2013 New Year's Resolutions

I tend to only make resolutions that I'm pretty sure I can accomplish.  Of course I always wanna resolve to lose weight, but let's be honest... who sticks to that resolution passed the first week?  If it happens, yay, if it doesn't happen, boo.

So this year I am making four more realistic and do-able resolutions.

1) Be nicer to my husband.  I have issues.  I'm hard to live with.  I don't like people.  But I chose to marry my husband and really, I can't imagine a better catch.  He loves me unconditionally, he loves my children like his own (well, one is his), he is a good provider, a hard worker and he would do anything for me.  Sure he annoys the crap outta me a lot, but anyone that doesn't completely agree with their spouse is annoying, am I right?  And although when he is grumpy it is hard for me to bite my tongue and not wanna throw him out the nearest window, I'm going to try my best to be nicer to him both to his face and behind his back.

No one tell him about this resolution- he doesn't read my blog, so don't be snitching on me!

2) Blog more and blog better.  I have three blogs.  This one, 365 Queries and my anonymous mental health blog.  I go through phases when I feel like blogging and when I don't.  Aside from reviews, which I've tried to be more selective about, I only blog if I feel I have something good to say.  I don't want to force out some blah blog about some menial topic like the weather.  I took a grad class last semester (I got an A, thank you very much!) that was all about writing for the web.  I learned so many good tips about being an effective blogger and social media persona!  Hopefully I can work on implementing these- I've been taking baby steps.

3) Play with my kids more.  I have issues.  "Play" is not a word that often enters my vocabulary, let alone my way of thinking.  Although I love my parents and thing they did a lot of things right, I can not recall a single instance when they played with me.  I'm sure they did when I was really little, but after that, I don't remember any form of interaction that involved fun having.  I was fortunate to have two older brothers who would play with me, though.  I can tell that when I do play with my children it means so much to them.  My sons are already happy-go-lucky and affectionate, but my daughter tends to be a little more reserved with those emotions.  But when I play with her, I find that she really feels happy and afterwards is very loving towards me.  I like it!

4) Finish my masters.  Now this is easier said than done.  I'm done with the grad class portion where I have to meet my hour requirements.  But I'm still waiting on someone to get on board with my capstone.  I don't know if it is because I burned bridges when I withdrew from the university in 2010 and no one wants to work with me.  I understand that many of the professors are legitimately busy, but nonetheless... I am hitting brick walls.  In theory I could be done at the end of this semester.  Is it likely?  No.  Unless I can find someone to direct my capstone by Jan. 14, it's a no go.  Then comes summer semester... and if I still can't find anyone... fall... then spring... you get my drift.  I just wanna be done with it so that my boss will quit harassing me and I can have more teaching opportunities.  Plus I'd like to start on my masters in sociology as well.

Well, that about sums it up.  I have a few little things here and there that I think about, like not caring so much about having shitty "friends" (there are a couple that aren't), being a better teacher, being more positive... but those are kind of lifelong ambitions.

Anyone wanna share their resolutions?

Guilt and the chubby guy in a red suit.

You know one word that probably doesn't come to mind when people think about Christmas?

GUILT

 I'm sure a few of you reading this are thinking, "um, I've totally been saying this for years!"  Okay, well to those of you who haven't... this blog's for you.  I have a huge issue with guilt as it is.  In fact, my new therapist pointed out to me the first visit how many times I used the words guilt and guilty when talking about my feelings.  I had never realized what a huge "burden" it was to me until she pointed it out.  But this blog is more centered around guilt and Christmas, so I will forge ahead.

My first point about guilt is the receiving end.  I've had this problem for YEARS... if my mom gets me a gift I don't like, I feel huge amounts of guilt.  I know she put a lot of thought into it, spent her hard earned money on it and was probably quite pleased.  So I feel awful if I don't like something.  I think that this is the reason why to this day I abhor (and I mean ABHOR) opening gifts in front of people.  I don't like having to fake a smile if I don't like something, but I don't want to hurt someone's feelings either.  What tends to happen if I get a gift I don't like is that I put it in a closet for a year until I can let go.  Then I feel guilty getting rid of it, but feel better about not hoarding things I don't need.  It doesn't really bug me if anyone else gets me a gift I don't like... because it's kind of expected.

Next item of guilt: gift giving.  I've never really realized how much guilt this brings until this year.  I don't really emphasize Santa with my kids.  I don't want to "lie" to them, but I don't want them to miss out on something that the kids around them are excited about.  So I don't really tell them about Santa, I just don't NOT tell them about Santa.  I let them think what they like based on the world around them, books, peers, mass media.  They can't even make a trip to the doctor without being asked about Santa.  But this year I was privy to seeing what both kids asked for from Santa.  Each only asked for one thing and guess what- I hadn't bought either of those things!  They were definitely not expensive items, I just didn't know they wanted them.  I'm not big on the "make me a list of 100 things you want and I'll buy 10."  I prefer at the age my kids are now to buy things I think they will like based on what their interests are.  Now if I noticed them eying something on the shelf at WalMart, I might keep that in mind, but I don't ask them specifically for a list.  I like to think I'm in tune with what my kids like.  But anyway, I felt guilty knowing that neither of them got the one thing they asked for.  Well, as luck would have it, what my daughter asked for was actually something I got for my son for his upcoming birthday.  He didn't ask for it, I just thought he'd like it.  So quick wrapping paper swap and under the tree it went with her name on it.  That meant he had one gift less than her... which meant I needed to get him another one... which left room for the thing he asked for.

  

Does this make it seem like my kids are spoiled?  I don't think so.  But it alleviated a bit of my guilt, and that's what I wanted.  I also feel guilty if I don't think the gift I got another family member is something they really want, but there's not much I can do about that.

Anyone else get Christmas anxiety due to guilt?    

Restoring some faith in humanity.

So I have to say that lately I've been bombarded by how selfish people can be and also how lackadaisical people can be.  It just blows my mind how people don't realize that you can't just take, you have to give... it's called karma because when people do nice things for you, treat you with respect or do things that they wouldn't normally do just because they are good people... and you don't reciprocate- don't be surprised if your life doesn't come out roses.  I think this is generally because shitty people make shitty life choices and decisions and it crashes down on their shoulders eventually.

Anyway, but on a positive note.  I recently met this gal through my grad class.  We instantly clicked and although I never get my hopes up, she seems like someone I'd like to be friends with for a long, long time.  Anyway, she has really kept my spirits up and made me laugh (which is a huge deal in my book.)  Well, last night I drove 100 miles to class on a different campus just because she wanted me to.  I thought it would be nice to see her again (she lives a distance away) and it would be courteous of me to do so.


At the end of class right before I had to make the 100 mile trip back home at 8:30 pm in the dark in unfamiliar territory... my phone died.  I was a bit freaked.  Not only would the hubster be worried sick for 2 hours, but if something happened out in the middle of these podunk 55 mph highways, I'd be SOL.

Enter new friend... she (out of nothing but pure goodness of heart) GIVES me her car charger.  WHO DOES THAT???  She does!  I was so thankful and blown away that I have not stopped thinking of it.  It has somewhat restored my faith in humanity and I'd also like to thank her parents, cause they obviously did something right in raising her.

Thank you, New Friend.

