It doesn't really matter.
I've had a few glasses of wine and now have decided to watch 50 Shades of Grey...Gray...shit. I should probably know that.
Here are my thoughts.
1. Ha! Anastasia Steele just bit her lip! Is Dakota Johnson trying to make this a Twilight parody already? Is that an homage to Kristin Stewart's excellent lip biting skills?
2. What's my Google password? I want to write a blog entry...or live tweet...but I haven't written a blog entry in a long time so I'll do that but I can't remember my password...there...changed it. Hope I can remember it tomorrow!
3. Oh look, everyone who works at Grey (Gray?) House is dressed in...you guessed it...GRAY. Fucking fantastic. I get it. Grey.Gray. I don't know if I can make it through this movie.
4. OOps...Anastasia fell into his office. I get it. She didn't do anything really embarrassing, though. She should have farted really loud when she fell...or started crying...then a snot bubble...not that anything like that has ever happened to me.
5.Oh I exercise Control in all things Miss Steele...uh...okay...
6. Is Christian Grey supposed to be Donald Trump?
7. If a guy tells you he "enjoys various physical pursuits" when you ask what he does for fun he definitely hunts people for sport.
8.Oh, now he walked around the desk and asked her if she has an actual question!
9. Are you GAY? ARE YOU KIDDING?
10. Oh, hot blonde assistant just interrupted...now he has made it known that he wants more Steele and wants to know about her literary preferences? Whew! HAWT!
11. Now he offered her an internship! But she says she's not hot enough...and asked her if she got everything she needed...
12. LOL she walks outside in the rain and instantly gets DRENCHED and is breathless...not a lot of mystery as to what is going on there.
13. She describes him as "clean" to her room mate. Weird. Roommate knows Anastasia wants to bone Christian.
14. 27 years old! WTF! No way.
15. Ooh, she's rubbing the Grey pencil on her lips!!!!
16. WTF the guy who plays not-Jacob (art show guy-Jose) has a receeding hairline and looks at least 15 years older than her.
17. She works in a hardware store...and Christian Grey appears. oh, of course he wants cable ties, rope and tape. probably a shovel and tarp. Girls love shady billionaires and love making jokes about being a serial killer.
18. This is a creepy interaction. She recommends coveralls to protect his clothes...and he suggests not wearing clothes. If someone said that to me at work I would barf all over them.
19. Oh, it's a photo shoot and the gangs all here! He keeps staring at her! Wants to take her for coffee! Definitely doesn't want to skin her and wear her skin like a suit!
20. Why am I watching this? It's horrible.
21. I fucking hate this guy "I'm used to getting my own way." Fuck you, asshat.
22. Oh, Anastasia considers herself a romantic. I guess that means that romantics like creepy assholes who want to wear their skin.
23. "I'm not the man for you" Oh, yeah, you're right. You're a creep. KBye.
24. WOWWWWEEEEE First edition books from you're creepy coffee date who you just helped pick out MURDER TOOLS! WTF is wrong with you, Anastasia?
25. Waiting in line for the ladies room is the worst. How old is her crappy ass phone? He has an IPhone and she has a StarTac? She's drunk dialing him...he's asking weird about her drinking. But he's drinking wine...DUDE YOU WENT OUT FOR COFFEE. She is not your girlfriend. He traced her call? This should really be a horror movie! This is terrifying!
26. Lol. Jose tried to kiss her. She said no. She should have said "No way, Jose." I would have.
27. Oh, look! She spent the night in his apartment and didn't wake up tied to a post with knives shoved in her body.
28. "Necrophilia's not my thing" when she asks if he raped her unconscious body.
29. "If you were mine you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week" then he bites her toast. You never bite my toast and certainly never threaten butt pain but definitely don't take my food.
30. "My tastes are very singular" "Enlighten me, then" reminds me of a conversation I had about cheesecake once.
31. "I'm not going to touch you-not until I have your written consent" Um....what?
32. "Fuck the paperwork" I hear you, Christian, I hate paperwork, too.
33. "Laters, baby?" What is that? She is an ENGLISH major! How could she let that go?
34. Meanwhile, back at the hardware store... she gets picked up by the way hunkier chauffeur who hasn't threatened to bite her or make her butt hurt or eaten her toast.
35. Now we're in a helicopter. Oh yeah, move that joystick, Christian...
36. Now we're in his penthouse apartment. ...Aaaaand he's making her sign a non-disclosure agreement...totally normal for a first date.
37. He doesn't make love. You know what he does. He fucks.
38. His playroom.
39. He has a really nice couch in there, though.
40. Every good romance really starts with stringent contract negotiations.
41. Oh fuck...she's still a virgin. Did he really just ask her if she's done "other things?"
42. uh...so now they're having sex because he wants her first experience to not be with whips? I'm still creeped out by this whole thing. He's playing the piano now! Now they're going to hump again.
43. Now it's morning and she's wearing his shirt, a messy bun and making pancakes. k.
44.Oh jesus. Mom's name is Grace Grey? This is infuriating.
45. ANASTASIA YOUR ROOM HAS A MURAL WITH A BIRD IN A CAGE! GET A CLUE!
46. "Be my submissive I will be devoted to you." Oh, okay. Totally a normal convo.
47. He pulls off onto a deserted road "Let's go for a walk" um...NO.
48. NO MORE WITH THE LATERS BABY!
49. The roommate can smell the sex on her. Girls can do that.
50. They're DM-ing. Do you think they're Facebook friends?
51. Are we really going to read a contract now? Here's the rundown:
We fuck when and where I want.
You eat and exercise when I think it's okay.
I will tell you who you can hang around and what you do with them
I will choose your safeword because you are an idiot who can't think of anything.
