I consider myself to be a nice person. I'm friendly, caring, sometimes funny. I'm also fairly direct... not in a mean way, but if I'm talking about something or telling a story and a particular point of interest helps the story succeed, I'll use it. I can have a
tinge of snark...used in the nicest of ways possible (unless I am really angry about something). But as my husband sometimes points out, my direct personality-style has gotten me into trouble. This isn't a story about that. I'm just making an observation.
Lately, I've been feeling maybe a little misunderstood... as if I'm a
mean person (in the eyes of others). I was under the impression for quite some time that German's are, in fact, direct. Culturally speaking. And there are many Germans I know who uphold this notion quite precisely... but, not my German girl. With some things, like my unedited photos she can pop a zinger, and yet she's afraid to tell a teacher at school that she doesn't want to give up her Saturday's every weekend to come work on the greenhouse.
THAT WOULDN'T EVEN HURT THE TEACHER'S FEELINGS! But she thinks it's
mean to say that to the teacher. O.K.
I mention this little example to point out, that if she makes the comment, with a giggle and a smile, saying, "That's so mean," in response to something I've said... well, I shouldn't take that to mean that I'm a total misanthrope. (I had to look that word up. It means person who hates others. I'm actually more of a humanitarian). Maybe we've reached the low point in the graph where the host parent feels a little bit scrutinized and judged. It could quite possibly be a bit of cultural tension under the surface that we aren't recognizing but is literally crashing into each other like icebergs. I sure do wish I had some support. We have absolutely NO support out here on the end of the earth. All the other students and host families live at least 1.5 hours away from us.
Please know that its not Jolene's comments that are getting me down. That was just another one of my DIRECT examples. I think I'm just feeling a wee bit insecure lately. It's stupid how I go from subtle comment to another subtle happening and begin stacking up a load of crap against myself... from a variety of sources. And then, Blah. I'm just a bad person. Suddenly, I feel alone and sad. I know it's stupid. I know the signs and can see all of that coming along the pike... but it doesn't prevent the age old struggle from passing my way every now and again. It's meant to keep me sharp, I suppose.
Enough of that!
Story Time
Anika is getting her braces off on Saturday. OH HOW EXCITED SHE IS!!! Actually, I signed a paper to allow her to get them off before the orthodontist was recommending it. He wants them perfect. She wants them off!! I'm tired of bringing her to the office month after month with no further improvement. So I signed the freakin release form [gasp] because I refuse to be scolded any longer for my 16-year-old daughter's inconsistent ortho practices. This morning she requested a dentist appointment, for a cleaning once the braces are gone. This brought up the story of my first visit to this new dentist my family now will see.
It's such a different office and group of staff than our previous one. Scary almost. I had to take Caleigh and Elizabeth a few months back. They are the only ones to experience our new dentist so far (we have new dental insurance which is why we had to switch). So this doctor is probably in his 30s, but he came out of the room wearing... um... a face mask. Not your regular one that covers your mouth and ties around the back, but the one that's a cone!

It wasn't like this one pictured above. I couldn't actually find an accurate picture.
It was more like this:

When I saw him I had to choke down my sudden urge to LOL. To top things off, he had thick glasses and a wandering eye. He called me in a few times to talk and he's a really nice guy, but he was talking about getting those medical forms filled out for the school (now NYS schools want dental and eye exam records along with the children's physicals--WTH?). He was telling me how he was in school for years, sitting in the back of the room before his mom discovered that he couldn't see well and needed glasses. He's telling me this story all while I couldn't quite figure out which eye he was using to look at me. I was like, "Come on!!! Your mom had
NO idea you may have needed to see an eye doctor?"
I know I know. That was mean! Jolene already told me.