A Little Ditty About BPD

As many of my loyal followers know (I'm sure there are sooooo many of you- haha), I have bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder.  Well anyway, I think most people know what bipolar disorder (BD) is to some extent, but I don't think as many people are aware of what borderline personality disorder (BPD) really is.

I found this interesting article through some social media circles I follow and I wanted to share a tidbit out of it that I find to be a big aspect to my personality and my BPD.

Well, first of all, here's a bit about common "symptoms of BPD."

"Characteristics of Borderline Personality Disorder. Is there someone in your life who has five or more of the following characteristics?

1. This person makes frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment.
2. Their life is filled with unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.
3. They have a persistently unstable self-image.
4. They are impulsive in two of the following areas that are potentially self-damaging (spending, sex, substance abuse, shoplifting, binge eating, reckless driving)
5. They threaten or make gestures toward suicidal behavior or self-mutilation (ex: cutting)
6. Their moods tend to be reactive and include a mixture of depression, anxiety, rage and despair, lasting from a few hours to a few days.
7. They have chronic feelings of emptiness
8. They respond with intense anger which may manifest in physical fights
9. They dissociate when under stress, which means they detach from a situation and don’t remember it later. Your memory of a particular incident may be very different than their memory of it.

Having five or more of these traits are indicators of a person whose personality fits the diagnostic criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). You may also see other attributes that are not part of the actual diagnostic code (DSM IV), but are common to the disorder. Many of these are related to sexual or physical abuse in early life. The person may suffer from deep shame which they are either consumed by or deny. Inside they feel worthless, isolated, empty, but will guard against exposing that inner truth to themselves or others"

First off, I want to point out that I was never abused in any way in early life, just wanted to clarify that!  Secondly, I only have 8 of these traits, so let's be thankful for that!  

Okay, so the main point I wanted to get to from the article, which I have found many similar studies on was about BPDs being able to "read people" very well.  I have always found that I had this knack, but never knew that it was so highly associated with BPD.  So here is the excerpt (from same article linked above) of interest on that: 

Some BPDs have an uncanny ability to read people so well that they can uncover the other person’s vulnerabilities. In Paul Mason’s book, “Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care About has Borderline Personality Disorder,” he describes this sensitivity as an “astute ability to identify and use social and nonverbal cues of others. BPDs can empathize well with others and often understand and respect how others feel, and they can use these skills to “see through others.” It is thought that many adults who were repeatedly physically and/or sexually abused as children developed these social and emotional antennae as a survival strategy. This helped them predict and therefore prepare themselves for what their abusers were about to do.”

I found this to be quite fascinating and I was so glad to have my feelings on this reaffirmed.  Isn't it an awesome feeling when you learn something is a well-known idea when you have had a hard time convincing people of it when they roll their eyes behind your back and think you're delusional?

Anyway, thank you for taking time to enlighten yourself on BPD.  I'd love to hear thoughts on this! 
 

Today I Am Thankful for...

I know that this is totally cliche, but I gotta throw this out there...  you know, toss my hat in the ring...

Today I am thankful for:

1. My husband: he is probably the most helpful guy I've ever met.  He does so much for me that it makes me feel lazy.  His love is unconditional and he tells me about 50 times a day.  He almost makes me believe that I'm beautiful, but he is the beautiful one on the inside and out.  He has never hesitated in his love for my children and he is one of the best dads I've ever seen.  This guy of mine, he is not afraid to do "girly" housework because he understands that we are a team and therefore should function as one.  He likes my cooking, he laughs at my jokes and although there are days that I would like to punch him in every place that it hurts, I wouldn't trade him for any other man on the planet!
    
2. My kids:  first of all, I have never seen a group of such good looking kids!  I have been known to say that obviously I can't create an ugly child.  I must have adorable oozing out my gene pool.   And of course they drive me nuts from time to time (who doesn't), but I do think they are pretty awesome.  A is so sweet to me when she wants to be and makes it clear that I am the center of her universe (unless she is).  She shows me unconditional love and reminds me so much of myself that I worry what the teenage years hold.  L is adorable in his innocence and sweetness.  He's so happy-go-lucky and says the most random off the wall things.  He is very loving and affectionate and it's a rare day when he shows his temper.  He does things like rinse his dishes in the sink and change the toilet paper roll.  And of course, Baby H... although he doesn't do much right now, he's still a great baby!  His smile melts my heart, he is clearly on his way to genius and each day he does something that is so cute it reminds me of what a great family I have and how blessed I am.



3. My parents:  although he grumbles about it immensely, my dad has been known to loan me a buck or two here and there when I am in dire need.  Of course I pay him back, but sometimes it may take me awhile.  My parents are always there to babysit even when I think we've worn out our welcome.  When I started the semester at work and realized the first day that the daycare was a nightmare, they quickly made it possible to alleviate some of my worries while I looked for a new option.  And of course I recently mentioned all the great things my mom does for me such as provide great friendship, listen to me complain and gossip with me like we are old biddies in a beauty parlor.



4. The regulars:  my health, having a roof over my head, a job that I love, the ability to have been in college for the majority of 12 years, food, friends, certain luxuries like a car, televisions, phones, blah blah and a partridge and a pear tree.  

I have a great many things to be thankful for this year and I'm sure many of you reading this do too- it doesn't do anyone any good to dwell on the negative, but we tend to.  Instead, especially on days like this, we should rejoice in all the great things that we do have.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

This year on my birthday...

So, it's another year, another birthday...

Since I have been an adult living on my own (like 12 years now)... I'm pretty sure I have cried on every single birthday.  It's not about getting old, it's just the realization that each year that goes by I am not where I want to be in life.  I don't like to think that it is my fault that this is true, but I have no one else to blame because I make all my choices in life, no one makes them for me.

I don't think I cried last year... but I can't remember- that was a whole year ago.

And I don't think it can all be chalked up to being bipolar either.  I just think that I overthink and so when I think about the things that I think about on my birthday, it really makes me think... and so I cry.

Anyway, I am writing this the Friday before because I probably won't feel like blogging on the day of.   But this year, although I am thankful for a great great great many things in my life, there are still some things that I had hoped would be different by now.

See you next year and I will update you on 2013's success or not.



On a more positive note!!  Happy birthday to my mother... she was given the greatest gift the day I was born... yep, painful labor and a 10 lb baby.  What more could a mother ask for?

And despite the years of extreme torture I put her through and our quite different views on thing, I would have to say that my mom is my best friend.  Whenever something happens good or bad, my first thought is that I have to tell my mom.  Even when I know that she has no interest in the subject (like when I called her Friday night to tell her about the new Twilight movie) she pretends to care, and that's mostly what I need.  Like I said, we have polar opposite views on many many things, but she has been an excellent role model for me in life and I aspire to be as respected as she is.  I have the greatest respect for my mom and thinks that she has done so much good with her life.  I can't thank her enough for all the wonderful things she has done for my family and I...

Happy birthday, Mom!!!

5 Movies I Will Never Get Tired of Watching

Although this is an absolutely pointless blog post, I do want to share with you guys the 5 movies that I could watch a million times (not consecutively) and never get tired of them.  About 10 years ago I would have said Babe and Lord of the Rings (the first one) because I fell asleep to them every night.  I don't watch either of them anymore...  also, I'm not going to bother with accuracy in regards to name spellings or anything, cause I don't care right now.

