.....
My husband is the middle kid of three brothers, and he has done lots of grumbling over the years.
Oldest was given more respect, and helped along toward his future, with lots of thought and
pride, and youngest was always spared from having to do too much, cause "he's too young and
can't do it", my husband, was a worker, always, youngest one was lazy, so youngest one had to
be helped to complete chores, (much resentment), oldest one was talked about too much,
big expectations for him, and when they were older, oldest and youngest fought, as they were
similar, so yes, as you said, the middle guy was the referee, but he also got his licks in by
goading one against the other at times.
An Italian family, with lots to say, loud discussions, which I always thought was argueing, but
they said, "we are only talking", so how did I ever get mixed up with such a family, as I was
from English/Irish, very conservative and quiet, and proper, BUT their family was functional and
mine wasn't, so I bought into that in a big way.
Oldest was given more respect, and helped along toward his future, with lots of thought and
pride, and youngest was always spared from having to do too much, cause "he's too young and
can't do it", my husband, was a worker, always, youngest one was lazy, so youngest one had to
be helped to complete chores, (much resentment), oldest one was talked about too much,
big expectations for him, and when they were older, oldest and youngest fought, as they were
similar, so yes, as you said, the middle guy was the referee, but he also got his licks in by
goading one against the other at times.
An Italian family, with lots to say, loud discussions, which I always thought was argueing, but
they said, "we are only talking", so how did I ever get mixed up with such a family, as I was
from English/Irish, very conservative and quiet, and proper, BUT their family was functional and
mine wasn't, so I bought into that in a big way.
Talloola you reminded me of a friend I had when I was younger - the family used to play poker on Friday nights - like it was some kind of family ritual. I used to go over not to play but to watch them all fight haha
Mom was a red headed Irish woman with a temper. Dad was a volatile Italian - the kids were a combination of both. It was wonderful and made my own family seem so boring I even asked my parents why none of us ever yelled and have a good time getting mad....which they thought was awful.... they almost stopped me going !
None of them ever said they were mad but the hands flying and finger pointing and jumping up from the table to walk around - amazed me - like some real play which they were all involved in. Amazing to have such a family. I felt something was missing in mine.
Mom was a red headed Irish woman with a temper. Dad was a volatile Italian - the kids were a combination of both. It was wonderful and made my own family seem so boring I even asked my parents why none of us ever yelled and have a good time getting mad....which they thought was awful.... they almost stopped me going !
None of them ever said they were mad but the hands flying and finger pointing and jumping up from the table to walk around - amazed me - like some real play which they were all involved in. Amazing to have such a family. I felt something was missing in mine.
Well Curiosity, now that all of those italian folks have passed on, (immigrants), and the ones who
are offspring carry on , they are not the same. As much as I needed that warmth and functionality of
a family, I could only be in the middle of the 'shouting muddle' for short periods of time, as I am
much more comfortable in quiet surroundings, but, when away from them for awhile, I do desire
a visit, and we will not see those people ever again, in that environment, they are/were the true
Italians, mixing in their 'own' way, and as they die, it is 'gone', we really notice that now, and
often talk of the 'old times', as now that we are older, we realize how special and valuable
that relationship was.
are offspring carry on , they are not the same. As much as I needed that warmth and functionality of
a family, I could only be in the middle of the 'shouting muddle' for short periods of time, as I am
much more comfortable in quiet surroundings, but, when away from them for awhile, I do desire
a visit, and we will not see those people ever again, in that environment, they are/were the true
Italians, mixing in their 'own' way, and as they die, it is 'gone', we really notice that now, and
often talk of the 'old times', as now that we are older, we realize how special and valuable
that relationship was.