52. Don't mess around with Christian Grey and threaten to break up with him because he'll do somethig super romantic like break into your apartment, tie you up and have sex with you. Then he'll drink white wine while you lay aroud cold, naked and blindfolded. And put ice in your belly button because that's a thing, I guess.
53. Contract negotiations get plucky, quirky music. So, Anastasia is ok with lots of things but fisting ain't one! No genital clamps, either. Oh and now he's going to take her on a date once a week! Add it into appendix five!
54. "Why do I think you're telling me goodbye" "Because I'm leaving" oh....the dialog is so painful. PAINFUL!!!!!
55. This movie makes me feel like I want to bash my brains in with a hammer. WHY CAN'T I STOP????
56. I don't like this punishing thing. oh, not that he's spanked her for rolling her eyes he's just going to leave and go back to work?
57. Mom calls and they have a not-talk (that's when you pretend nothing's wrong and you are not being kept by a crazy weirdo while your mom chugs wine)
58.I want to take you to my playroom. Creepy sentence coming from a clearly at least 35 year old but pretending to be 27 year old man.
59. OH HE IS AN UDERWEAR SNIFFER!!!!! Are there any female underwear sniffers out there? Who would want to sniff dude drawers? I honestly can't think of one guy that makes me want to sniff his undies.
60. Now they're at dinner at his parents house and he's furious that she's friends with good old "No Way, Jose" and is going to visit her mother. He is bad news. This is like a really racy afterschool special about abusive relationships.
61. "Let me touch you!" she says. Ugggghhhhhhhh......
62. Oh, now it all makes sense...he's an asshole because he had a rough start in life. Mommy was a crack addict and a prostitute. Throw in webbed feet and he's doctor evil!
63. Thank God there's only 28 minutes left in this movie...but who's counting?
64. Mom and stepdad look surprisingly young. Now Anastasia's listening to her mom get porked in the other room. Wholesome family fun for everyone.
65. Anastasia's getting drunk with her mom at a bar and Christian shows up.
66. Now it's the next day and they're getting in a weird plane...glider, I guess...He just introduced Anastasia as his girlfriend.
67. Surprise! Now he's being an asshole again! Nobody is surprised at all.
68. For someone who's not supposed to drink she sure drinks a lot.
69. She's home. he's yelling into the phone like a VERY IMPORTANT PERSON. Now get to the playroom.....STAT!
70. Oh God is it over yet? No? Still 20 minutes? I should have picked out a safe word before I starting this shit show.
71. Maybe the 20 minutes remaining includes the credits.
72. What does Escala mean? That is the title of his building. Scale? Does he have psoriasis?
73. Why does he play the piano after sex/beating sessions? Why does she want to talk to him?
74. You know what this movie needs? The doorbell needs to ring and the singing telegram girl from Clue needs to be singing her little ditty. That would break up the monotony of this sad, sad situation.
75. Now we're back in the playroom and he's really just being a dick about this whole bondage thing. 76. Now she's mad. Her butt hurts. She's crying. It's a dark and stormy night....
77. Now he's apologizing. Blah blah blah I'm so damaged, We love each other, we're so wrong for each other.
78. I guess they're breaking up because she doesn't like being beaten within an inch of her life.
79. She totally has Stockholm syndrome and is completely obsessed with this horrible guy. No one can move on but she's definitely doing a better job. He's a wreck.
80. It's over! IT'S OVER!!!! I MADE IT!
Here's the takeaway points: 50 Shades of Grey is a study of what you would let a hot billionaire do to you. Basically, how much spanking would you let happen if you could ride First Class and get a free car?
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
The Truth about Planned Parenthood
Recently, an aquaintance of mine on Facebook shared an infographic about Planned Parenthood that included information about Planned Parenthood not providing mammogram services directly to patients so, therefore, Planned Parenthood is irrelevant and should be de-funded. This is an ongoing campaign by religious, anti-choice groups to limit women's access to family planning services and, ultimately, deny us our right to decide whether or not to carry a pregnancy (or to even choose to have sex without pregnancy).
There are several reasons why these arguments really annoy me. I am a firm believer in personal choice, in a woman's right to choose, and in the freedom to decide why, when, and with whom I have a baby. I have two daughters. I want them to have choices about their bodies and reproduction. I also have first hand experience with Planned Parenthood so I thought this would be a good place to share my experience.
When I was in high school, I still attended a medical practice with my family pediatrician. He was a really nice guy. He was middle aged, wore a bow tie, my mom and sister also went to this family practice. He was a man. I was 16 years old. I had a lot of questions. My mom suggested that I had reached a certain age. No, not that age, I had reached the age when a girl gets her first Pap Smear. I did not want him between my legs.
For those of you who haven't had a Pap, let me give you the run down. It's a super intimate procedure that is treated with no ceremony. You are brought into a room, told to strip and put on a paper gown (backless, really fashionable). Keep in mind that at 16 you have basically been told all your life to keep your clothes on, to not let anyone anywhere NEAR your vagina, and certainly not to let strangers poke around in it.
After a few minutes of sitting on the exam table, uneasily, trying to look through a magazine, but really stealing glances at the stirriups hanging off the end (and thinking that this bed suddenly looks like a torture device) the doctor knocks on the door and comes in. I have always had female doctors for this particular exam. I think that ladies understand that it is inherently uncomfortable, and try to get through it as gently, but quickly as possible. The doctor sits by your feet and you quickly realize that your crotch is going to be all that she sees for the next however-long-it-takes. The doctor encourages you to lay down, put your feet in the stirrups, and slide your butt to the edge of the table. Then you are told to relax, spread your legs, and you usually get asked about the weather as a speculum (metal torture device) is inserted into your vagina, ratcheted open, then a swab is inserted into the speculum where it scrapes your cervix so that tests can be done. Next, the speculum snaps closed, is pulled out of you (and OH GOD, it looks HUGE the first time- I think I actually gasped and asked the doctor if she really "put that in there") and you usually get a breast exam while you talk about school or work or something mundane.