So, in no particular order, here are the 5 movies and a little bit about why I think they are so awesome!

1.  Anchorman

I am not always a fan of Will Ferrell, but he happens to be in two of these movies.  I think my favorite thing he has done other than these was when he did Alex Trebek in Celebrity Jeopardy skits on SNL.  The completely random and off the wall things that are said in Anchorman are just so stupid they are hilarious.  I am pretty dang stoked about Anchorman 2.  I think Paul Rudd is dreamy and the whole cast of the first one was fantastic.  Remember when Brick killed a guy?

2.  Bridesmaids

Although this is probably my last choice out of the 5, it's a doozy for mostly two reasons: Melissa McCarthy and the cute guy with the accent.  Again, McCarthy's off the wall, what in the world comments just make me giggle.  Did you know the guy she wanted on the plane is her husband in real life?  True story.

3.  The Other Guys

 Oh man, where to I begin?  Are you thinking what I'm thinking?  Aim for the bushes... this movie is so ridiculous it's ridiculous... and I love it.  Mark Wahlberg should only be allowed to do comedies.  It's one of those great thinks like with Robert DeNiro, Christopher Walken, Bruce Willis, Al Pacino... you are so used to them in serious roles that when they are in comedies it just blows your mind.  Michael Keaton's silliness was a gem too... and then the classic lines... you shot Derek Jeeter... he's a biracial angel!  Good times.

4.  Jack & Jill

I know, this one shocked me too!  I think I was bored one day and this was on, so I watched it.  I haven't found an Adam Sandler movie funny since I was 14, so this came out of left field that I thought it was so funny.  And the great thing about it is that my daughter loves watching it with me too.  I vow that one day I will have pets that I can name Poopsy and Pagogo.  I am using this photo because Johnny Depp has a great cameo where he is at a Lakers game with Al Pacino.  He's wearing a ridiculous Justin Bieber tee shirt and Jill asks him if he's from Duran Duran and he says yes.  I love me some Johnny Depp... but this movie was funny for many other reasons. 

5.  Bad Teacher

I think the first time I saw this I was really disappointed... but then the next 20 times I loved it!  For some reason, seeing Cameron Diaz play a money hungry deadbeat slacker is quite fun.  And her attitude about some things reminds me of myself.  I could never be quite so vicious, but still... and the chick who plays Amy Squirrel is great, Jason Siegel is great, Justin Timberlake is great, the dowdy teacher who wants to be cool is great  and the guy who plays the principal that I always confuse with Fred Willard is great.  The cast just makes the whole thing work out perfectly and the plot was actually pretty good as well.

The end.

Some Lucky Girl in 2028

...is going to get to marry my son.   Yes, he will be 30.  This is because he will have gone to school and established a good career before he gets mixed up with the likes of some she-devil girl!

I know I've mentioned how he drives me insane, but that is from a non-obsessive mom point of view.  But there are many ways that I can already tell he's going to be a great catch.  Those ways are:

1. He'd adorable.  I mean, you've seen pictures.  The kid looks fabulous!
2. He changes the roll of toilet paper when he uses up the last one- without being asked!
3. He likes to rinse his own plate and put it in the dishwasher.
4. He's affectionate.
5. He's hilarious.
6. He's always in a good mood.
7. He likes to hold the door open for people.
8. He offers to carry my bags for me.
9. He's a cuddler.
10. He likes babies.

Sure, he sometimes puts his shoes on the wrong feet, but I'm confident that by 30 he will get it figured out.  And not only will this girl be lucky that she gets to marry a guy as awesome as my son, but the icing on the cake is that she will get me as a mother-in-law!  I know how much of a big deal that is... believe me.  Sure, I might make her life hell from time to time because I'm always right, but I will also let her watch Golden Girls and gossip with me.  Of course, if I hate her, I will also be gossiping behind her back, but that's just how things go.

Again, you're welcome future daughter-in-law.

Honesty Really IS the Best Policy... Sometimes

I grew up being a huge liar.  Mostly it was little white lies, and initially I would blush and give myself away, but then I began to perfect the art so well that I think I convinced myself I was telling the truth sometimes.  When I met my ex-husband I had to my arse off quite a bit.  It's not that I felt like I had done something wrong, it's just that I know HE thought it was wrong.  I pride myself with having some sense, and I don't think I've ever done anything that was so stupid I can't get over it... except one big thing that I will always regret, but I thankfully can chalk that up to an extended manic episode.  Not that it makes what I did okay!  It's like people who cheat and say it was because they are drunk.  We all have a moral compass and if it was a good one, being drunk would never excuse any kind of behavior.  Clearly a lot of people lost their compasses somewhere in their childhood.  Well anyway, all of my crimes are victimless except for this one thing... and now you all wish you know what it was, but that is going to my grave my friends!

Anyway, so one of the biggest things I've learned in my life is that honesty is the best policy.  It started with my ex-husband.  When we met I lied lied lied to cover up things that he thought were wrong, but I didn't.  It was stupid, we were in high school, it was soooooo stupid.  But I didn't want him to get mad, so I would lie.  And then when he caught me lying, man did stuff hit the fan!  And he would always say, "I am more mad at you for lying than for what you did."  Then after that, I learned a lot from Judge Judy and she really did not like Liar Liar Pants on Fire..ers.   Then I started realizing, why should I have to lie?  I don't do anything BAD, so I shouldn't have to lie about it.  I have a pretty high opinion of myself (half the people I know probably think I'm a cocky bitch) and I don't think that there is anything I do that is malicious or BAD.  So why should I have to lie?   The only times I have felt like I needed to is when I knew the other person was super judgmental and I didn't wanna have to deal with the backlash.

With my current husband, he will say the same thing- he's more mad if I lie than for what I did.  Once again, I don't think I have wronged him in any way, but that is something he has to deal with.  I have passed this same theory on to other things in my life.  I find that I have a big issue with being lied to because it is SOOOOO disrespectful.  I am trying to teach my children about this, but of course they are afraid of getting "punished" when generally they are so bad at not being caught that they might as well tell the truth.

So I have this one student in my class this semester who breaks so many stereotypes.  I am so impressed and I truly think that his conscious decision to be honest, polite and respectful will get him far in life.  One day he clearly copied someone's vocab and did it in a hurry because he left off the ends of the definitions and it made no sense.  So I asked him about it and he said he did.  He had mentioned before that he doesn't like lying.  Anyway, so I have had an inkling about a few people in class who had been getting all their answers in the back of the book.  He is one of them.  He is pretty smart, so I think he does it because he wants to ensure good grades.  But then when review tests and mastery tests come up he doesn't know the material as well.  This chapter's answers were all varied, so when they came up with the exact "answers" from the back, it was totally obvious.  I took the 5 people in the hall one at a time and the generic response was, "I only look the ones up that stump me."  Well, it's not cheating, but I "lectured" them on how they don't learn from it.  Then I sent them on their way.  When I asked him, he flat out told me he does.  I greatly appreciated his honesty, gave him my short lecture and sent him on his way.  It just showed me how greatly I respect honesty in people.

