The IT

There is an unsettling truth being exposed in the world. It's not new. It's not unique to this time. It may just now be coming into the collective consciousness, but it has been there under the surface for millennia. The world is shocked, and disgusted. There is a divide happening. It will be stark. You will see names of people you thought were good people. They will be caught up in the landslide. I have known about the darker side of society for years. People will claim that it happens "elsewhere". That it doesn't happen here. That it is confined to third-world countries. Welp! I confess a certain amount of calm while the rest of you are suddenly jerked from your comfortable first-world problems. Welcome to my world. I wasn't a child when I was abused. I was old enough to know better, but too young to know how to get out. Welcome to the knowledge I've held for over ten years. Welcome to the darkness that fuels my humor, and forces me to laugh at what you hold as depraved. Welcome to the underbelly. You will get dirty. Your hands will be covered in the muck of this side of the world. It will seep into your soul, and it will attempt to take over. You have now left neutral ground. You know. You know that there are children being sold in your city. You know that there are parents selling their day old infant to another human being for an adults pleasure. You know that there is someone stalking your facebook page looking for YOUR kids. You know that they are photoshopping images of your perfect little angel so they can sell them to someone who is "age-fluid". You know that these people are protected by big money, and politics. You know that your rights as parents have been undermined, and ripped from you so that they can have more access to your children to groom them for this very moment. YOUR children. Not some nameless parent on the other side of the world. YOUR child. You are no longer on neutral ground. You will chose a side. You will either fight it. Or you will fuel it with complacent turning away. Where do you stand? there is no fence anymore. There is a gaping rift. You are on one side or the other. Do you turn a "blind eye" and allow them to continue to groom your children? Or will you push for the protection of innocence? your hands are dirty. You are part of this. You don't want to be, but you are. You no longer have a choice to remain neutral. Where do you stand? this is not an issue with gray areas. You are either here to protect children, or you are here to exploit them. If anyone was wondering where my abrasive nature comes from; This is where. Once you have seen and left neutral ground there is no going back. I left that, and have been choosing to fight to protect my children. I have fought for my rights as a parent. I have fought for school choice so that parents can choose a school that will not groom them for pedophilia. I have fought for my right to decide that something is inappropriate for the age at which it is being taught. I have fought to keep children clothing children's, and not a miniature version of adult clothing. I have fought to keep children listening to children's songs, and not forcing my adult music onto them. I have fought to keep their minds and imaginations alive with possibilities. I have joked about dark topics to help others see what darkness is out there. I have been crass in my wording to make certain there is no misunderstanding where I stand. I have done many things that others find hard to tolerate. I have flooded social media feeds with my posts about human trafficking. I have annoyed many by my inability to tolerate grooming of children, but my ability to make jokes about the darkness of the evil permeating society. I sit, now, enjoying a moment. A smile that spreads across my face as others have finally taken up the fight, and are exposing the extent of what is IT. Welcome to my world. Welcome to my fight. Take a seat. We are the radicals who know the darkness is there. Who laugh in it's face. Who chase it away with the light of knowledge. Who stand between the children, and those who would hurt them. We are the ones who look at the monster under the bed, and do not flinch. We are the ones willing to learn the hard truth of this evil, and then stand between those who would push it forward and those who would be eaten up in it. We will not let down our guard. We know we can't. I feel a calmness settling in my soul. Welcome.

The Holding Pattern

I had a very candid and open discussion with a client of mine about the feelings involved in social distancing, and shelter-in-place/quarantine. She kept talking about how she felt like she was going crazy. Not losing her mind seeing people, and talking to invisible objects crazy. Just the "I think I might implode. Why am I so irritated? CAN YOU PLEASE STOP DOING THAT!" kind of crazy. Her normal, low-key, easy going self is gone. She feels distressed. She also happens to be a true extrovert. Even people who claim to be extroverts will tell you she's more extrovert than they are. This isolation is literally killing her. Thank heavens she can still come get on my table eh? Well, here's the thing. As I listened I recognized her feelings, and emotions. I did that super rude thing and interrupted. I said this; It feels like you're in this holding pattern of numbness. You know who you were, you know who you're going to be, but right now you're just stuck in this place of not being anything. The look on her face told me I would be forgiven my interruption because I had put words to what it was she was having trouble speaking. It's true. We are all in a state of perpetual depression. It's this holding pattern of functional depression that we know how to fix, but can't. We have no access to the things that will help us fix it. We can't go out and connect with friends. We can't get dressed up and go someplace special. We can't go get a facial, or our hair done, or go to the bar, or gun range, or even work. We are functionally taking care of our basic needs. We are doing things to help us maintain a certain level of health. But we all feel it. The darkness creeping in. We chase it back with feel good news stories, and videos of people learning to live around this new normal. But the darkness is there. Ever present. Waiting for a moment to pull us in. Wrap us in its long, dark, impenetrable mass and swallow us whole. We just keep circling in this holding pattern of twilight. Not truly dark, but not light either. Welcome to the world of functional depression. It's been my life for 6 years. My oldest child is 6 yrs old. It's not her fault, but it was her birth that started the hormonal chaos that has created the depression I've been living. This strange "I just want to be normal" feeling you all are having? This is my life. That "I just need to be able to get some work done!" or " I just cleaned that up!" or "how many times do you eat?" or " you have ANOTHER questions?!" that all you suddenly work from home parents are feeling? I live that. I live it with four delicate, impressionable little humans I made. It is my life. I work from home all the time. I never leave. I have been social distanced for 6 years due to this life of mine. I have no answers on how to keep the darkness at bay. I admit I'm not very good at it. I don't have healthy coping mechanisms for keeping your head above water. I resort to sarcasm, and dark humor, and food. Don't do what I do. They say you should find a hobby. I'm not really certain how to have a hobby if you have more than one child. I Clearly don't know how to do it, I am here with you. Just trying to maintain the holding pattern until I can find a solution. Just know, it's depression you're feeling. Face it with that knowledge. Hold your head high to keep it above the water.Maintain your holding pattern. You can do this. I've been doing it for six years. It's possible to live in this state. Just take one step at a time. Just do the next right step in the sequence of living.

The "Girl Who Was Kidnapped"

I was watching a video on Facebook (I know, I know) in which Elizabeth Smart said that during her abduction she couldn't believe that someone could be that evil. That when presented with the fact that she would be consummating a marriage she didn't consent to, and had not been aware was even going to happen she couldn't believe He really meant it. THIS is a problem. If you are so focused on getting your children to feel safe, and happy that you have neglected to teach them that there is REAL evil in the world; shame on you. I have walked away from the darkest underbelly of the universe. I have seen the evil she saw. I have absolutely no qualms in telling my children, as young as they are, that there are tricky people out there who want to hurt them. Who want to do unspeakable things to them. I am trying to keep them safe, and I am trying to help them learn to keep themselves safe. . . But those people exist. Every time we talk about the good in the world it has been prefaced with the evil. I refuse to let my children grow up believing that evil exists someplace outside of our world. That it "won't happen here". That that type of thing happens to other people, and not to us. I wish that I could find the video and quote her exactly on this point. It's a crucial moment in her story. It's so important. People focus on all these other details. The things that were used in the case, the things that people did to find her, the reasons she was targeted. While these are indeed instrumental parts of the story they are not what I would consider a crucial detail. I consider it a pivotal, and crucial part of her story that she could not believe that anyone could be that evil. Meaning, in her 12yr old mind, the most evil people were portrayed in history books and far off places. I'm not against protecting children from horrible situations. I would not recommend exposing them to things that are not age appropriate, but you can prepare them for the idea that evil is not a world away, or something that exists in the past. They can understand that tricky people want to hurt them without having to know the gory, unsettling details. I just struggle to understand how a child of 12 can go through life not knowing that people are THAT evil. That they exist today, now, in this moment. They exist in our neighborhoods. They exist in our homes sometimes. They walk past our schools, shopping centers, and homes. They seem like normal people, and they seem like the crazy person who makes you think twice while walking to your car. You can NOT ignore the fact that to truly prepare your child to be the good in the world they MUST know that the evil is real. It is knocking on their door. The only defense is to recognize it so you can stand against it. Children prepared for the world around them don't just have a degree, or creative problem solving skills. They can see the evil of the world, and have the courage to stand against it. To do good deeds, and act when evil would swallow them whole.

Stop Saying That. Just Stop.