That is a standard annual exam. It is not a fun exam, it's not sexy, it's uncomfortable for everyone. However, as a teen going to Planned Parenthood for my first exam, I was terrified. I turned 16 in 1996, and there were reports daily on the news of abortion clinic protests, providers being shot, etc. I thought I'd be pulling in to a parking lot full of raving anti abortion protesters, waving signs and calling me a whore. When I arrived at the building to find a perfectly mundane medical practice I was shocked that it looked like any other doctor's office. There was no one protesting. I walked up the stairs, went to reception and got my check in paperwork, filled it out, and waited for my name to be called. I had checked the boxes for "annual exam" and "birth control" and my heart was in my throat.
The nurse called my name, weighed me, took me into the exam room, and I got ready for the exam. During the exam the doctor talked to me about the weather, where I went to school, what I did for activities, etc.
Here are some things that did not happen: She never once asked me if I wanted to have an abortion. She never asked if I wanted to sell my future children on the black market. She didn't offer to make me a part of a worldwide conspiracy to ruin mens rights and force all women to end their pregnancies.
She talked to me like a person, asked if I had any questions, and invited me to get dressed and she'd be back to talk to me about birth control options.
After I got dressed, she re-entered the room and went over the birth control options with me. I had already discussed the choices with my mom at home, so I was pretty sure that the pill was for me. She gave me a prescription and a packet of pills, I went to the front desk, paid my bill, grabbed my free condoms out of the fish bowl (who doesn't take free stuff when it's offered?) and left.
It was empowering. I felt like I had done something important (and kind of weird) but I had taken control. Even then, I felt like I was a part of a quiet revolution for being a part of the Planned Parenthood family. I felt like I was connected to the struggle for womens rights in a small way. I felt a little confused about the exam, but proud of myself for taking this step.
in the nearly 20 years since then, I have had nearly 20 annual exams. Some were at Planned Parenthood, some were are Women's Health Centers in local hospitals. Most recently, they were at my OB/GYN's ofice. Nothing has changed in the procedure (except that I know my current OB/GYN and have for about 10 years). The only difference between my experience at Planned Parenthood and my OB/GYN's office was the decoration on the ceiling above the exam table. (Planned Parenthood had a poster of a kit flying, my OB/GYN's office has a mobile hung from the ceiling). They all have those damn stirrups. Somehow keeping my socks on makes the whole process seem dirtier, but you always leave your socks on.
Planned Parenthood provides much more than abortions (actually only 3% of the services they provide AND they can't use any federal money to pay for those abortions.) See the infographic below to see what they provide most. They provide a safe space for women and girls to get medical advice and services. They provide a caring, professional atmosphere for those medical services. They provide a place for girls and women to be empowered and start making choices about their own bodies. I stand with Planned Parenthood.
If you want more information, click this link.
To find your nearest Planned Parenthood, click here
There are several reasons why these arguments really annoy me. I am a firm believer in personal choice, in a woman's right to choose, and in the freedom to decide why, when, and with whom I have a baby. I have two daughters. I want them to have choices about their bodies and reproduction. I also have first hand experience with Planned Parenthood so I thought this would be a good place to share my experience.
 |
| I'm sure that's just a coincidence, though. |
When I was in high school, I still attended a medical practice with my family pediatrician. He was a really nice guy. He was middle aged, wore a bow tie, my mom and sister also went to this family practice. He was a man. I was 16 years old. I had a lot of questions. My mom suggested that I had reached a certain age. No, not that age, I had reached the age when a girl gets her first Pap Smear. I did not want him between my legs.
For those of you who haven't had a Pap, let me give you the run down. It's a super intimate procedure that is treated with no ceremony. You are brought into a room, told to strip and put on a paper gown (backless, really fashionable). Keep in mind that at 16 you have basically been told all your life to keep your clothes on, to not let anyone anywhere NEAR your vagina, and certainly not to let strangers poke around in it.
 |
| Looks like....fun? |
That is a standard annual exam. It is not a fun exam, it's not sexy, it's uncomfortable for everyone. However, as a teen going to Planned Parenthood for my first exam, I was terrified. I turned 16 in 1996, and there were reports daily on the news of abortion clinic protests, providers being shot, etc. I thought I'd be pulling in to a parking lot full of raving anti abortion protesters, waving signs and calling me a whore. When I arrived at the building to find a perfectly mundane medical practice I was shocked that it looked like any other doctor's office. There was no one protesting. I walked up the stairs, went to reception and got my check in paperwork, filled it out, and waited for my name to be called. I had checked the boxes for "annual exam" and "birth control" and my heart was in my throat.
The nurse called my name, weighed me, took me into the exam room, and I got ready for the exam. During the exam the doctor talked to me about the weather, where I went to school, what I did for activities, etc.
Here are some things that did not happen: She never once asked me if I wanted to have an abortion. She never asked if I wanted to sell my future children on the black market. She didn't offer to make me a part of a worldwide conspiracy to ruin mens rights and force all women to end their pregnancies.
She talked to me like a person, asked if I had any questions, and invited me to get dressed and she'd be back to talk to me about birth control options.