To end this, I will quickly say that the only time I don't believe honesty is the best policy involves things you DON'T have to say.  For instance, if I think that someone is a complete loser living off the government and being lazy, I'm not gonna tell them... cause that would be malicious... it's true, but it would be malicious.

So, to sum up... maliciousness bad, honesty good.

The Orajel Incident: Made for TV

I love my husband and it is with love that I post this story, because it was right off a TV comedy and sooooooooooo new dad typical...

Upon realizing that Baby H's inconsolability was due to the emergence of his first tooth, it was quickly decided that if he was going to go to sleep (and thusly if we were to get any sleep) we needed some Baby Orajel ASAP!

I had just showered and was in my jammy jammers sitting on the couch with Baby H, playing some Bruno Mars (his favorite) to try to get him to sleep.  He just seemed so exhausted and would randomly start crying like he had been pinched hard.  Poor guy!!!

So, since I was not appropriately attired, David decided to run up the block to the grocery store.  It is a chain, not a mom and pop store, so I was 99.99% sure that they had Baby Orajel.

While Baby H is fussing, it seems like the minutes are taking hours.  Finally David arrives and pulls out.... Baby Orajel TOOTH PASTE!  I laugh in a, "ooooooooooooh, David" kind of way.  I let him know (very nicely, which is shocking for myself) that it was toothpaste.  He claims that they did not have any other kind of Baby Orajel there... he offered to drive to a different grocery store a couple miles away.  I just couldn't do it... I had to get dressed and go back to the first store to prove to him that they had it... they just HAD to!

So we go...

And...

They have it!  We return the toothpaste and pay the difference for the right stuff.  I give him the $hit-eating grin that you know you would have a hard time holding back if you were in my position too.

We get home, rub some on Baby H's gums and BOOM- magic in a tube and he's been asleep 9 hours and counting...

My husband is so cute... lol.

Book Review: Notes to My Future Husband by The Coquette

I'm all for humorous books... I'm all for humorous books that are written in a super easy to read format.  Well, this book is both.  And although that is the case, I'm not saying it's perfect by any means... I like it, I love it, and I hate it.  Here's why:

This book was written by a woman (who is apparently a popular advice columnist on The Daily) who is letting her future husband know the low down on what being with her will entail.  According to the book she is currently single and had (what I interpreted as) a bitter breakup the last guy around.

Well, I definitely agree on a lot of her feelings.  A big wedding is dumb, I love red velvet cake, bachelor/bachelorette parties are great, guys should have guy nights after marriage with friends and girls should too.  The author is definitely pro separate, yet together lives.  She is very modern woman in her theories and does not take any of that macho bull hockey from guys (so she says.)

But here's my beef.  First and foremost, she keeps referring to her future husband as "dude."  I flippin' hate that... a lot.  Secondly, she seems... not... um... how do I put this nicely... like she's destined to be single forever.   Granted, I do think that there are plenty of guys who would be okay with her forward thinking attitude.  I think people can appreciate her openness and candor, but honestly, I think she's got a lot of things that she seems committed to being absolutes.  I think there are guys who would like some say on some of those topics.  And she seems a little too bossy and "bitchy" (her words, not mine.)  I wish her good luck in finding a guy... but she made it clear she can go through life without one.

Definitely a cute read~ light hearted and witty.  I actually gave it to my husband to read some of it just so that he realized he could have had it much worse, lol.

I just hope that the author doesn't find me, because apparently she is not afraid to "cut a bitch."

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The F-Bomb Debacle

For the umpteenth time, I will clarify... I am not a prude.

I suppose I have a few conservative views on things, but if you know me, you know I'm not a prude.  I think I make my stances on many topics very clear, but this one has been making me think lately.

When I hear someone use profanity, the context is usually what either makes my jaw drop, makes my eyes pop, makes me cringe or I just go with the flow.  Here are a couple instances I am referring to.

1) Casual conversation.  If my close friends swear, it doesn't really bother me.  I know that just like saying like... I was like so mad... so like when we were outside... I'm like 99% positive that he is HIV positive.. it becomes a habit.  I don't fault them for it unless they are being loud in public around strangers... then I try to hide my face.

2) On the job.  I would never swear on the job.  My mama taught me better!  LOL.  I'm sure it matters what job it is.  For instance, I work with mostly freshmen in college and to me they are still young and impressionable.  Therefore I like to provide a profanity-free environment.  I think I'm fun and that they like me (so the suck ups say) and I can do that without swearing.  I know there are jobs where it's not taboo.  If you work with other adults, they can handle it.

3) Around children. Now this is where I lose the friends and make people hate me.  I really don't think you should swear around children of any age.  Being a role model is what shapes these little IDs into developing their SUUUUUUUPERego.  Unless you want your kid to be a potty mouth, keep your potty mouth zipped.  Let's have a little tact, folks.

I am not the anti-profanity preacher here.  I love language and its various uses, but I think profanity should be like exclamation points... emphatic, but if you use it too much it becomes pointless.  I can recall instances when someone has used profanity in front of me and it was so unexpected it rattled my cage a wee bit.  I had never heard it from that person before, so I was caught off guard.

I am not perfect.  But here's the thing... when I drop an F bomb, you know it's about to go down, Charlie Brown.  I have to be super angry to let that fly and I tend to only reserve this for my husband... because I don't want anyone else to think I'm a potty mouth.  I also occasionally let the SHIZ hit the fan when I forget something, stub my toe, etc.  If my kids have heard any word from me, it's probably that.

This little thought tidbit I am sharing with you probably takes root in my own upbringing.  As a child we were unable to even say the word "butt."  To do so was grounds for quite the verbal backlash.  Although as we got older we used potty words with our friends, we knew better than to use them at home.  I recall one time my sister was in high school and she told me to go to Hell.  I tattled on her and my dad informed me that it was a place, not a bad word.

So thank you to my conservative parents who taught me that it's only okay to use profanity when you are yelling at the TV during a football game.  I am pretty okay with this life lesson.

All I Want for Christmas is... Two Free Hands!!!

First and foremost, let me apologize to all my paraplegic readers... yes, I'm a wuss.

I do not like to be trapped... it's just one of those many things I don't like.  Trap me in a room, watch me go bat shizzzzz crazy.  Trap me in crummy relationship, watch me load up a uhaul by myself.  Trap me in a coffin underground with only a small supply of air to last me until a detective figures out all the clues in time to save my life... nuts.

So with that in mind, I hate being trapped on my fanny holding a baby 24/7 or trapped with one hand available to do anything... dishes, cleaning... I am not your old fashioned lady who is okay with having a child strapped to her hip.  My worst frustration is not being able to type with two hands.  Between trying to keep up with this blog, blogging for school, doing my school assignments, responding to the neverending emails in my inbox or trying to grade papers and enter the grades onto the computer... I need both hands!  Hunting and pecking just doesn't fly.

My two hand options are- go into work early or stay late so I can type or get up super early/stay up late so I can have two hands free.  But then comes the pick and choose time of what do I need to do more with those two free hands?  Should I clean, fold laundry, strangle someone or use the computer?

While you ponder that, I'll get back to you.  Baby H just woke up and now I have no hands available.

My Daughter Drives Me Crazy!!!

If you recall, 8 months ago I similarly posted that my son drives me crazy.  Oh, how the tables have turned.  My son will be 5 in January and he is a sweet and easy-going little boy.  He loves preschool, he stays in bed all night and he pretty much agrees to anything you ask him to do.  I like to think of him as an angel now, lol.