You know what one of the most condescending, irritatingly insulting things I've had someone say to me is? "You're going to miss this stage. Just wait."... NO! I will not miss it one blasted bit! I love my children dearly, but YOU don't live in my house everyday. You want to know how many times my 4yr old told me she hated me today? I don't know either. I lost count after 25. EVERY DAY! I go through this EVERY day. I have to fight with my children about putting clothes on. I fight with them about eating something besides candy. I fight with them about the fact that I didn't buy the fancy over priced fruity whatever-it-is because I think we should save some money for their clothes! I'm a monster who ruins everyday because I refuse to cave to the rest of the world and raise jerks. I have been told countless times that I ruined all the fun. I'm mean, not fun, and they hate me. Believe me, they let me know every chance they get. Do you know what that does to your self-esteem? I know, I know... "You shouldn't let a 4yr old dictate your self worth."... I don't care WHO you are. If ANYone tells you that they hate you multiple times a day EVERY day. You're going to feel the ding to your self esteem. only a heartless bastard would not feel a ding to their self worth after listening to that for 2-3 years. So don't tell me I will miss this. Don't tell me I'm going to wake-up, they'll be grown and I'll look back and be all "aww I miss when they were little.". I will absolutely NOT miss this. I won't miss dealing with a fight on every issue. I won't miss the crying, or the complaining, or the lack of ANYthing I do being good enough. That's what it's like when you're a parent to small humans who can't logic. NOTHING you do is good enough. Ever. They look at you like "and? why should I be grateful for this?". Don't tell me I will miss this. YOU miss this. I do not. Stop trying to be supportive by telling me how much YOU miss this. Some of us didn't have children who constantly told us they loved us. Some of us didn't have children who wanted to learn to dress themselves, or be obedient for more than 30 seconds. Some of us have children who are so difficult their teachers feel sorry for us; because they know we're trying, but the child is just that difficult. Some of us didn't raise our children when you could give them a swat on the bum for misbehaving, or wash their mouth out with soap for talking back. Some of us are trying to raise functional children who won't grow up to be entitled jerks; while simultaneously attempting to not go to jail for child abuse because EVERYone knows that kids should never be physically punished. Stop telling a mom in the middle of a crisis that she'll miss the crisis situation. No one misses this. What you think we'll miss is that same stupid naive expectation we imagined before we delivered our first child. That's not reality. So stop telling me I'm going to miss that fantasy you've created in your memories. I'm far to practical for that. I don't have time for that. I have to go tell two little girls to go to bed. Again. Then I have to listen to them yell at me and tell me how much they hate me. Again. Because this is the routine. Until everyone is asleep. Then I'll get about 30-45 minutes of sleep before the baby wakes up and needs me. Again. So take your "you're going to miss this." and burry it with all the other dead hopes and dreams you left behind.

A Controversy Waiting for the Storm of Comments.

SO! while listening to frozen for the millionth time I was struck by the message about mental illness that appears moderately hidden. In the scene where Anna finally finds Elsa in the ice castle and they do the singing back and forth... think about whats happening; Elsa is having an anxiety attack/mental break down/depressive episode/whatever your mental illness is issue. She's been conditioned to be ashamed of her mental illness. So she's doing a lot of self-talk, and not at all listening to Anna. although she is very much aware of Anna's presence she is completely ignoring what Anna is saying/communicating. No really. Watch it. It's like Anna isn't even singing. Then there's Anna. confronting a mental illness she didn't know her sister had until recently. She has never faced a mental illness before. She has literally NO idea what she's doing, but she's attempting to tell Elsa that she is loved, and wanted, and most importantly not alone. She is literally walking towards Elsa with out stretched arms in an attempt to help. She WANTS to help. Her efforts are unrecognized, but she persists. the entire time using calming, loving language both physically and verbally. She gets struck by ice, the movie moves on. The thing that struck me was how often I have listened/watched this scene and thought "dude, if Elsa would just shut up she'd figure it out!".... but that's just it. In the throws of your mental illness you CAN'T just shut-up the self-talk and listen. Your brain is hardwired to NOT listen. There could be a bullhorn pressed against your ear at full volume, and you wouldn't be able to hear a thing being said. And that is in no way your fault. Let me repeat that; Not being able to hear those who love you tell you that very thing is NOT your fault. You're too tired to hear us, and we know that. We just want you to know that we're tired too. We're not giving up, we're just sitting with you... tired. It's exhausting for BOTH parties. It's exhausting to try and function with a mental illness. It's exhausting to NOT function with a mental illness. To be left physically unable to carry on the basic life sustaining functions. It is also exhausting to constantly be reaching out with love to someone who can't hear you. Some of us trying to help those who have mental illnesses are just as tired as you are. and we are not unaware. We're just not being listened to. No one is wrong, or at fault. It is the unfortunate nature of the beast that is mental illness. We recognize that fact and we still reach out. We're trying to help you. We want you to "come down the mountain TOGETHER..". We want you to take part in the world and society with us. It's why it's so important for more than one person to reach out if possible. Because eventually someone CAN drown out the self-talk. Olaf eventually was able to reach Elsa. It didn't change Anna's love for her sister, or how much she supported her, but it did make a difference in that it helped Elsa to stop and listen to Anna. We all just have to find that person who can drown out our self-talk so we can hear all the people trying to love us. I've seen a lot of those "what people with anxiety want you to know", or "what people with depression want you to know" posts on social media. Well let me give you another one. What people who DON'T have a mental illness want you to know: -We're aware you're suffering. You're not "yourself", and we know it. -When we say "it's ok", we don't mean that you're ok and you should stop having your illness. We're saying "it's ok to not be ok. I'm here for you no matter what."(yes, we suck with our words in the moment.) -We're kinda tired of the world assuming we're unaware that mental illness is a big deal, and a real issue. We know it is. We just don't have it, and have never had it, and will probably never experience it so we can't read your mind. Or body language. Or social disassociation. It's not within our power to logic that. If you don't tell us you have anxiety we have very little clue that standing at your front door with a surprise would cause you to have an anxiety attack. We thought it would be a fun surprise. -We love you. We want to love you. We want you to listen to us love you, instead of your negative self-talk. -we're not perfect either. We're going to make mistakes in dealing with you, and mental illness. (see above comment about not having it.). We're willing to keep trying, but you have to let us. You have to "shut-up and listen Elsa!", or none of our efforts will mean a thing. -We're tired too. And that's ok. Now don't think I'm all up on my high horse because I'm perfect. Far from it. I've got my own mental illness I'm dealing with, AND postpartum depression. These are thoughts that I have had while not in the throws of my illness. When I'm not being controlled by it, I have seen THIS. That those around me are trying SO hard to help me. I've just learned to tune them out, and tune the set-talk in. And of course none of these "what people with (fill in the blank) want you to know" posts cover the unique needs and reactions, etc of everyone. For all I know there are people out there who could care less about mental illness. Typically though, if you're living with mental illness ( I refuse to say suffering. It feeds the negative self-talk. I won't feed that monster.) those around you are trying to reach out and love you. They just need a little more direct coaching on how to help YOU. They need the directions on what helps you. Because lets be honest; mental illness is not a "one size fits all" thing. We all live with it differently, have different triggers, respond to different things. Be kind to those trying to reach you. Look for them. They're there. And they are tired too. Sit down, lean on each other, and rest together for a while. Then you'll both have the energy to stand and fight the beast together.