After I got dressed, she re-entered the room and went over the birth control options with me. I had already discussed the choices with my mom at home, so I was pretty sure that the pill was for me. She gave me a prescription and a packet of pills, I went to the front desk, paid my bill, grabbed my free condoms out of the fish bowl (who doesn't take free stuff when it's offered?) and left.
 |
| True Story. |
It was empowering. I felt like I had done something important (and kind of weird) but I had taken control. Even then, I felt like I was a part of a quiet revolution for being a part of the Planned Parenthood family. I felt like I was connected to the struggle for womens rights in a small way. I felt a little confused about the exam, but proud of myself for taking this step.
in the nearly 20 years since then, I have had nearly 20 annual exams. Some were at Planned Parenthood, some were are Women's Health Centers in local hospitals. Most recently, they were at my OB/GYN's ofice. Nothing has changed in the procedure (except that I know my current OB/GYN and have for about 10 years). The only difference between my experience at Planned Parenthood and my OB/GYN's office was the decoration on the ceiling above the exam table. (Planned Parenthood had a poster of a kit flying, my OB/GYN's office has a mobile hung from the ceiling). They all have those damn stirrups. Somehow keeping my socks on makes the whole process seem dirtier, but you always leave your socks on.
 |
| I think I should get one of these for the summer house. |
Planned Parenthood provides much more than abortions (actually only 3% of the services they provide AND they can't use any federal money to pay for those abortions.) See the infographic below to see what they provide most. They provide a safe space for women and girls to get medical advice and services. They provide a caring, professional atmosphere for those medical services. They provide a place for girls and women to be empowered and start making choices about their own bodies. I stand with Planned Parenthood.
If you want more information, click this link.
To find your nearest Planned Parenthood, click here
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Destined for Greatness
I've done it. I'm a-freaking-mazing. I am riding high and can't stop! This story is good, so settle in, get comfy, and get ready for the ride of your life.
It all started in June of 1979 when I was just a fetus in my mother's womb. I knew that place was pretty sweet, but wasn't a place for a mover and shaker like me, so in March of 1980 I broke out. I was born in a military hospital in Sicily, the first child, and went home, screaming, with my parents. Right from the beginning, I'm told that my head had to be held up so I could look around. I was destined for greatness.
The first fix I attempted was our dishwasher. This was a few months ago and, when I'd try to start it the thing would make a weird sound then not turn on. I searched online and found that it was probably the disposer in the bottom of the dishwasher. I decided to find directions, take that sucker a apart, and fix it. And, you know what? I did it! It took me an hour or two, but I took the whole thing apart, found the offending bits, removed the pieces of bone from the disposer, and put it back together. The dishwasher worked. The dishwasher worked!!!! I was ELATED!
Now, just a few weeks ago, the washing machine stopped draining. After taking it all apart (and I mean all of it) I diagnosed the problem: the pump. This particular washing machine is amazing, 14 years old but works like a charm. I, however, didn't want to spend $300 to fix it, and didn't want to buy a newer, cheap machine, so I had to fix it, myself. I bought a pump on EBay, but it was the wrong one. So I returned it. Then I bought the right pump on EBay. I got it home. I installed it. No luck. The washer was not spinning, the pump was working, but something was wrong. I put everything back together (after I took it all apart, again) and started the washer, again. It sprayed water all over the entire bathroom. I asked for help, to whoever was listening, and quit for the night. In the morning, I had an idea of what exactly to search for and was able to find pictures of what the guts of the washer should look like. I found out that I had put a tiny plastic cog over something instead of under. I replaced everything. The WASHER WORKED!!!!!
Clearly, this incident is indicative of the fact that I am freaking amazing. But, not just me, all of us are! I don't have any special skills, but I do have YouTube, a give 'em Hell attitude, and that little voice in my head that says "Hey, I can do that!" Thanks, Mom!
It all started in June of 1979 when I was just a fetus in my mother's womb. I knew that place was pretty sweet, but wasn't a place for a mover and shaker like me, so in March of 1980 I broke out. I was born in a military hospital in Sicily, the first child, and went home, screaming, with my parents. Right from the beginning, I'm told that my head had to be held up so I could look around. I was destined for greatness.
I grew up in a single parent home. My mom raised me and my sister alone stating shortly after my sister was born. Our mom was and still is a tough lady. When I think back on my childhood, I inevitably picture my mom looking at a product, thinking about fixing something, etc. and can hear her saying "I can do that!" There was never a question about it. She worked full time, took care of us, made Barbie clothes, made us poodle skirts, mowed the lawn, fixed the car...you name it, she did it. She did it out of necessity but she also did it because she could. I loved watching her start and complete projects. My inner feminist was awakened-and I still always hear that voice "Hey-I can do that!" when something needs to be done.
Over the years I've dabbled in fixin'. I mostly have left things to my husband but his schedule is prohibitive and I actually want him to spend time with our daughters when he's home. Some of it was out of financial need (like re-attaching my van's exhaust to the frame with a kit I bought at NAPA and a coat hanger) and some, like the tale I'm leading up to, were out of stubbornness, a will to DIY, and the availability of YouTube "how to" videos. Sorry for so much Clarkson-it was the first comparison my husband drew between how amazing I am at fixing things.
Clearly, this incident is indicative of the fact that I am freaking amazing. But, not just me, all of us are! I don't have any special skills, but I do have YouTube, a give 'em Hell attitude, and that little voice in my head that says "Hey, I can do that!" Thanks, Mom!
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Making a Weeping Angel with a Dollar Store Doll and feeling very uncomfortable in the process.
Trying to complete a Doctor Who themed craft for my daughter's 10th birthday got weird. I'm not a naturally crafty person, but I'll try just about anything for a birthday party now that they're old enough to remember them.
First, I looked up different ways to create them. This blog seemed the easiest to follow and looked pretty cool.