My daughter, however, is another story...

Once again, children are a gift from God, blah blah blah.  Now that I got that formality out of the way, let me tell you about my mini-me.  She will be 7 in December, but I'm pretty sure she has aged a decade in the past year.  The attitude!!!  Here's my biggest beefs with this child:

1. Socks.  Every fourth school day she has P.E.  Normally she wears flip flops, sandals or slip on shoes and no socks.  On P.E. day she has to wear sneakers and socks.  She complains about it EVERY TIME.  Then she will spend a good 10 minutes fiddling with the seams until my head explodes or I put her shoes on and drag her out the door.  And then with the shoes she spends another 10 minutes messing with the velcro straps.  Now, I did not like wearing shoes and socks when I was little (still don't), but I don't recall throwing a fit about it when I had to.  I just took them off as soon as I got home.
2. Arguing.  She argues about EVERYTHING.  And I mean Ev...er...y...THING.  You tell her the sky is blue and she will tell you that it's actually gray.  So when I tell her to put her socks on for P.E. day she will try to tell me that she really doesn't need socks and she can wear the sneakers without them.  If we are running late she will try to tell me that maybe if her brother went to a different school we wouldn't be late.  Very contrary.
3. She is such a ... meaniehead.  This little girl can be vicious.  It's amazing that someone so young can read people and exploit their weaknesses.  She knows what buttons to push and boy does she!  She doesn't really do this much with me, but she does it with pretty much everyone else.  She can be so mean to her brother.  Then it boggles my mind when she is mean to her friends because I would think she would want to keep them as friends.  I wouldn't want to play with her!
4. She picks on her brother.  As mentioned above, she is super mean to L.  Some days when she's mad she takes all her frustration out on him and makes him cry on a regular basis.  She will tell him he can't come in her room and when her friends are over she will tell them to be mean to him too.  Poor little guy looks up to her and loves her so much and that's what he gets in return.

 These are just the highlights.  I know that she has A LOT of similar characteristics to myself.  David even says she makes the same faces as I do.  Her attitude doesn't phase me, because I know she's trying to get a rise.  But some people can't let it go and have to react about everything.  And it's not about discipline, because I think I do a very good job disciplining my kids.  I don't know why she is such a grumpy gus.  I thought this attitude was reserved for teenagers.  It bums me out because she is so smart and funny and it's great when she shows her good side.  Sometimes she says things that are very profound and she is very wise for her age.

I'm wondering if this post will get the same kind of reaction as when I wrote about my son.  Are girls actually harder to raise than boys?  I've always thought it was the opposite.  I know as teenagers girls can be absolute witches, but I've met some boys that aren't very nice to their parents as teenagers either.

Who's in the same boat here?

The Slackery Cometh

To my readers and business affiliates:

I will apologize for the recent "slacking" and probably forthcoming as well.  Between work stuff, school stuff and communication stuff, I don't have a lot of time for internet usage.  My 3 month old is attached at the hip, which makes anything other than hunting and pecking virtually impossible.  I have to use my sparse times before I start teaching and after my classes are done for the day to get as much done as possible.

I have a lot to say, just no time to say it!!  Plus we just moved, so I have been using that baby napping time to try to put stuff away.

I will try to churn some pithy words out soon!

Don't forget about me!!

"Overwhelmed" is profanity.

whelm verb: to submerge, engulf

overwhelm verb (used with object) 

1. to overcome completely in mind or feeling: overwhelmed by remorse.

2. to load, heap, treat, or address with an overpowering or excessive amount of anything

I have an extreme abhorrence for the word "overwhelmed" but mainly when people try to use it in regards to me.  I had one of the top 5 worst experiences in my life happen about 3 years ago in grad school and a certain pompous meanie face with total social ineptitude had the gall to say that I might be "overwhelmed" with my work load and personal life.  I was livid!  And of course the other aspects of that incident left me wondering about humanity and how on earth people could be so vicious and unfeeling blows my mind.

Well the other day my new therapist used the word "overwhelmed," but in a question as in, "do you feel overwhelmed and is that causing...?"  And of course the answer is no.  I don't feel overwhelmed.  She wasn't saying it in a mean or accusing or negative way, so I won't fault her for that.

Although I think that people may assume I am overwhelmed, whether from my behavior, irritability, throwing things at walls, no, I am not overwhelmed.  I would never take on more than I can handle.  In fact, I thrive on being busy.  Yes, some days I want to just bum it out, but I can't stand the thought of lying in bed all day, sitting around in my pajamas all day, watching tv all day... maybe for the first part of the day I can sit and chill, but that's about it.  My mind begins to flood with the things that I could be doing but I am not.  

I work, but not full time.  I am taking 3 grad classes right now, but I should have been finished two years ago.  I have 3 kids, but they are pretty great kids and I have a wonderful husband who helps me immensely.  Sure I get a bit frustrated when I am inundated with questions and ideas thrown at me in a 30 second period of time.  Sure I get set off by little things time to time, but that has to do with my mental illnesses and not because I am completely overwhelmed.

So if you think I am, I am not.  I am as busy as I want to be.  Life is short and you gotta pack as much of it as you can and right now I think there are many other things in life I could be doing.  

Oh, and I've been having a great physical issue with having a complete lack of energy and my psychiatrist is an idiot (as they all seem to be so far) and she just keeps throwing wacky meds at me to try and help me out.  

But I'm not overwhelmed.

My Wedding Day Was Ghetto Fantastic

I like to think of myself as a pretty laid back person.  And I think expensive weddings (or weddings in general) are a big stinkin' waste of money.  A dress you can only wear once?  Flowers that die?  Releasing doves, a 20 person orchestra...?  What is the point?  Isn't the reason people get married because they are in love and want to make that commitment?

Well, that brings me to yesterday.  David has been harassing me to marry him for quite awhile now and although I have a distaste in my mouth when I say the word "marriage" I thought- yeah, why not?  I love him, we have a baby together and I could see myself being fond of him for quite some time.  But neither of us wanted to waste money on a fancy shmancy wedding, let alone expect our parents to pay a dime!  (At least David SAID he didn't want a wedding, but I secretly think he did.)

Come to find out that an awesome, fantastic friend is ordained.  She agreed to marry us, I let David pick the date, we met for lunch yesterday and boom- we were married.  I asked a friend to be a witness and our waitress was the other witness.  We did spend a pretty penny on rings, but David insisted on that and since he is Mr. Moneybags, I could not argue against it.

Per our officiant's suggestion, we stopped at a local Casey's and bought some Miller High Life to toast because apparently it is the "champagne of beers."  I don't drink beer, but I did have some for the toast.

Our moms knew of the date (surprisingly both remembered) and whomever they squealed to knew.  Otherwise I was most stoked about surprising people by putting it on Facebook.  I don't plan to actually tell anyone else, I will let them find out on their own.  Oh, I did tell my kids and my ex-husband who was watching the kids for me.  (The kids have known for awhile.)

And there you have it- I am now the other half... the old ball and chain... an honest woman.  I am sorry to all those who were dying to marry me, but you will have to wait and see if this marriage lasts.  I am kinda hoping it will.  David is a pretty decent fellow and he thinks I'm awesome, which is a pretty good quality in a spouse.