I AM the Storm

I have seen a lot of those MEMEs about the Devil whispering that you can't withstand the storm, and the person answers "I am the storm". I'm getting really tired of all that. What if I don't want to be "the storm'? What if I don't think the world NEEDS anymore "storms"? What if I'm the Calm inside the Storm? The world around us is exploding with aggression, and fight responses. When confronted with challenges people fight. When confronted with heartache people fight. Maybe I want to be calm. I want to take a deep breath, drop my shoulders, bow my head, and let it go. I want to resonate with such calmness that I break-up the fighting. I want to be so deeply embedded in the calm that it draws people into it. I want to watch the world settle from the Storm and join in the Calmness. I believe that it is perfectly acceptable to not be the Storm; whipping around wildly, and slashing at everything insight. It is acceptable to not fight back. It is acceptable to resign yourself to a season of less than "what you deserve" in life. It is ok to not be ok. In our whirlwind of a busy world, and all the blogs, advice books, motivational speakers, and the like telling us it's ok to not be busy; we seem to not actually understand how that works. We still feel this draw to the Storm. Well, I've resigned from the Storm. I may not practice "peaceful parenting" ( yes, I yell at my kids when I've repeated myself 12 times), but I see no need to be busy. We have more days of lazy play at home than we have of playdates, and classes, and errands, and extra. We spend more time at home playing together. We know every nook of our house. Yet I find that most people are borderline appalled when they learn that I don't do all the stuff the world expects me to. Part of me worries and stresses out about it. Sometimes I wonder if my children will be upset that we didn't take professional photo's for their first birthday. I ponder their disappointment when they get married and their spouse has a million professional baby photo's from when they were first born, and all I've got for them are pictures I took with my iPhone in the hospital of them screaming at the fact that the nurse just took them from my womb and laid them on my chest. How dare She! I don't have milestone photo shoots with fancy chalkboards, or celebratory cakes, or even stickers I printed off Pinterest. I reflect on the lack of big fancy over-the-top parties for EVERY birthday. You get a bid deal on your 1st, maybe your 8th, but I am NOT that Mom. I've contemplated how much they'll feel like I stole something from them because I didn't do very many of the "trendy" things moms do. So this is Me, signing off. I REFUSE to be the Storm. I will not partake in the crazy. I will deny myself, and by association my Family, the chaos of the Storm of trendy new things that make us "busy". This is Me, take a step back. This is Me, breathing deeply. This is me, bowing my head and closing my eyes. This is Me, letting it all go. This is Me, being the Calm in the midst of the Storm. This is Me, inviting others to join me. This is Me, giving space for those who need to escape the Storm. This is Me, stepping into my comfort zone and learning to invite others inside. This is Me, taking back control over the peace I feel. This is Me, looking the Devil straight in the face and instead of telling him I can match him at his own game, saying; That's ok. I am the Calm that brings others out of the Storm. I am the friendly face, the kind gesture, the smile, the breath of fresh air, the support. I don't need to withstand the Storm, for I do not reside in it.

Drive-ins, Swimming, and All Things Summer

I'm not an easy person to like. I say that a lot. Most people see that as fishing for a compliment. I say it with the self realized evidence of the past several years. The one thing my Husband has admitted about first meeting me? He didn't really like me. He thought I was a "know-it-all". Most of the friends I have that stuck through the awkward stage? They'll say it took some time to "warm up" to the idea of being my friend. Most people will confess to me that they weren't certain about whether or not they could deal with me when we first met. . . Let that sink in for just a moment. Imagine being told for the better part of your late 20's early 30's that you are not the ideal, personable human being people befriend. Imagine being told regularly that you're "difficult" to enjoy. Now think about how that sits on the psyche. There's a good reason I don't reach out to people. There's a reason I don't go out of my way to go places, or throw parties, or even attend parties. Several reasons actually. The big ones come from what happened to me in my early 20's. The "little" ones come from the fact that I can't even get my own family to enjoy me, let alone strangers; so I just stay home. My children are difficult to like as well. Mostly because we spend so little time with people outside our own home. It's difficult to have play dates when no one wants to sit and talk to you as the adult. I stopped pretending I understand people in the middle of what was going on with me before. I stopped paying attention to whether people mattered when the Major was selling me as a commodity. It makes me difficult to like. I don't understand the purpose of small talk. I don't really care about gossip. I'm not all that interested in fashion, and the latest craze ( which should be evident by my inability to dress myself.), I don't know how to not be awkward. Awkward is kind of my default setting. I am out of place in the world. I don't fit in. I do better when I keep my mouth shut, but I end up dying a little inside because no one really knows who I am. I get an uncouth exuberance when a subject I know about is brought up. I feel personally insulted when people won't let me help them; because it happens so rarely that I can be useful. I feel a great deal of pain at the fact that my children are the wierdos because I can't make enough friends with children their age for them to have playmates. My heart breaks when they desperately want to play with someone, and I have made that impossible. There is a silent amount of guilt killing me because I am difficult to like. Yet if I pretend, and become likable, I also die a little inside. So, Parenting catch 22. Do you die inside because your children are lonely and unlike, or do you die inside because you're faking it? Maybe someday I will know the answer, and my children will forgive me for failing them in this area. Maybe.

Salted Caramels, and Three Hours of Sleep

You know what one of the most patronizing things I've ever heard is? At this phase of my life it is the sentiment "you'll get through this. It's only temporary.". This sentiment, and ones along these lines, make me want to look that person straight in the face and say No $#&% Sherlock? because the thousands of millions of people throughout history aren't proof that it is possible to survive being the parent of small children. So this is me. Explaining to all of you out there trying to keep people like me motivated. Those are not things we need to hear right now. We're smart enough to know that we will survive this. Maybe we don't want to survive. Maybe we want to sleep. Maybe we want to not have a brain fog that makes us practically useless. Maybe, just maybe, we want to splurge on something and not have to sacrifice it to small children, or accept that a splurge denies them something they'll probably need. I mean I would like to have a little extra money to go to Jamba Juice often enough to actually know what flavor is my favorite. Heck! I'd like to know whats on the bloody menu! Maybe we'd like to be in a position where we can get our nails done, or have a hobby. You know like those things people do to help them feel fulfilled? yeah, those things. only they usually require money and time we don't have. Because Kids. Little kids. So take your "you'll miss this", and your "it'll go so fast" and shove it where the sun don't shine! A better way to encourage and motivate people like me would be a "Yup! this part is lame." Even a "come get a pedicure with me! my treat.". Or just talk to us about something besides Mickey Mouse, Doc McStuffins, Princesses, you know the stuff we spend all day talking about. Discuss politics with us. Discuss anything that isn't my children! Gift cards are awesome too! I can't even begin to explain the amount of time that goes by between the times I get to listen to my music, and when I'm listening to London Bridge. I'm not even sure I can remember what my favorite song is anymore. I used to be able to name any 80's hair band just by listening to a few bars of their music. Now I'm like "wait, this is who?! ". The lack of time to ones self is nauseating. I know there are Moms out there writing blogs about how wonderful this all is, and how we're doing great, and how it's all so beautiful. Good for them. Good for all the people who read those posts and think " oh I needed this!".. You know what I need?! A stiff drink, and a ridiculously large plate of bacon. The stiff drink isn't going to happen in this life time, but the bacon is still a possibility. I am not opposed to motivation. Just remember that if you patronize me I will eventually respond with sarcasm. It will be brutal. It won't feel good. At this point my wit and brutal sarcasm are the only hobbies I can afford/have time for. So if you feel like tempting fate and trying out your motivation don't be hurt if my response isn't welcoming and full of gratitude. It's not that you don't mean well; it's just that some of us are NOT enjoying this phase of life, and we never will. You trying to make us enjoy it, or see the joy in it isn't going to change a thing. We recognize that someone out there is enjoying every moment of this. We are NOT that person. It's a lot like preference for sweet, or savory. You can't change a persons preference. No matter how many motivational quotes, and blog posts, and articles you give them in favor of your preference. So just stop. Just stop trying to change us. Accept us, and our "taste" about this phase of life. And for the love of all that is holy; Stop telling us we'll love this, or miss this.