We went to the Dollar Store and picked up two lovely 10"dolls. This is where it starts to get weird. Quick disclaimer about the messy kitchen: normally I would put away or at least move the mess out of frame but I was on a time crunch and it was late AND I wanted the girls to help so we HAD to get this done-on top of the party supplies.
First, I stripped the dolls and bent those ladies over. After a whispered apology I stuffed a skewer in through the uncomfortable parts and all the way up to the head. That is one BIG bonus to working with cheap, hollow dolls. They are very easy to skewer.
Next, we cut the arms at the elbow (the kids were especially gleeful about this part) and chopped off their hair.
Next, we hot glued the hands over the eyes, and the forearms to the elbows, and then started assembling the gown.
We had decided that our Angels would be clad in nothing but the best-Dollar Store Surgical Masks and Foam Board wings. So, we got to work! We shaped the dresses, hot glued them on the Angels, added the wings, tied a string around the waist, and were very pleasantly surprised with the results!
Finally, it was time to paint.
We did a base coat of Mineral Blue, then a top coat of an ivory. My daughter thinks they are AWESOME and has already declared this her best birthday ever. I'm pretty happy with them and SUPER happy with the price tag (about 2.50 each)
Now, like the original blogger, we have to find a shelf or place by a mirror so that they don't get us!
Remember- DON'T BLINK!
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Sometimes, it Just sucks.
So, there I was, reading this article about the "sweet spot", getting all misty and realizing that if I am not in the parenting sweet spot, I'm pretty darn close. I can take the minions to the beach and relax, I can let them play outside unattended, I am starting to feel like a person again!
Then it happened.
We went to Wal-Mart-Mart. Now, I'm not saying that this store is a horrible hellscape where souls are taken in exchange for cheap consumer goods, but we had a rough trip. Child #2 whining and crying (for the second day in a row) about how mean I am because I won't buy Goldfish crackers. And I can't buy Goldfish crackers, even if I wanted to, because of how she's acting. You know what I mean.
We buy a bag of Kisses, soft taco ingredients because there should be leftover taco meat at home, and a few other things.
We get home. FINALLY!!! Look in the fridge- my heart sinks-no leftover taco meat. Drop non-perishables, send oldest to crate the uber destructive dogs while we're gone, run to the store to get the meat. Go back home.
Start bringing in the groceries. The oldest comes to me with a look of concern. "The dogs are the soft tacos," she says, "and the chocolate-all of it."
"GET THEM IN THEIR CRATE! We have to get back to the store."
The kids are back in the car.
I bellow "Jesus Fucking Christ" at the empty wrappers strewn around the kitchen.
I get in the car. A stream of Fuck-based profanities escapes my body like none I've ever shared in front of my kids. I apologize, laugh, say "well, now you know how to use that word." look in the rear view mirror, they're trapped between laughing and terror of this "new" mom.
We return from the store, I'm cooking the long awaited taco meat. I hear screaming and crying from the yard. The youngest child has decided to pee in the yard and has pissed all over herself. Now she's squatting, crying and screaming. I get her inside-into a bath- then to dinner. No one is happy. Everyone is embarrassed. We just have to make it to dinner. GODDAMN IT!!!!
Then it happened.
We went to Wal-Mart-Mart. Now, I'm not saying that this store is a horrible hellscape where souls are taken in exchange for cheap consumer goods, but we had a rough trip. Child #2 whining and crying (for the second day in a row) about how mean I am because I won't buy Goldfish crackers. And I can't buy Goldfish crackers, even if I wanted to, because of how she's acting. You know what I mean.
We buy a bag of Kisses, soft taco ingredients because there should be leftover taco meat at home, and a few other things.
We get home. FINALLY!!! Look in the fridge- my heart sinks-no leftover taco meat. Drop non-perishables, send oldest to crate the uber destructive dogs while we're gone, run to the store to get the meat. Go back home.
Start bringing in the groceries. The oldest comes to me with a look of concern. "The dogs are the soft tacos," she says, "and the chocolate-all of it."
"GET THEM IN THEIR CRATE! We have to get back to the store."
The kids are back in the car.
I bellow "Jesus Fucking Christ" at the empty wrappers strewn around the kitchen.
I get in the car. A stream of Fuck-based profanities escapes my body like none I've ever shared in front of my kids. I apologize, laugh, say "well, now you know how to use that word." look in the rear view mirror, they're trapped between laughing and terror of this "new" mom.
We return from the store, I'm cooking the long awaited taco meat. I hear screaming and crying from the yard. The youngest child has decided to pee in the yard and has pissed all over herself. Now she's squatting, crying and screaming. I get her inside-into a bath- then to dinner. No one is happy. Everyone is embarrassed. We just have to make it to dinner. GODDAMN IT!!!!
Sometimes you just try to make it to soft tacos. Sometimes it sucks. Then you try to remember you've handled much tougher stuff. You're in the sweet spot.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Some Rules for My Girls
Girls...oh man. I never thought I would have girls. Let alone two of them. I was the girl who always stayed close to guys because they are so much simpler to deal with. I was the girl who had a few girl friends but never wanted to be involved in the fight to be popular or cool or anything. I just wanted to be me-quirky, happy, musical theater me.
Now I have two girls that I somehow have to help become functional adult women at some point. How do you do that when you never really were "one of the girls?" How do I help them become the kind of girls who like themselves, are kind to others and more, when those were not traits that I associated with girls when I was in school? I've come up with a few guidelines:
1. No Bullshit. This is a general rule that I have and use it in my brain (but not out loud). When I know that there is a sizeable amount of BS spewing from my daughters I have to call them on it. I really despise how so many girls/women use baby voices, play dumb, or play up drama to get what they want. If you are not a 10 year old, don't act like one to get what you want.