I like to think that my whole wedding was purposefully and wonderfully tacky as opposed to those weddings that are meant to be fancy and are actually trashy because the people are... well, trash.  And I was purposely mocking those people who think that a wedding should cost thousands of dollars out of their parents' pockets... like they don't have better things to do with their money.

I will have a reception sometime in the near future, though, cause everyone knows that is the best part.  But you can be sure it will be wonderfully cheap as well- but maybe not too cheap.

PS An hour after getting married, my car was parked on the street next to my friend's house.  She suggested we park on the less busy side.  Some lady backed into our car and we had to get a police report.  Luckily it's still drivable, but it just added to our exciting day!

Tuesday Musings...

(I teach remedial English at a community college.)

Each semester I get a new group of students, which brings a new batch of personalities and background stories.  It's not like elementary teachers who are occasionally sad to see their students go each year- I'm more than happy for them to go bye-bye because it means I get a break and get to meet new students next semester. 

This semester I have a decent sized group and by the 4th day I had all their names memorized (yet some of them still pronounce my  name wrong.)  I always have an assignment the first day where the students have to give me a short bio about what they think I should know about them.

I am very impressed because this semester and last fall I have had three students in particular who are single moms and they work harder at my class than most of the other students.  They each have more than one.  It impressed me because I hear so many moms say that they can't go back to school or they can't finish school because they have children at home.  One of the most important things I think that a mother can teach her child is that you don't have to give up on life to become a parent.  It's okay to devote a crap ton of time to your children, but you don't have to give up on what makes you happy or your dreams.

I myself finished my bachelor's degree when my daughter was 3 and my son was 1.  Currently I am teaching and taking 3 grad classes so I can finish what little I have left of my MA.  Right now my children are 6,4 and two months.  I'm not gloating or trying to talk myself up, but I'm proof that your kids are not in the way of school.  Just like these three girls I'm referring to are achieving their goals.  I love seeing their drive and hearing them say that they are doing it to give their children better lives.  In a world where it's so easy to live off the government and not work, it's great to see young girls who want more for themselves and don't just give up or become lazy.

Random off topic musing: It bugs me when I make a joke and some of my students don't laugh or smile.  I think I have three students who have yet to crack a smile... it irks me... are they robots or do they think all teachers are nerds?

Another Awful Daycare Experience

I wrote a couple years back about a bad daycare that my kids were going to.

Well, I just had another unfortunate experience yesterday.  They is a daycare on campus at the college I teach at.  Although it is not affiliated with the school (they rent the space), it is still in the school.  It is very pricy, but it was convenient for me to send my son to last year.  I never had a problem with L going- he liked it, he didn't throw a fit going and there seemed to be no problem.  This year, L will be going to preschool elsewhere, but I needed daycare for Baby H.  I only teach one class Mon-Thurs and it lasts an hour, so I figured having H go to the daycare wouldn't be a big deal.  He was only going to have to go on Mondays and Wednesdays because I have family caring for him the other two days.  Of course, it's ridiculous to pay for a full day when he's only going an hour, but the convenience to me was worth it.

As you may or may not know, I used to be a stay at home mom while earning my bachelor degree online.  A didn't go to daycare for the first time until she was 2.5.  L was 6 months and it was so hard because he cried every day when I dropped him off.  It was only a couple days a week, but it was still difficult.  You think that no one can take care of your children as well as you can (of course they can't.)  So, the idea of Baby H going to a daycare at 2 months was very scary to me, but like I said, I didn't think two hours a week would be that bad.

I was wrong.  When I got there to drop H off, there were two women working with 8 babies that looked like they ranged in age from 3 months-16 months.  There were some screaming, a baby in a swing crying, it was chaos.  I know that the state licensed facilities are only allowed to have 4 babies per one adult, so it wasn't as though they were doing something illegal and had "too many" babies there at one time.  I felt bad leaving him and since I was early, I figured that I would feed him a bottle and rock him, hoping he'd fall asleep.  I stayed as long as I could, but he wasn't asleep so I put him in a swing.

Fast forward until I got back.  There was one woman eating in a corner.  The other was spoon feeding one child at the table. H was in the same swing as when I had left, but was crying so much his voice was hoarse.  He was sweaty and he had puke on his clothes.  His bottle hadn't moved from where I left it.  I picked him up, got his stuff and left.  When I got to the car I held him until he calmed down and I cried. 

There is absolutely NO WAY he is going back.  I would rather quit my job than send him back to that place.  Luckily I have found other arrangements that I am much more comfortable with as it is someone I know who has watched L before.  I had David call the daycare and tell them neither of my kids would be returning.  I just can't believe that people can sit back while babies cry and scream!  I care too much about my children to force them into a situation like that.

My poor baby...

The Things I Can't Let Go Of

As some of my readers may or may not know, I have bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder.  (I've been diagnosed with both by several qualified individuals in different towns/facilities, so if you're in denial about this, way to be unsupportive and you shouldn't read my blogs if you're such a jerkwad.)

Anyway, if you don't know what either are, there's a thing called wikipedia, so I'm not going into the details.

So, back to the point of this blog.  I have a really hard time sharing my feelings with anyone other than my therapist.  This is for two reasons: my therapist gets paid not to judge me and no one makes me feel better, so what's the point.

Throughout my life there have been a few things that I can't let go of.  I know they say forgive and forget, and I always forgive, but I can't forget.  And by "forgive" in some of those instances I carry a grudge, but I don't act on that grudge or refuse to talk to someone for it.  If that were the case, I'd never talk to anyone!  I've always had the philosophy that I will respect someone unconditionally until they do me wrong.  Unfortunately right now, that pretty much just includes my boss- until he fires me.

Here's a list of things that I've never been able to let go of:

1) My parents letting some idiot with a doctor degree out of a Cracker Jack box put me on Paxil.  This guy was the biggest moron known to man and I kinda wish karma would hunt him down.  How could anyone let him be responsible for the mental health of people who deserved better care??  Anyway, the moron misdiagnosed me after meeting me for 5 minutes.  Then he ended up putting me on Paxil and didn't inform me of any side effects.  My parents ridiculously thought I had an eating disorder and I'm sure they conspired with him about the fact that Paxil makes people blow up like the Hindenburg.  My metabolism went from spectacular to non-existent and I've had to work hard to not be 400 lbs for over a decade!

2) My crappy "friend."  Well, most of friends are/have been crappy in that they could care less whether I was alive or dead, but this one in particular has bugged me the most.  I was there for her when she'd call me crying in the middle of the night.  I was there for her two or three times when she moved out- I even helped her move all her stuff once!  I was there for her when she had no money and I bought her groceries for her kids- even though I didn't have money myself!  I've been there for her for so many things even when no one else was.  Well, now she doesn't have anything to do with me.  I'm not 100% sure why... if I had to guess, it's cause a couple years ago she thought I was interested in this jerk that she had the hots for... and I wasn't.  I don't like jerks- especially not ones that are riddled with STDs.  Other than that, I'm not really aware of what I could have done to her personally that was so atrocious.