Gooey S'mores & Chili Breath

I'm lost. Somewhere between the size 4 jeans, and the stretchy pants are the only thing that fit; I lost myself. Somewhere between newly married, and the confused sleep deprivation of a mother of multiples I lost myself. Somewhere between "I can totally run that 5k!", and "you want me to do something besides nap?!" I lost myself. Somewhere between the punk/ska, and the child friendly language of a kid's sing-a-long CD I lost myself. Somewhere between the red lipstick, and barely having the energy for a shower I lost myself. Now this isn't a pity party, but it is a realization that My identity is no longer the same. Though I long to be the person who had the energy to dance in the kitchen while I was cleaning, I also realize a lot of that is choice. I CHOSE not to dance in the kitchen with the mop while listening to music with language and messages too mature for my children. I CHOSE to spend time on the floor with them reading books while the housework piles up. I'm beginning to recognize that may not always be the best choice. For now it's a delicate balancing act of my OCD for a clean home battling my desire to give my children quality time. People will tell me that cleaning my home IS showing my children love. Well, have you met my children? They cling to me the way we all wish syran-wrap would stick to the dishes we attempt to cover. Their love language is both quality time, and quality touch. I do what I can with the time I've got, but when I'm up several times a night with teething children, and not drinking caffeine during the day? come on! when they take a nap; I take a nap. I feel the desire to bust out some of the old me. The part of me that could care less. The person who wore bright red lipstick because it was Tuesday. I don't think she's dead just yet. And as my youngest gets a little older I find time to do things like put on jeans instead of stretchy pants. Somedays I even remember the deodorant. I love my children, and I spent years believing that life had passed by the point in which I would get to hold them in my arms. I also love the person I was before. The passion that was my life, the fearless resolve with which I stated my opinions and beliefs. I spend a lot more time pleasing others now. Giving snuggles, giving loves, giving spoonfuls of food, giving the blue cup because the red cup is no longer desired. I even bite my tongue to keep civil relations with people I could honestly care less if they liked me, but I need to play nice with because my Husband needs that relationship. I just think that at some point I'm going to find myself, and everyone is going to have their minds blown when I start acting like myself. I may even become much more organized. Who knows! I can barely put together complete thoughts anymore, but don't you worry! I will get back into a pair of stilettos and red lipstick, and probably some clothes too. I suppose that it's part of being a parent to lose a piece of yourself. I wonder whether I'm doing it wrong. Whether my decision to stop being so much full color version of myself, and more of a muted pastel is worth it. Whether the desire for a more child friendly/age appropriate home has been a wise choice. If I've lost enough of myself that my children will think that the woman who wore whatever she darn well felt like, and had the courage to kick someone's arse with a simple tongue lashing ever really was me. I wonder if I've given up a part of who I was that made my husband fall in love with me. I question whether I let myself go so far that I got lost along the way? Perhaps it's time to reclaim some of that person. Perhaps, much as I discovered when trying to be a bank manager, I just don't fit into these shoes. Perhaps I really just need to stand in the shower for 20 minutes, and sing my heart out, and let the kids play in the toilet water while I actually put lotion on myself. Maybe I need to spend a little more time shaving my legs, and a little less time crawling around on the floor. While I justify letting myself get lost because I'm attempting to make sure I don't raise children who are self entitled jerks. . . I may be missing the point, and my mind. Maybe it's all just a crap shoot, and it won't make a difference in the end that I bothered.

Dark Chocolate Covered Mangoes

My oldest daughter will be 2 in April. There has been a very well meaning woman who has tried to help me "ween" her from her pacifier. My frustration has come in the form of not wanting to offend this woman, but at the same time not wanting her help. Mostly because I actually don't want my daughter to stop using it. We lost our dog about 4 days before I gave birth to our youngest. We had an emergency delivery so My mother had not had a chance to come down and insert herself into the routine before the birth. My 17 month old daughter was thrust into the arms of her Uncle and taken to their house for a "slumber party" with their girls while she waited for her Grandmother to get into town. After which everyone spent the following week at Aunt Amy's and Uncle Scot's while waiting for Mom and Baby to be cleared to go home. With Dad in the hospital trying to help get the discharge to happen sooner than later. Then once home she was left alone with her Grandmother, whom she loves dearly, while Mom and baby recovered from everything for another 2 weeks. After Grandma went home the loss of the dog was suddenly very real. There was no longer a loving playmate, and friend to entertain her while Mom cleaned up the kitchen, or did the laundry. There was no longer a fuzzy warm body to snuggle up next to when a cuddle was needed, but Mom had to finish making dinner. There was no longer someone to chase in the backyard with, or simply lay in the grass and relax. Adding to this is a new person in the home who has medical issues that require a lot more attention from Mom than just feeding, and changing diapers. Suddenly this little toddler was alone. Not that no one was in the house, but in the sense that no one had undivided attention to give her. She NEEDS something to help her sort through the feelings, and calm her to a point where she can assess how she feels and how to present those feelings to her parents. My daughter is working through some complicated emotions, and some complex concepts. Death, unconditional love of parents, friendship, siblings,anger, loss, jealousy. Though people who are not dog people will never understand the significance of the loss of our Makaio; I don't ask that they do. I DO ask that you accept that for my family it was like losing a person IN the family. We function as a pack, and Makaio was a member of the pack. A significant member of the pack. I have decided that instead of having major melt-downs, security blankets, separation anxiety, or other things that my daughter will have a pacifier. It will function as its name implies. To pacify the lonely abandonment that is loss, and the addition of a sibling. I'm not asking you to understand. I'm asking you to back off, let me help my daughter deal with the loss of a pack member in our way, and trust that when I'm certain she's worked through it we'll get rid of the pacifier. Please, don't steal the one healthy coping mechanism my daughter has. What you're telling her is that her healthy ways of coping are not acceptable, and that she needs to scream and cry to get what she wants. That unhealthy ways of coping are better than healthy ones. Thank you for attempting to alleviate the pressures of being a mother of multiple children, but ; with all do respect, Back the %$#@ off. I know my pack, and I know what they need. I'm the Alpha Female in my pack, which means that I determine what is acceptable in our home. I have determined that getting the bottle to go away at bed time, and the crying out for her dog in her sleep are to be dealt with first. I will deal with THAT issue once we've kicked the unhealthy coping mechanisms, and dealt with our loss.

Petunia's, and Peanut Butter

Sometimes people don’t take me seriously. It’s a touch frustrating that I spent a lot of time wasting time in college and didn’t figure it out in time. I should’ve gone to medical school. I majored in Dance because I loved the way the human body moved through space. I loved watching it curve, and bend, and snap into lines and shapes that are mind blowing. It was never just dance for me. I wasn’t as good as some, but I loved every minute of it, and I desperately attempted to conquer fears to make my body do what I saw all the really good dancers doing. I should’ve done a pre-med program instead. Typically I wouldn’t be typing this, I’d be reading a medical journal online. Yes, I read them for fun. Lately I’ve been focused on gene therapy, and genetic mutations. I'd bother you with the details, but there's a reason I'm up reading them and you've chosen not to. That's ok. What frustrates me is when I have people around me who disregard what I do, and what I know. I understand that they're not doing it on purpose. For some it's because they can't get past the eccentric artsy punk who took ballet and had flames painted into her hair. For others it's that they don't know that Massage Therapy covers a very wide range of modalities (styles) and can treat a rather large variety of issues. There are also people who have no idea that I read pathology books for fun, run through symptoms with my favorite med student, and love solving puzzles. The rest of them; I couldn't honestly say why they don't talk me about what's going on. They probably want to keep their medical issues private, and are embarrassed about them. I get that. Which is why I rarely quote clients by name, and if I do it has more to do with a funny story about something completely unrelated to medical anything (except my pregnancy. there were a lot of good quotes that came out of that.). I get a little confused when people hold back on medical issues. I get that we don't want to air our dirty laundry. I appreciate that I don't see a million complaints about health in my Facebook news feed. I would LOVE if when it DOES come up in conversation you give me more than "Oh I had this medical thing I had to take care of."…. which was. . . don't leave me hanging! If you'd rather talk to me privately let me know. Just don't hand me a tantalizing sneak peek like that and not finish the story! There is very little I feel more frustrated about than a medical teaser. Probably as close to a man's frustration with a female tease as I will ever experience. I spend the next YEARS of my life trying to sort through behaviors, chronic holding patters, personality fluctuations, buzzwords you've dropped, and anything else I can to figure out what you could possibly be dealing with. Just tell me! The people brave enough to divulge the symptoms, or condition to me know that I almost instantly start running through every piece of medical reference material I can get my hands on legally. I will lose sleep over the whole thing while I try to sort through the situation. They can also attest to the fact that I didn't tell anyone. Frankly I was too busy being nose deep in a book, or dealing with my children to have anyone to tell. I haven't been out of the house for anything social in 6 months. Just groceries, and essentials, and church, and the occasional family event (which usually consists of me doing exactly what I do at home. tending my children). I probably seem rather intense to people when they meet me in public. Like the over eager middle aged single woman who's desperate to get married, and on her first date in 4 years. So really, who am I going to tell?! My husband? Pretty sure I have a long list of house hold matters I need to discuss with Him first. I won't get to your issues this year, and by next year I'll have forgotten to tell Him. But no really, the family budget, the children, and the insane electrical system in my house are first in line before YOUR medical issues. Which He'd find so boring that He wouldn't be listening so He'd be totally confused and wouldn't know if you had the flu, or a genetic mutation giving you super powers. The point is that because I find all this so interesting, and I have things I can usually do to help you treat the situation I get frustrated with the lack of information, or consultations. Believe me, if I can't help you I will refer you to someone I think has better information. There are people who can vouch for that too. I've been a disappointing answer to a few people's questions when I refer them out to someone who's had a similar situation, or just another person with an actual degree in medicine. It doesn't mean I didn't know, but I DIDN'T go to medical school. I got a degree in dance. I can't diagnose. I can just guess, ask you to confirm with your doctor, and then wish I'd bet someone $100 on whether I was right. Like I said. I should've gone for pre-med. Occupational Therapy would't have been a bad choice either. I also know that sometimes Doctors lose themselves in the work. They get in a rut, and get lost in the routine of sick people. Then they happen upon something interesting and they can't quite figure it out. While they're running tests and trying to track down the culprit other symptoms pop up because YOU'RE despondent about the situation. Yeah I know, crazy right? You actually confuse the doctor because you create symptoms in your body unrelated to the illness because of YOUR emotional state. I'm telling you the body is amazing! It's also crazy effected by itself. Everything is connected. I say that a lot to my clients in regards to tissue. It applies to the systems as well. Your muscles effect your posture, which effects your nervous system, which effects your endocrine system, which effects your gastrointestinal system, which effects your posture. . . it's kind of a cycle. Your mental state effects your Physical state. We can believe in a placebo effect, but we can't grasp that our emotions are adding symptoms to our situation that are making it harder for the doctor to figure out what's going on. This is where I come in. I get to help you remove some of the stuff that is getting in the way. I pull the posture back into alignment, release hormones that encourage the good things to get back to being good, and remove the emotions ( albeit sometimes only temporarily) that were getting in the way of the REAL diagnosis. Sometimes I get lucky and I get to fix the situation entirely. Other times it just becomes easier to deal with all the poking and scanning, and stabbing they do at the doctors office. Either way, I'm a good ear to listen to. I've got a fairly logical head on my shoulders and I'm not too shabby and understanding actual medical jargon. I even like it. I know people write me off as a luxury type thing. A "day at the spa" profession. I'm not that therapist. I do MEDICAL massage. emphasis on MEDICAL. Meaning that what I do is medicine for the body. AND IT WORKS!!! Like, really works. Scientific studies works. Medically endorsed works. I don't smear lotion on people. I assist in their wellness. Wellness as in not sick anymore. It's foreign concept I know. I spent time in Europe where Massage Therapists are taken seriously. It's a form of medicine. It works. Most people where I currently live wouldn't get it. I do. I bothered to learn, and I get real tired of reminding people that I'm a resource. I will help you if I can. If it's outside my scope of practice I will honestly, and happily refer you to someone I think is better qualified. Just please stop thinking that I smear lotion on people. Please stop thinking that I don't know how to help. Please, for the love of the human body, and all that is magnificent about it . . . Just ask me!!!! end rant.