2. No Drama. Do not be that girl. Do not be that girl who gets mad, pouts, stomps away but waits for everyone to come chasing after her. They may chase after you right now, while you're little-but that shit gets old fast. No one wants to hang out with the foot-stomping, pouting, whiny girl who takes off at the first instance of things not going her way. If something is wrong, refer to #1. Address things with people. Be straightforward and honest and don't play games.
3. Never be afraid to be yourself. Do you like trucks? Computer Coding? Ballet? Frogs? Cheerleading? Basketball? Be you. Whatever that is. Stop trying to figure out what everyone likes and be yourself. You are great! If you know who you are and what your core values are it's easier to stay true to them.
4. Don't go for the exciting/dangerous guy or group of friends. Trust me. There is nothing but an ocean of shit waiting for you there. Don't go for people you "can fix." You can't. No. You can't fix them. I know you think you can but you can't. Be around people who challenge you to be a better you, support you, and treat you the way you treat them. Plus, they should make you laugh.
5. Forgive yourself and move on. You will make mistakes, and life will get messy from time to time. Forgive yourself learn your lessons, and move on. Forgive other people, too. It feels great.
6. Believe in yourself but don't take yourself too seriously. Your problems will never be more important than anyone else's, and you need to be able to figure out how to get out of tight situations without losing your mind. You need to be able to see the humor in situations, and you also need to be able to have perspective. If something's not working out the way you want it to-big deal. Figure out a way to make it work for you or just deal with it until things come around. The beauty of life is that nothing is permanent and you can always find another way-but not if you're convinced that your original plan is the only way to go.
Now I have two girls that I somehow have to help become functional adult women at some point. How do you do that when you never really were "one of the girls?" How do I help them become the kind of girls who like themselves, are kind to others and more, when those were not traits that I associated with girls when I was in school? I've come up with a few guidelines:
1. No Bullshit. This is a general rule that I have and use it in my brain (but not out loud). When I know that there is a sizeable amount of BS spewing from my daughters I have to call them on it. I really despise how so many girls/women use baby voices, play dumb, or play up drama to get what they want. If you are not a 10 year old, don't act like one to get what you want.
2. No Drama. Do not be that girl. Do not be that girl who gets mad, pouts, stomps away but waits for everyone to come chasing after her. They may chase after you right now, while you're little-but that shit gets old fast. No one wants to hang out with the foot-stomping, pouting, whiny girl who takes off at the first instance of things not going her way. If something is wrong, refer to #1. Address things with people. Be straightforward and honest and don't play games.
3. Never be afraid to be yourself. Do you like trucks? Computer Coding? Ballet? Frogs? Cheerleading? Basketball? Be you. Whatever that is. Stop trying to figure out what everyone likes and be yourself. You are great! If you know who you are and what your core values are it's easier to stay true to them.
4. Don't go for the exciting/dangerous guy or group of friends. Trust me. There is nothing but an ocean of shit waiting for you there. Don't go for people you "can fix." You can't. No. You can't fix them. I know you think you can but you can't. Be around people who challenge you to be a better you, support you, and treat you the way you treat them. Plus, they should make you laugh.
5. Forgive yourself and move on. You will make mistakes, and life will get messy from time to time. Forgive yourself learn your lessons, and move on. Forgive other people, too. It feels great.
6. Believe in yourself but don't take yourself too seriously. Your problems will never be more important than anyone else's, and you need to be able to figure out how to get out of tight situations without losing your mind. You need to be able to see the humor in situations, and you also need to be able to have perspective. If something's not working out the way you want it to-big deal. Figure out a way to make it work for you or just deal with it until things come around. The beauty of life is that nothing is permanent and you can always find another way-but not if you're convinced that your original plan is the only way to go.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
A Haunting Tale. 5 Reasons Why I'm A Ghost Haunting My Children
I have come to the realization that I am a ghost haunting my children. There is an overwhelming amount of evidence to support this claim, and that is what I intend to do. I think that you will find that you are also a ghost.
1. My children often speak to me in general but cannot hear my replies, or,when I speak to them, they can't hear me at all. I used to think that they were just ignoring me but now I think there is a semi-penetrable veil of time and space between us and they occasionally get glimpses of me or hear my voice from a far.
2. I often have to resort to making electronic devices disappear or not work at all, and, in extreme occasions, stomp around or slam doors, to get my point across or to get them to pay attention. I realize that this is kind of a hack-y ghost trick-used in all of the movies, but sometimes it's all I've got!
3. I occasionally turn up in pictures or video when not expected. I'll be getting dressed or doing dishes or some other task and-boom- there I am! I'm always a little shocked when I'm captured on film, so I must be some sort of mythical creature.
4. Apparently I am a magical "finding" ghost since I'm the only being in the house who can find "ANYTHING." When I am summoned with the words "Mommy, I can't find ________" I appear where I am needed, and TA-DAAAAA! I find the socks, or toy, or whatever.
5. I can do things all day long, a multitude of tasks, and the only thing that they notice is that I've moved something. Suddenly it's a catastrophe- "Where is RAINBOW DASH???" I hear. I spring into action. I've been summoned!
Being a ghost can be difficult and challenging but I think you'll find that haunting your family can be quite rewarding. If you haunt them long enough and do a satisfactory job, I'm told that you can even turn into a real person some day-some time after they turn 18.
1. My children often speak to me in general but cannot hear my replies, or,when I speak to them, they can't hear me at all. I used to think that they were just ignoring me but now I think there is a semi-penetrable veil of time and space between us and they occasionally get glimpses of me or hear my voice from a far.