3) These guys:
     guy a- lied to me and told me he deleted his exes number and then actually put it in as someone else's number and I only found out cause I was TAKING CARE OF HIM after he had his wisdom teeth removed and his phone kept going off so I thought it might be his parents checking on him.  Yeah... that happened.
     guy b- ripped me a new one for "seeing other guys" when we weren't even a couple, but told his ex on New Year's Eve that he loved her.  (Have I mentioned how much people suck?)
     guys c/d- told me he didn't want to be with me anymore, which I handled with pretty good tact, if I do say so myself.  The part that got to me was that he didn't tell me why.  I hate being rejected cause I'm a pretty big fan of myself (of what's on the inside anyway.)
     guy e- thinks I cheated on him and I never did!  I am totally willing to accept when I do something wrong and people find out, but I don't like being accused of something I didn't do!  But because his moronic friends insisted that it didn't make sense that I DIDN'T cheat, he believed it.  Soooo... ugh.

4) Guilt: I don't often feel guilt, but the few things that have stuck with me that I've felt guilty about- I can't let go of.  I'm pretty sure there was this time my dad went to Chicago and brought us all back tee shirts.  I threw a fit and he ended up buying me a toy.  I feel guilty that I was such a brat about that.  When my mom buys me gifts, if I don't like them- I feel guilty about that.  When I used this person and never talked to them again- I feel guilty about that.

5) This one thing that involved money that I felt I was entitled to: I can't go into details on this one because I'd get reamed up and down the Mississippi, but there was this incident that involved something that was done for my three siblings and wasn't done for me and the lame excuse for why not was essentially that I was a horrible person and didn't deserve it.  It's not about not getting the money (that would be pretty bratty of me), it's about the excuse for why I didn't.

Okay, this list is getting long and I have school work to do.  Don't get yourself confused and think these are the only thing in life that have bothered me... I mean come on, I don't trust anyone, I don't know what affection is and I get angry at the drop of a hat... so if you think nothing bothers me... you're so wrong it's wrong.  These are just a handful of things that I needed to get off my chest and I don't get to see my new therapist until September.  I hope you enjoyed my misery!

50 Million Questions is 49,999,999 Too Many

I've always had this theory that parents should always answer their kids' questions unless they are super inappropriate.  How will children learn if no one gives them answers?  They are curious beings with thirsts for knowledge and answers to life's questions...

That being said, can I draw the line at 50 million questions a day?  I heard a statistic on the radio (it was a trivia question) that asked what a 4 year old does X amount of times per day?  (Couldn't remember the exact number.)  Immediately I thought- ask questions!  I didn't call in cause I was driving, but it was the right answer.  I looked up the statistic and according to 10 Facts About.com, 4 year olds ask an average of 437 questions a day.  I'm not sure how that's possible, but at times it feels like it.  When I googled to find this answer, the top gazillion search results were "how many times a day does a 3 year old, 4 year old, 5 year old, 6 year old... ask questions?"  So apparently it's a common theme.  BUT, my 4 year old is for once not the child I'm referring to!!!

My 6 year old daughter has been driving me bat $hit with how many questions she asks me every day... all day... I can't take a step in any direction with her ask me about everything from "why do babies cry" to "what makes it so hot out" to "is there butter on this bread" to "can I go see if so and so is home?"  It's not just questions about things she's curious about learning, it's questions about everything.  Plus she's going through a stage where she argues with everything, so if she asks you something and doesn't like your response she will argue. 

I'm sure it has something to do with not being at school during the summer and having nothing to stimulate her brain.  I've told her a million times that she would know all these answers if she would read.  Then she tells me she hates to read (which I don't get).  But when she asks me how I know so much, I always say because I liked to read and I listened.

So, going against my beliefs, I've gotten to the point where I beg her to stop asking me so many questions.  I feel bad, but really... her last question might be, "why did they put mommy in a straight jacket and to that building with padded walls?"

Seriously.

Bitter Pills Are the Hardest to Swallow

Here I'm going to go again, making sweeping generalizations... but stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason, right?

Okay, so neither of these are new ideas, but I don't think I've vented about them yet and I wouldn't be me if I didn't complain about something!  So here's my recent beef with men, but more importantly dads who live with moms.

1) New babies: when you are having your first child, it's such an exciting time filled with anticipation and thoughts of how your life is going to change.  Of course everyone involved knows that it's going to be a big responsibility, but apparently most men think that responsibility ends at bedtime.  Now I'm not knocking anyone per say, but I've I've had kids with oodles of guys... okay, that's not true.  Either way, before the first child is born comes the statement, "oh, I'll get up with them at night.  I hear every noise and whether you get up or not, I'll get up too."  Not only have I heard this from two different men, but I've established from speaking to other women that this is a common lie that they hear.  Maybe the intent actually was there, but regardless, it soooooooo doesn't happen.

If you take 6 weeks off work, guaranteed you will hear this more than once, "but I have to get up for work in the morning."  If you stay at home after 6 weeks, expect to hear this until your child graduates from high school.  If you go back to work full-time after 6 weeks, expect to hear, "but I have to get up for work earlier than you do."  You'll never win this argument.  They just have it ingrained in their minds that somehow you are just not as deserving of a restful night's sleep as they are.  Then there's the promise of a nap when they get home, but because you have so many other things to do and it's not nighttime, that's easier said than done- plus if you hear the baby cry once, you're up.  What's the solution, you ask?  Well, how about if you're a dad, you get up with your kid once in awhile and let the mom sleep.  No?  Oh, okay then. 

Now as I said, this is not every man.  There are those lucky duck women who net themselves a guy who actually ENJOYS common human decency.  I could be wrong (don't think I am) but I'm pretty sure my dad was the one who go up with us every night when we were babies and he and my mom worked the same hours.

2) I just thought I'd throw this one out there because it's the same vain of topics.  You know how the truth always comes out when people are angry?  (Not me, I speak the truth all the time cause I'm not worried about hurting people's feelings.)  If you are a woman who works part-time or no-time, expect your man to say that you don't work and therefore you shouldn't expect his help around the house.  Of course when he's in a good mood he will say that he knows you do a lot and you work hard... but the first time you ask him to do the dishes and he really doesn't want to... be prepared for his true feelings come out.

Have you experienced either of these things or should I hate you for having a one in a million kinda guy?

My Theory About This Guy at WalMart

So Friday I was in WalMart. 

It's no fresh news that often you come across some "interesting" people there.  Of course in my hometown the most I usually scoff at are the people cussing out their children loudly in the store- talk about trashy!  But nothing so interesting as what you see on People of WalMart.  (If you've never checked out the site, you're really missing out on some good laughs!)

Okay, so anyway, I was in WalMart in my hometown on Friday.  I was just casually strolling towards the cat food aisle and was passing the hair care aisle when I noticed a gentleman that looked to be either a rough late 30s or in his 40s.  Well, he was using a hairbrush to brush his hair and then I saw him put said brush back on the shelf.  His hair appeared to be somewhat greasy, but I wasn't going to get close enough to look.

First thing that came to mind was, "totally gross."  Second thing that came to mind is that I'm glad I've had the same awesome hairbrush since the 80s so I don't have to worry about buying a new one that has been slightly used.