The Smell of Skunk, and Pine-sol

I'm not a particularly open human being. I guard some secrets with my life. I've opened up about some of my least favorite life experiences, but I tend to keep the day to day stuff inside the closet. Yeah, I'll very openly talk about a seriously abusive relationship that left me physically, and mentally changed forever. I'll gladly tell you about the bad choices I've made and the fact that I hope no one ever makes my mistakes. Ask me how I feel about being called weird? . . . My silence will suffice. And if you still need an answer I'll write you a story about a little girl who was called weird most of her life. I was very deeply affected by certain things growing up. I keep them to myself. Even my husband doesn't know how I really feel until he reads through a journal entry, or blog post. I don't know how to look someone in the eye and say "I'm not ok. I need help, and I need you to throw me a big party that celebrates everything good about me. Because I don't know what's good about me.". I literally don't know how to deal with the small stuff. Throw me a traumatic event, I got that. Give me the smallest disappointment, I'm completely lost. How do you deal with the fact that you had more friends than you could keep up with, and suddenly everyone will "like" your post on Facebook, but won't come to dinner at your house? How do you reconcile a wedding photo with people who you thought of as family with the fact that you can't even get them to answer a text message. I've been "ghosted" by everyone I called a friend and I'm not really sure what to do with that. I find the whole thing very unsettling. Either way I think the hardest part has been trying to come to grips with the fact that this has happened is that I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to fix it. How do you reach out to people who don't know you? How do you ask for the help your friends should be giving you when you don't have any friends? How do you find anyone that won't think you're looking for attention, or just being negative? Add to this the mental instability of pregnancy hormones you're left wondering if you're actually unstable, or if you're just lonely. You know you're supposed to be nesting, but you're also trying desperately to keep things in a budget because kids aren't cheap. You can't buy things, and there's no one to help you out. Then you try to nest by cleaning the house; only there's a toddler running around dumping dirt, and oatmeal, and rice all over the house. You begin to wonder why you're trying at all. You scrub hard water off a bathroom only to discover that there's another layer under that one. At the point at which you start crying you pick up your phone to call a friend to share your feelings with and have them validate you. Only that's right; you've been ghosted by everyone you could share with. Then you think it's because you're an introvert naturally. Maybe it is. Maybe you should get a hobby. Maybe you should get out and do something. Oh, that's right. You work insane hours, and have a toddler, and you can't afford a sitter. Bottom line, sometimes postpartum doesn't manifest as you wanting to kill yourself, or your children. Sometimes its an inability to figure out how to be the friend you want to be, or how to keep up with your friends who don't have children. And sometimes it costs you every one of the friends you thought you had.

Milk Mustaches, and Dirty Fingernails

I have a real issue with people who take man bashing as a responsibility. They constantly point out moments where Men should be doing something simply because "they should know", or because "we, as women, don't have to be asked.". Well that may very well be true, but can you honestly say that men think the same way women do? I'm pretty sure that there are a plethora of studies saying that they don't. So the idea that you may have to "ask" or "remind" them of things we never have to ask or remind them of shouldn't be a surprise. We don't gain anything as women by degrading them. There are misogynists and there are misandrists. For anyone who doesn't know what Misandry is; it's the hate of men. I just get so tired of watching Mothers who don't like their children's Dad, or had a bad relationship teaching younger boys that they aren't worth a thing. They don't say it directly to them; no they're far more devious than that. They say things to other adults, they have facial expressions, and tear these poor boys apart one moment at a time. Then they end up married to women who are emotionally abusive. The idea that anyone would think that asking your husband to stay home so you can go out with the girls, or wherever is wrong… I'm sorry, I thought that the fact that He went to work, helped with the house work when He got home, assisted with raising the child/children, made time for you, AND attempted to also make time for extended family kinda gets him off the hook for remembering your "girls night". I will admit that unless it's on my calendar I have no idea it's happening. So if my Husband wants me to be aware of an activity He's planning to attend, He puts it on the calendar. Also, I don't "ask" Him to babysit. I confirm that there isn't any last minute conflicts within that week, or things that didn't make it on the calendar. Not because I'm subservient, or my Husband is an inconsiderate jerk, but because sometimes we all need a reminder. It also helps to confirm that nothing slipped through the cracks. It's about communication. We ask to be respectful of all the hard things they do all day to make us feel comfortable. We ask to show them that we are considering their feelings. Most importantly we ask to show our children that Men have value too. In the same way our husbands buy flowers because it's tuesday. For the same reason that we kiss each other in front of the children, and verbally express affection/gratitude for each other. Children need us as adults to STOP berating each other for our genders. We are partners in this crazy world. I really do wish that women would just accept that men are as annoying to us as we are to them. For all the faults they have they are good. And raising good sons is highly dependent on mothers who are willing to lift their husbands up. Women who will show sons that even with faults and flaws; they are worth a forgiving smile, a sigh, a kiss, and our continued support and love. I know many women who I would identify as "fem-nazis". They are so busy creating a world in which they are completely 100% equal with men that they forget that they already are. We are as equal as we can be! Women, biologically, are not the same as men. We were never designed to be 100% the same. The idea that You would WANT to be is what seems insane to me. I am happy with my place. I am happy to be the emotional side of a logical partnership. Anyone with good business sense will tell you that a successful business needs to have 2 people who are different. A visionary/Idea person ( aka the emotional one) and a Technician/logical person (aka the "insensitive bustard"). These two come together and create something that works. They balance each other and ensure that the visionary doesn't dream so far beyond the means of the partnership before the venture gets going, and that the technician is pushed to see things they would not have otherwise been able to imagine. It's beautiful really! Our young men/boys need to see this. Our girls need to stop being afraid of men who know their place, and are totally comfortable with themselves. It's ok to admit that your place is "in the kitchen". I'd be willing to bet that if you made a decent sandwich He'd jump out of bed the minute He heard the fridge open and rush in to be with you. Because, well lets be honest, everyone belongs in the kitchen. . . that's where the food is. He'll probably clean up the mess after you're done making that amazing sandwich. Spoiling your man doesn't mean you're less than him. It means you recognize the effort He has put into being a GOOD man. If you're spoiling the wrong man, that's kinda your problem. Stop spoiling that man, and find the good guy with a steady job, a healthy sense of himself, and a purpose. Then watch as you're "spoiling" turns into his complete and total adoration. His inability to imagine his life without you. That's equality to me. Different roles, that both support the healthy, balanced relationships of happy homes.