2. I often have to resort to making electronic devices disappear or not work at all, and, in extreme occasions, stomp around or slam doors, to get my point across or to get them to pay attention. I realize that this is kind of a hack-y ghost trick-used in all of the movies, but sometimes it's all I've got!
3. I occasionally turn up in pictures or video when not expected. I'll be getting dressed or doing dishes or some other task and-boom- there I am! I'm always a little shocked when I'm captured on film, so I must be some sort of mythical creature.
4. Apparently I am a magical "finding" ghost since I'm the only being in the house who can find "ANYTHING." When I am summoned with the words "Mommy, I can't find ________" I appear where I am needed, and TA-DAAAAA! I find the socks, or toy, or whatever.
5. I can do things all day long, a multitude of tasks, and the only thing that they notice is that I've moved something. Suddenly it's a catastrophe- "Where is RAINBOW DASH???" I hear. I spring into action. I've been summoned!
Being a ghost can be difficult and challenging but I think you'll find that haunting your family can be quite rewarding. If you haunt them long enough and do a satisfactory job, I'm told that you can even turn into a real person some day-some time after they turn 18.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
The Jem Trailer is here...and it filled me with rage.
I grew up watching Jen and the Holograms. My sister and I would poor up our hair, paint our faces like Jem and Kimber, touch our earrings and say "Showtime, Synergy!" We loved that Jem was the CEO of her own company, struggled with her double life, a great guy, and always defeated the Misfits. We didn't know it at the time, but it was more than just a silly kids cartoon. In my childhood, it was really the only time we saw a female character take charge, be smart, and kick ads! She wasn't someone's sidekick! She was the HBIC! We loved Jem. We wanted to be her not because she was good at manipulating men or was pretty, because she was talented and stood up for herself.
This show meant so much to me that I introduced it to my girls. They felt the same way.
Naturally, when we found out that there was going to be a Jem movie we were thrilled. Then we watched the trailer (below)
What, in the name of all that is Holy is that? That's not Jem! Why the Hell would they turn Jem's awesome story into some stupid teen drama? Jem is supposed to be a grown woman! Where are the Holograms? Where is the sense of how goddamn cool Jen is? Where the frick are the Misfits? That's Rio? NO!
Honestly, I don't even know how to end this post. I just....ugh. Feel free to write profanity filled rants in the comments. Jem wasn't perfect, but she was pretty damn great. Maybe some day they'll get it right.
Honestly, I don't even know how to end this post. I just....ugh. Feel free to write profanity filled rants in the comments. Jem wasn't perfect, but she was pretty damn great. Maybe some day they'll get it right.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Working Out...again
I knew that starting to run again at 35 would be hard on my body, but I didn't know it would be this hard. Running now, while it feels great in the moment, has introduced me to a level of discomfort I didn't know existed. I know it's not because of how out of shape I am-because I am not that much more out of shape than the last time I really got serious about my physical fitness. The main difference is that now I'm 35-when before, I was 29.
When I was 29 and started working out again, I had two young kids but could find an hour to work out during their nap times 5 days a week. 5 DAYS A WEEK!!! I would do push ups, ab work, cardio, weight lifting, and my body LOVED it. Sure, I was sore, but it went away quickly.
Last week I started a Couch to 5K workout. It is 3 days per week for 30 minutes. That's it. I'm now on week two. Today I thought I might have to amputate my legs after doing the workout for 31 minutes.
This is something I have never experienced before. I know that the workout is not the problem. It feels great to move my body and see my times improving. I like feeling my muscles move and seeing them change after just a week. I like knowing that my body can do what I need it to do.
Before, when I was 29, my body just cooperated with me. My body said "sure, we can do this!" I said "Do More!" and my body said "YES!!! MORE!!!" Now, at 35, I say "can we please, please, please go for a little run today? My body sighs and says "Fuck off, not now, I want to take a nap" and I'll say "well, we really need to" and my body says "okay...but you know what that means for you later..."
Now I know. Right after my run I felt great. Loose, long, lanky muscles, tired, sweaty, satisfied. A few hours later I felt like the crypt keeper. I felt like my legs, feet, ankles and brain were screaming at me with every step. "WHY!!!!! Why???? This is week 2! It should start to feel better now...not like torture!!" But I know, this is all part of getting older. I'm fortunate that I can get in shape, train for a 5K, challenge myself but I know that this is going to hurt like Hell. That's okay-I'm tough.
 |
| Look at how YOUNG and energetic I am!!!!! |
When I was 29 and started working out again, I had two young kids but could find an hour to work out during their nap times 5 days a week. 5 DAYS A WEEK!!! I would do push ups, ab work, cardio, weight lifting, and my body LOVED it. Sure, I was sore, but it went away quickly.
Last week I started a Couch to 5K workout. It is 3 days per week for 30 minutes. That's it. I'm now on week two. Today I thought I might have to amputate my legs after doing the workout for 31 minutes.
 |
| This is honestly what I looked like when I got off the couch a few hours after my run. |
Before, when I was 29, my body just cooperated with me. My body said "sure, we can do this!" I said "Do More!" and my body said "YES!!! MORE!!!" Now, at 35, I say "can we please, please, please go for a little run today? My body sighs and says "Fuck off, not now, I want to take a nap" and I'll say "well, we really need to" and my body says "okay...but you know what that means for you later..."