So I'm thinking that maybe what happened was that this guy had a hot date and decided to use the WalMart facilities to get ready.  Maybe he washed up in the bathroom, went to the deodorant aisle to manage his body odor (assuming he had some), stopped by the cologne and spritzed himself and who knows- maybe he tested out some toothpaste while he was at it.

Of course, this is all just hypothetical.  But what a great story to tell his future grandkids if he was in fact going out on a hot date.

Wordless Wednesday: My New Addition Edition

C-Section After Vaginal Birth

So I know there's a such thing as a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), but I've never heard too much about a CAVB- I don't know if that's a real term, but I'm assuming that would be a cesarean after vaginal birth.  Well, having now been in that boat, I thought I'd write about my experience with it.  It goes along the lines of a blog post I read called "10 Things I Wish Somebody Had Told Me About C-Sections."  (I did not experience everything she mentioned.) You can google until your fingers fall off about what a c-section is like, but you're not likely to get the full picture.  And I got feedback about them from several friends before mine so that I could have reassurance it wasn't going to be the worst thing ever.

Well... it was the worst thing ever!  Let me preface by telling you again that this was a cesarean after having two children vaginally.  Now, I know that many women tear and I've heard the horror stories of vaginal birth where women have torn an unGodly amount and couldn't walk or sit for weeks.  I know many women have pushed for so long they ended up with a c-section in the end.  So yes, I know there are a lot of horror stories with vaginal birth.  I did not have that problem.  Although my labor with my first two was extremely long, I didn't tear with either and the healing process was extremely fast.  I was up an hour after birth.  With my first, I took a bath and was excited at being able to shave my thighs because I could actually see them!  With  my second, I opted for a shower.  Upon coming home, I was pretty much back to most normal activities right away.  In fact, with my second, I was pulling up carpeting a week after birth.

Okay, so that's my preface.  Vaginal birth doesn't scare me and I would never hesitate in my decision to have another child if it was solely based on the birth itself.  Unfortunately, now that has completely changed.

The only part of the c-section that wasn't horrible was the surgery itself.  I was told to arrive at the hospital at 5 am and they prep you, get your IV in, get you on fluids, fill out paperwork, have nurses talk to you about what's going to happen during the surgery and by the time 8am rolled around I was ready to go.  You are given a spinal (like an epidural, but it's a one time injection instead of having you hooked up to a tube in your back.)  Once the doctor establishes it has kicked in, he starts cutting.  The whole process is very quick and boom, there's your baby!  Of course my son was big and the doctor needed assistance getting him out by way of some guy pushing extremely hard on my ribs and stomach, but since I was numb it was just uncomfortable.

So boom, there's the surgery.  They cut you open, sew you up, show you the baby and then you go to recovery for 20 minutes, then on to your room.  That's when the hell begins.  You are pretty much bound to that bed for the next 8-12 hours.  You're hooked up to a pulse monitor, blood pressure monitor, catheter, pressure boots and IV.  You can't move, you can't feel a lot from the chest down.  So, every so often you have nurses come in and change your pad, press on your stomach to check your uterus and clean you down there- very humiliating if you don't like being completely helpless.

After about 8 hours I asked if I could try to get up.  I got to enjoy a whole standing up, turning around and sitting in a chair two inches from my bed.  At 2:15 am the catheter was removed (thank God.)  At 8:30 the next day the IV was removed after I insisted they had promised it was only in for 24 hours.  Next came the bp cuff, heart monitor and finally the boots- mainly because I kept kicking them off.

You can barely move, I couldn't stand up straight, the furniture and bed in the hospital room are so uncomfortable that there was nothing I could do to not be in pain.  In fact, the pain in my rear from sitting on the hard furniture was at times worse than the c-section pain!  The nurses are in and out all night, you can't sleep because of the discomfort... worse hospitalization ever.

Now fast forward to being home.  You're not allowed to drive until you can successfully press the brake and gas pedal and turn your body to see behind you.  You're not allowed to pick anything up over the weight of your baby.  So pretty much, I'm bound to my house and can't even do much there.  I'm a stomach sleeper, but I'm stuck sleeping on my back for at least 3 weeks.  I'm constantly worried about my incision splitting, so I avoid doing too much.  Although today is the sixth day after my surgery, I haven't had any pain medication since day 4 and that was only once.  It is really hard to stand or get off my bed, but as long as you don't do it quickly, it's tolerable.  Then there's the swelling!!  Because of the 4 bags of fluids they give you (pitocin and something else), you swell from the knees down.  And this isn't mild swelling, this is painful, I think I have elephantitis swelling.  My feet hurt worse than the c-section area!  It hurts to wiggle my toes and my legs feel like hard plastic that can't be budged.

Well, there you have it.  If something else awful comes up, I'll be sure to share, but I think I've highlighted the things that I have been most upset to find out.  Most doctors in smaller towns will not perform VBACs and I asked my doctor if it made a difference that I only had to have one because my son was breech.  He said no, once you have one, that's it.  So, if I ever decided I wanted another child, I'd have the option of going through another hellacious cesarean or driving 90 miles to have a doctor who will allow a VBAC.  Of course, I'm not even close to making that decision anytime soon, it's just unfortunate that I'd have to.

Hopefully I haven't completely terrified you, but I feel honesty is what women want in medical situations!

Childhood Memories: Cheese Thief Edition

This childhood memory will probably be highly disputed due to its controversial nature...

Okay, to preface the memory, I need to point out that we were very well fed as children and never starved.  Aside from breakfast, lunch and dinner, if we wanted a snack or dessert, we had to ask permission to eat something and it wasn't guaranteed approval.  I can only imagine what kind of costs went into feeding a family of 6!  So, it is understandable that occasionally the more "expensive" items would be missed if they disappeared.

Now onto the memory.  From the best of my recollection (because I think I had to have been like 4 or 5 or something) the incident started because someone had opened a block of cheese and eaten it.  I don't remember if the whole block of cheese was eaten and the evidence was found in the trash can or if someone had opened the block of cheese and helped themselves.  Well, the fact that someone had eaten cheese without permission was a big no-no.  (If you are accustomed to buying blocks of cheese, you know they aren't cheap.)  So, an interrogation process was lead in order to find the culprit.  Apparently my three siblings all denied the allegations, as did I.  I was 100% sure I was innocent as I knew that I had not partaken in the disappearance of the cheese.

Well, here's where the travesty lies.   Apparently since everyone denied it, it was assumed that I was the guilty party.  I was the youngest, so maybe it was thought that the older children would have no reason to lie about something so trivial.  Despite my protests, I was sent to my room and told I would remain there until I confessed.  Imagine how much this crushed my faith in humanity.  I can understand how inmates feel that are incarcerated, but innocent.  Instead of mulling over a confession, I was sitting there wondering why I was being punished- because mind you, none of my three siblings were being punished because my parents assumed it was me.

Fast forward until I was allowed out of my room.  This is where the rest of the memory gets mildly fuzzy.  I BELIEVE that someone eventually confessed and that's why I was allowed out.  But, this doesn't seem too likely because I doubt any of them felt too guilty that I was getting punished.  So, maybe they let me out because they figured I'd been punished enough had I actually been the perpetrator.  Either way, that's all I remember happening from the event.  I learned that the world is not fair and that I can't expect people to apologize because no one did.  I'm sure to this day (if my parents thought this was a real memory) that they think I was the one who ate the cheese.