One Fish, Two Fish, Three, Four, Five

I blog when I'm emotional. It keeps me honest. I don't like to hide behind polite so no one gets hurt. People get offended. If we spend our whole lives hiding our feelings so that we don't offend someone else's sensibilities we will drive ourselves insane. I have been trying for months to make my house MY home. Not anyone else's. Regardless of who lived here before it is mine now. I don't get out much. I spend 90% of my day tending my daughter, cleaning my home, attempting to get paperwork for my business done, Seeing Clients,and make sure my Husband is taken care of as well. I deal with a never-ending pile of laundry. I attempt to cook meals that satisfy both nutrition, and the picky tastebuds of a toddler. I have to master the madness and insanity that is cleaning a house with a toddler. I rarely leave my house. Not because I'm anti-social, or because I don't like people. I work from home to make things easier on my family and ensure I see more of the profits so we can actually afford to have a family. I get kicked, bitten, and hit most of the day. I do my best to not lose my temper, and I've never struck my child while I try to stop the hitting, kicking, and biting. I hurt. I'm carrying another baby and I can't imagine it's enjoying the kicking, and hitting, and biting of my abdomen from 8am - 4pm when my Husband gets home and suddenly we have a perfect little angel again. I never really sleep. I'm in a constant state of fight/flight with my eyes shut so that I can hear when the dog needs to be let out, the baby needs to be rocked, and anything else that has to be taken care of in the middle of the night. It may not seem like a big deal but maintaining a yard with a dog; when everything makes you sick to your stomach the thought is enough. After cleaning up dog poop everyday I get to stand in the heat and try to encourage my child to explore, and discover whilst attempting to not get so sick from the heat that I lose the little bit of food I can keep down. Most women get out of the house with their little ones. With the tantrums, and hitting not under control I haven't been able to do that. Plus there's the budget to consider. You have to have money for dinner out, a babysitter… you get my point. Plus having the time to go out. My profession means that I have to work when other people get done with the work day. I rarely get to have an evening off. I know, I know; I'm a mom I signed up for this. You're right. I go with my Husband on Saturdays to watch Him play Australian Football which actually means that I get to be a responsible parent and chase a toddler around missing the entire game. I miss a great bonding moment and relationship builder with my Husband to make sure my child doesn't go running into the street. I run my home on 3-4 hours of sleep that is constantly interrupted. Adding to this my profession. After giving to my child and trying to give to my Husband all day I get to give to clients. People think that it doesn't take much emotionally to give a massage. They recognize the physical demand, but they fail to see the emotional. Therapeutic touch has intention. Good intention to be specific. You have to be willing and able to constantly emit, and embody positive. By doing so you give that to the person needing to be healed. You give to them physically the strength needed to lengthen tissue that is short, and break through scar tissue that inhibits movement and life and has created pain. You give the emotional understanding that is needed to be worthy of the trust they have placed in you, and the positive thoughts so that the client can let go of the hurt and heal. The only time I actually get to myself is the 10 minutes when I drive from the babysitter to my client, and then another 10 minutes when I drive from my client to the babysitter. I sit in the rocking chair in the baby's room in the middle of the night rocking a crying child while fighting back tears of both exhaustion and discouragement. I get 1 "real" shower a week. The rest of the time I get my body washed, and pull the hair up to try and hide the fact that it hasn't been washed in almost a week. While other mom's are chatting it up at the gym; I'm saving money so we don't go over budget. I used to dance. I was that girl you could catch very unabashedly dancing with the mop and vacuum. Unfortunately Ballroom isn't exactly the style of dancing that's bumping in the clubs these days. I have accepted that all of this is what I signed up for the day I decided I wanted children. It doesn't; however, change the fact that it is still very taxing on a person. To give and give and give, to hold back who you are inside. To keep comments, and thoughts, and feelings to yourself because you might damage a relationship that is important to someone you care for. To bite your tongue so hard it bleeds, and then smile while swallowing the blood to keep the peace. To not have anyone approve of you no matter how much you know that if you were to actually be yourself they'd think the polite person you're being for them is SO much better. With out a proper way to cope you just sort of implode. you start burning up from the inside out and die. I feel like I'm dying. The friends I did have are now distant friends. The hobbies I had are gone because there's no time for them and the responsibilities I have at home. I get asked all the time why I don't do things for myself. When? Between attempting to convince a child to eat solid food so I don't have to be up every 2 hours at night, and the laundry which my Husband needs done so He can go to work and keep us in a home, and the clients spaced out through the whole day, and the bathrooms that need to be cleaned, and the washing machine that needs to be repaired, and the weeding that must be done, and the child who needs love and attention to learn, and the dog who needs attention and grooming, and the meals that have to be prepared, and the groceries, and the church callings… please tell me when I'm supposed to do something for me and still get enough sleep to build the baby growing inside me. I give up. I am done trying to make friends, or keep friends, or any of it. I try, and try, and try. My Husbands friends are the only people I know anymore. I had friends. Dear friends. People I knew would be honest with me even if I didn't want to hear it. People who treated me like family, or so I thought. Now I have a list of needs that have to be filled to keep everyone's lives around me enriched. I am aware I signed up for this when I got pregnant. I just thought I might get a little bit of time to myself here and there. more than a 10 minute drive between the babysitter and my house. I thought I would still have time for my friends. I am beyond exhausted. I am spent. Why do I blog when I'm emotional? Because if you asked me this when I'm standing in front of the people I have to keep up a performance for I'd never tell you that I've given up. I'd give you a sweet answer about being tired, but that it's all worth it. You'd never know that I felt dead inside. That I dread certain interactions because I just get to sit there running an inner dialog so that I don't embarrass my Husband, or hurt the feelings of those close to Him. It's The kind of dead that happens when you're not allowed to express your real thoughts about anything because it will offend someone you're supposed to be getting along with for your husbands sake. Because " you know He could go pretty far if you'd learn to keep your mouth shut.". So this is me. Keeping my mouth shut, and killing the person I am so that everything is the way all those people expect it to be.

Brown Sugar

There are many things I have irrational pet peeves about. One of them is this "designer dog" craze. Someone 'accidentally' lets two dogs from different breeds have a couple litters of pups, and then they sell them for $200-$700 a piece. REALLY?!?!?!?!!! you're going to sell a MUT, Mongrel for WHAT?! I can go to my local shelter and pick one of those up for far less than that. AND I get the joy of knowing that I saved a soul from being "humanly" executed. Shelter dogs are always so very happy to be adopted. They desperately want to be loved, and accepted by a "pack" that will keep them permanently. Nothing will ever love you the way a rescued dog will. And you get to stop the ridiculous people who are selling over priced mongrels. I'm not even sure that people truly understand the ramifications of buying these designer dogs. The back yard breeders who have no license, no experience, improper facilities, no money for the vet. That's who you're encouraging. People who locked a male and female dog in an enclosed space, day after day, while they went to work, then were surprised when the female ends up pregnant. You don't spay/neuter your animals they will reproduce. Biology 101. Then they have the audacity to tell me they're selling "designer dogs"?? No, you're trying to make a profit off an accident. Better yet are the people who intentionally do this to 2 animals. Sticking the female back in with males the minute she goes into her first heat after having just weened a litter. seriously?! we don't even recommend that type of thing for human females, let alone an animal that is carrying 8-10 babies. These dogs are not designers. They're muts that happen to create cute puppies. I just genuinely can not understand why ANYone would knowingly pay for a mut/mongrel what most people pay for a dog who has papers, is registered with AKC, and a pedigree more than 2 generations old. It makes me seriously question the judgement of someone willing to pay for a "designer" dog. I question their ability to properly train and socialize. I question their understanding of the commitment to an animal. I question whether they have enough sense to understand the difference between a bad habit, and a bad dog. I question their ability to establish dominance without being violent, and I typically see them walking around THINKING they're the pack leader. Most of the "designer" dog owners I've personally known are not the alpha. They're at the total whim of their dog. They know what fido "likes" and what fido "hates", but being the alpha is knowing fido hates to sit on the floor and making him do it with a simple look because company is over. . . not begging, or baby talking, or constantly having to shoo him off the couch. You give the look/command, fido obeys and does try to "get away with it". Believe me, I've had my share of dominance battles with my Rescue. I always win, and I win quickly and without aggression. Can you honestly tell me you can do that when you were tricked into buying a dog bred by someone with less than the proper qualifications? Who's decision on who gets their "designer" pups amounts to whoever shows up with the right amount of cash? I'll be you pick the puppy that came running to you didn't you? yeah.. that one is the enforcer. Which means it makes the rules. "But it came right up to me and picked me!"… please! My dog chose me too. I knew it, she knew it. I also knew I would be battling for dominance the rest of Her life because of it. I was prepared to establish a pack order, and I was more than prepared to maintain my claim to Alpha. I also ended up with a pure bred Siberian Husky from a shelter. A dog worth $1600. I paid $75; Micro-chip included. Remind me again why you're paying $200 for a mixed animal? Sure it breeds out the bad. It can also enhance the bad. If a breeder doesn't know what they're doing, and you don't have a pedigree going back more than 2 generations there's no telling what breed specific issues you'll end up with. You could have the hip problems of the german shepherd, with the skin problems of a Golden Retriever in your Golden Shepherd "designer" dog. pet peeve about food? Don't speak while you have food in your mouth. Nothing will be a faster way for me to lose respect for you than talking to anyone while I can see food in your mouth. It's disgusting, it's rude, and it's completely on my nerves. I have been known to be uncharacteristically rude to people who have done this. I just don't see what's so hard about chewing your food and swallowing before you speak. I suppose you might be worried that someone will see you as rude, but I'm sure they'll wait. Most well mannered people would. If you absolutely MUST speak, pull your had in front of your mouth! Or use a napkin for heavens sake! You've got the thing in your lap! use it! I suppose part of being raise in a home with an older set of parents who actually learned proper etiquette, and manners is that I seem to value little things like not having someone display their half masticated meal to me. I enjoy conversation that doesn't involve me wondering how many times you'll open your yapper with that same chunk of half eaten meal in you cheek. Perhaps you're saving it for later like a chipmunk? Or maybe you're not educated enough to realize that we can all see your food. Maybe it's not just embarrassing enough to know that you've made the rest of us gag on our own forks while you attempted to enchant us with your less than stellar wit. Believe me, if it needs to be said it can wait until you have swallowed. PLEASE for the love of all that is decent in society SWALLOW your food before you speak! it's one of the simplest and most basic of manners! It should be as innate as chewing with your lips closed! another things that seems to drive me up the wall. NO ONE wants to hear you "smack smack smack" as you chew. I can see whats on your plate, I don't need to see it in your mouth to know you're eating it.

Cutting Your Own Hair Before the Baby Puke Sets In.

Today I had a nervous break down. Not a bad one, but a little one for sure. As I stood there chopping, very haphazardly, 2 inches off the bottom of my hair I realized what my issue is. I am NOT Jesse. I can't be. I have an entirely different genetic make-up, and DNA sequence. I have different parents, lived a different life, in a different town, met different people, and have a different spirit. I can not be anything but me. . . And I'm a good person too. It's really hard to be compared to someone else. It's hard to feel that comparison when you meet up with others. It is discouraging and tiresome to feel the need to live up to that person's reputation and influence. To try and be for everyone else what that person is/was for them. I would LOVE to have been able to give my husband a son for His first child. God clearly had something else up His sleeve. He knew that this little girl NEEDED her daddy. He knew that there was only one man who could be the proper example of what type of man to be married to. So I didn't give my husband a son. I gave him a daughter who adores him. There's nothing wrong with me that I "produced" a girl instead of a boy. NOTHING. I am opinionated, and emotional. I am not a stoic, well behaved woman who can put emotions aside and remain calm when someone does something that hurts me. ( as is evident by my new hair cut.) I am NOT the bigger person. I am almost insanely protective of the people I love and consider of the highest importance to me. I will not give up what I value without a fight, and you'd better believe that if you hurt me I will not forget and I will be slow to warm the next time around. I have been known to "throw the book" at people who double cross me. I am not known for being kind and "understanding" in situations where I've been wronged. I don't have perfectly styled hair. I struggle to find a style that fits both my body, and the current trends. I don't really understand how to apply make-up outside of a stage performance. I'm not "poplar" and have very little fashion sense. But I can guarantee you that I will wear it until it's thread-bare just to get my moneys worth. I don't wear name brands because it's just not practical. I'd have to work 80 hours a week to be able to pay for that. And now with a child I don't have time for anything that say's "dry clean only"… are you kidding me? I am constantly covered in baby puke of some degree. . or drool. Either way, it must be baby friendly to be in my closet. Speaking of which; as this is my first child I'm stuck wearing the "pre-baby" clothes I had before. Yes, I am aware that I don't technically fit into them anymore. I was a little more concerned with diapers and wipes for my infant than my personal stylings. I'm not saying that there's a baby going without, but I"m just saying.. as for my husband… He had the choice to walk away. I may spend the rest of my life convincing some people that it wasn't a desperate "last ditch" engagement; that he actually thought it through and decided that this messed up, emotional Scotch/Irish Imp was the one he wanted to marry but he did. I spend day's trying to convince myself that that was the case. I promise I didn't hold a gun to his head, or threaten him, or even use "feminine wiles". I was myself. I even got angry and mouthed off to him once or twice just to make sure. I am me. I am the only person I can be, and trying to be another person has ended with a horrible hair cut, and a lot of tears ( not from the hair cut). Some other stuff too, but we won't go into that. I promise that I can be just as wonderful as she can be if given the chance. Different, but just as wonderful . . . in my own way.

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

I was prepared for a lot of things about parenting. As I lay in the tub with my feet sitting next to the Baby Head-to-toe wash I recognize my life will never be the same. I knew that going in, and I was very much ok with it. I welcomed the new life I would be living. The heartache a child in rebellion would bring, the sleepless nights, the wet beds, the broken things, the macaroni art, the muddy foot prints on my newly mopped floors, and the egg and syrup smashed into my carpet. I knew it was coming and I was ready. What I was not prepared for was the isolation. The people in my life who would stop inviting me, stop coming over, stop associating because I now had a baby. I wasn't prepared to watch all my married, but childless friends move on without me simply because I couldn't keep up now that I had a slower piece of my life in tow. I was prepared for the way that the world around me would shift into things I couldn't participate in because I didn't want my child exposed to that. I wasn't prepared for the way that the charitable things I did before would have to be put on the shelf because every extra penny I had was going to diapers, wipes, or medical bills for a child I was now trying to raise without government hand-outs. I wasn't prepared for the lack of enthusiasm I felt suddenly embodied the world around me, and enveloped me. I was NOT prepared for the way that the lack of sleep would affect my health. I've never been as "healthy" as my siblings. I mean I was at one point. At one point I was the healthiest person in my family. Now I find myself struggling to keep my head above the flu/cold epidemic. I feel the twinge of a body that has had nutrients sucked out of it. I feel the disappointment of planning a good night out and then finding out that there's no one available to play in the way an introvert can. I was not ready for the way it would feel to not understand the way it would feel. I was not prepared for not having baby blues, but having total exhaustion and not wanting people to think you didn't want to play, but you're just too tired to even wash the dishes. I was NOT prepared for the way in which I would be so incredible unable to interact socially the way I used to. I was not prepared for all the emotional weirdness that comes from being just this TIRED! I was also not prepared for the fact that every part of my body hurts from trying to work, and care for an infant that is no longer little 7lb bundle of joy. I hurt in every joint, I can barely hold my baby without my arms hurting let alone perform massages for work at the depth needed for injury maintenance; I feel like I'm 90. The part of me that would love to spend a little money and time on myself knows that I'd better be putting that money in an account for emergency doctor visits, or college, or even just anything that involves my child. It has been a life altering event for sure. Most of the physical stuff I was prepared for. Most of the mental stuff I was prepared for. Unfortunately only some of the emotional stuff I was prepared for. I think I'd like to get back to being able to have friends, and eat real food. Maybe when she's 20.

To The Dog House

I feel like I can no longer sit silently and not make my feelings clear. I will side with Israel. This is an unpopular statement, but I can not ignore the fact that Hamas is a terrorist organization. They may be the government of Palestine as of now, but they were a terrorist organization first. They are known for using children to hide behind so that if anyone retaliates they are accused of killing children. I can not ignore this fact about them. Nor can I deny Israel the right to fight for their own freedom and safety. Most of us would agree that if someone attack our family we would go after them. For both religious, genealogical, and deeply personal reasons I will stand by Israel. I will support them in their attempt to defend their way of life. I will not deny them the attempt to fight terror with the means at their disposal. I will not judge them. I will acknowledge the sadness of the collateral damage due to Hamas's need to use civilians as shields. I will walk this line very carefully and consistently check my facts. I will be aware of their movements and make my alliances accordingly. As it stands, I stand with Israel.

Lemon Zest, or Peppermint Twist

Some times there is nothing you can do but succumb to the hurt. I'll admit that I have let myself go since having my baby. It has been a full time job of simply trying to keep a miniature human being fed, clean, healthy, and mildly content. I'm also trying to keep a house clean, feed a dog and keep her active, feed a husband and provide clean/pressed work clothes, support coaching efforts, participate in my church, teach, be a sister, a child, and work enough to help with the bills. Along with this I keep hearing "Be sure to take care of yourself!"; usually said with a smile it's an absolute insult. Nothing makes me feel like more of a failure than having people point out that I have no social fulfillment, no physical fulfillment ( as in working out you perv's.), and no emotional fulfillment after a day of a screaming infant, irritated dog, and busy husband. I am alone in a house daily. I am TRYING to find time to do ANYthing for myself. You think I don't know that I'm falling apart? is it possible that it has escaped your reason that I don't actually enjoy looking like I just rolled out of a whore house?! I would absolutely LOVE to spend some time doing an intense gym work out, but if I DO have free time I get to spend it cleaning up the office so that I have a sanitary space for clients to be. If that gets done then I get to work on the rest of the house. Considering that I'm lucky if I can get a shower long enough to get soap on the "important" parts and get it washed off! I spend 90% of my shower holding an infant in a towel covered in soap. If I can get the soap rinsed off I feel like I had a good day. If I can get my hair washed it's even better! and that's just the shower. Imagine that kind of an event, and now think about trying to feed myself, or hydrate myself. . . No really, I'll give you a minute here to think about it. So, I've got an infant who is absolutely inconsolable if I don't have both hands touching her, and my undivided attention on her. Add to this a dog who NEEDS attention and activity as well. Heck I've spent almost 3 weeks composing just this far in the blog, and I type while my baby screams in her crib, and I sit on the toilet ( because some things should be done alone), and my dog stares at me from the door way. Please, tell me where in all of this I am supposed to go for a 30-40 minute run. Or have lunch with friends, or go bowling, or even just sit and not be screamed at or barked at. My mind wouldn't stop thinking about all the house chores, and laundry, and yard work that needs to get done anyway. My poor neighbors have been smelling the dog for almost 2 months because I haven't been able to get outside long enough to clean up after the dog. IF the grass survives the drought it'll still have to survive the suffocating dog mess out there. Sleep isn't even being mentioned because I don't know any parent who actually sleeps in the first year, good or impossible child. Do I have postpartum? According to the check-list at the doctor's office no. Would I say I'm feeling a little less happy, and far more sarcastically sadistic than normal? oh you better believe it. I laugh at my daughter when she cries. I'm pretty sure I'm making her a total psychopath by the way I just ignore that she's miserable so I can drink, or eat, or just give my arms and back a break. I've read all the studies, I've listened to all the experts, but what no one seems to realize when they say " be sure to make time for yourself" is that the only time I get is spend sleeping while I can. Which doesn't fill any of the other aspects of life. I watch from home as my friends live life! thank heavens for Facebook so I at least can see what is going on in their lives! I'm not saying I don't love my Daughter, I do. I love my daughter, my husband, and my dog. I am lonely, tired, frustrated, and aware that I appear to have "let myself go"; But please, before you try to tell me to find time for myself, or to take care of myself consider everything that is actually happening in my life. Consider that maybe, just maybe, there isn't time for me because all 24 of the hours in my day have been given to someone else.

Sleeping Dogs Lie

I like food. I like the fat, the gluten, the sugar, the carbs, the salts, the whole nine yards! I enjoy my fair share of burgers, and I don't shy away from ice cream. I'm not saying I'm addicted, or that I go over board. I just think that there is something to be said for food that tastes good. I see no problem in people wanting to eat healthier. I have no problem with my friends who are vegan, or my friends who are stout believers in the Atkins diet. I just think that we put WAY too much thought into the food we're eating. People are borderline obsessed with it! Not the good " oh my goodness this is delicious I've got to figure out how to make this!" kind of obsessed. I'm talking about the kind of obsession that takes the fun out of food. Yes, I know, it's rather incredible that there could be fun in food. Just trust me on this one;there really is. Most of us can agree that we enjoy eating over being hungry. We like the way it feels when our bellies are full. Some of us have adverse reactions to certain foods and feel "sluggish" or "icky" after. I am always amazed when I start talking about my favorite Hamburger joint that I get interrupted with an "oh yeah, I can't eat that stuff. I just feel so disgusting inside. I mean, how could you put that in your body?!". . . really? seriously? I'm raving about how much I LOVE the place and you're going to try to make me feel guilty? ( as a side note I've been known to respond to stuff like that with a " how could you NOT put this in your body?!!") I just think that people need to back the heck up on the fad train here and respect people's taste buds. I'm not asking you to 'actually' go try this place. I'm not telling you that you'll spend the rest of your life regretting having never been. Ok I might tell you that, but I don't care if you don't go. It's no flavor off my palette! I am a fan of eating what feels good. I will go for weeks in the summer eating nothing but vegetables. I will eat fatty fried foods for a few days in the winter when I'm feeling extra cold. Reality is that if you listen to your body you're usually going to be just fine. Most of the "health problems" related to food come from an obsession with denying what is needed for the body to function. there are certain amino acids you NEED, there are lipids, and carbohydrates you NEED. Then there is the rest of it. Learning to feel hungry for a food and recognize what you're NEEDING is part of being a balanced person. I'm aware that I don't NEED a burger every time I crave one. I'll be a hot mess if you tell me I shouldn't eat one ever again though. I'm using common sense with my bodies communication system to recognize that I need lipids. COMMON SENSE. I know it's incredibly mystical and all, but I swear it works. You don't even have to be a nutritionist, or have a Phd to know how it works. Seriously! People tell me that nothing curbs the appetite like a salty snack of fries. well, uhm… salted peanuts do. My mom used to eat those dry roasted almonds with light seasoning. Though believe me I will be the first to grab my car keys if we haven't had fries in a while and you make the suggestion.

I bring all this up because people keep commenting on how I'm "not that big" for being 7 months pregnant. I mentioned that I paid attention to what I was eating. I've been able to stick to the 25 recommended pounds. Meaning I've got 2.5 months to go, and I've still got 8lbs to gain. I feel like I'm doing alright. I could be more active, yes, but I chose to focus on what I'm putting in. Paying attention and using common sense. Though I don't obsess over the newest craze diet, or health scare. I eat vegetables, I eat proteins, I even enjoy over loading on sugar and then talking my husband into going for ice cream sundaes. I'm a fan of food! All kinds of food! I think that eating meat is a good thing. I like my saint louis style ribs. I like my burgers. I like Hot wings, and I LOVE my mothers pot roast. I love apple pie, and cream puffs, and doughnuts, and deep fried apple fritters. I love strawberry and spinach salad, and fruit kabobs, and grilled nectarines with brown sugar and butter glaze. I absolutely LOVE food! I think a healthy human being is not a size, but a feeling. Healthy people feel alive. If what you're eating makes you hate life. . . dude, change the meal plan. If what you're eating makes you want to enjoy the people and the world around you; Keep it up shoog! You've got a good thing going. Bottom line is that food should be a part of LIVING, not a part of surviving until our next birthday. I will go to my grave having enjoyed that butter on my toast regardless of what you say it's doing to my cholesterol. Why? Because food is awesome.