Now I know. Right after my run I felt great. Loose, long, lanky muscles, tired, sweaty, satisfied. A few hours later I felt like the crypt keeper. I felt like my legs, feet, ankles and brain were screaming at me with every step. "WHY!!!!! Why???? This is week 2! It should start to feel better now...not like torture!!" But I know, this is all part of getting older. I'm fortunate that I can get in shape, train for a 5K, challenge myself but I know that this is going to hurt like Hell. That's okay-I'm tough.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Becoming
Somewhere along the way, I have become a mother. I don't mean on the day my first daughter was born when it seemed so weird to say "that's my daughter," or the time that I fumbled through teaching her to walk or even when I introduced her to her younger sister-because I don't think that it happened in one moment.
I think it was a million little failures, fears and maybe 100 successes. I think that I knew that I was their mother, but I didn't understand that, at the core of my being, I AM a mother. I think that living in the neverending, messy confusion of early motherhood and waiting for something to happen, something to change, I didn't feel the subtle and important changes happening in my core.
When my eldest daughter was born she was beautiful and disgusting-all covered in goo and blood and screaming. I looked at her and marveled at her perfection and immediately thought "Oh shit, I have to take her home." I was completely terrified and projectile vomited all over my hospital room after eating two purple popsicles and didn't sleep again for 3 years and still I craved her snuggles, smiles, words, and laughter. Somewhere, I started to feel that mother-ness...
Maybe it was when my youngest was born and I felt like my heart was going to explode with joy when I saw my two beautiful girls together. Maybe it was teaching my littlest and last baby the same things I had taught my eldest, and having her happily help her sister. Maybe it was just a culmination of experiences, laughter, tears and exhaustion that finally makes me feel that I am more than just me.
Motherhood is transcendent. It is really realizing that you are not who you were before. You can never be that person again. You can't be that person who didn't understand how your mom could have been soooooo mean to you that time. Oh, you understand. Mom, I totally get it. Even more than that, you know why she came to everything for you-all of your concerts, games, so many sports things sitting on those horrible bleachers, and she was the ultimate fan of whatever you were doing at the time. That is being a mother.
Being a mother is knowing that you can never, ever be the same person you were before your children were born, because they have helped you grow into something that is more complicated, more beautiful, better than before.
I don't know when it happened, but at some point I became not just me, but a mother, and it is terrifying and wonderful and frustrating and every other adjective you could think of.
But I wouldn't change a second of it.
I think it was a million little failures, fears and maybe 100 successes. I think that I knew that I was their mother, but I didn't understand that, at the core of my being, I AM a mother. I think that living in the neverending, messy confusion of early motherhood and waiting for something to happen, something to change, I didn't feel the subtle and important changes happening in my core.
When my eldest daughter was born she was beautiful and disgusting-all covered in goo and blood and screaming. I looked at her and marveled at her perfection and immediately thought "Oh shit, I have to take her home." I was completely terrified and projectile vomited all over my hospital room after eating two purple popsicles and didn't sleep again for 3 years and still I craved her snuggles, smiles, words, and laughter. Somewhere, I started to feel that mother-ness...
Maybe it was when my youngest was born and I felt like my heart was going to explode with joy when I saw my two beautiful girls together. Maybe it was teaching my littlest and last baby the same things I had taught my eldest, and having her happily help her sister. Maybe it was just a culmination of experiences, laughter, tears and exhaustion that finally makes me feel that I am more than just me.
Motherhood is transcendent. It is really realizing that you are not who you were before. You can never be that person again. You can't be that person who didn't understand how your mom could have been soooooo mean to you that time. Oh, you understand. Mom, I totally get it. Even more than that, you know why she came to everything for you-all of your concerts, games, so many sports things sitting on those horrible bleachers, and she was the ultimate fan of whatever you were doing at the time. That is being a mother.
Being a mother is knowing that you can never, ever be the same person you were before your children were born, because they have helped you grow into something that is more complicated, more beautiful, better than before.
I don't know when it happened, but at some point I became not just me, but a mother, and it is terrifying and wonderful and frustrating and every other adjective you could think of.
But I wouldn't change a second of it.
Friday, May 8, 2015
Mother's Day
Let's talk, for a minute, about Mother's Day. Mother's Day is, at best, not horrible, and at worse, a total soul-crushing day of torture. (The one exception: The Mother's Day before when you're pregnant with your first child. That is a magical day). It may surprise you that I'm skeptical of Mother's Day, but I am.
So, what's the problem with Mother's Day? Mothers with young children just want to sleep in, not be responsible for everything, and probably don't want to rush around honoring every other mother in the world. We're in the trenches. We're there-getting poo flung at us and peed on and yelled at and told that our food is gross, feeling like we can't do anything right, our house isn't clean enough, we work too hard or not enough, etc, etc, etc. Still, every year, we think that Mother's Day will be different. But it won't.
To kids it's just another day. Kids don't really care about Mother's Day because they don't understand what it's like to be a mother and they won't until they are one. Since you've become a mom, chances are that you've thanked your mom repeatedly for being a great mother-because you didn't know what it took to keep these kids fed, clothed, and keep yourself functional until you became a parent. Being a mother is amazing but terribly difficult work.
What would be a perfect Mother's Day for me? Well, sleeping past 7, not having to shower for a while, sitting around, drinking a coffee while my kids play nicely, don't complain that they're bored or fight with each other, being able to ask once for something to be done-and having it be completed, and just, in general, being treated like a human being. Before motherhood I wouldn't have thought that was a big deal, but now, that looks like an amazing day! BEST.DAY.EVER! Now, I bet that all of the moms are nodding and smiling and there's sappy music playing in your head. Yes, that's what most of us want. Grand gestures are fantastic, but if there is nothing else it's just a day where we get a fantastic, new tennis bracelet and matching earrings. Most of us don't want to rush around and see everyone else in the world who is also a mother. Most of us just want to relax, be a little selfish, and have one day where we don't have to contort into the role that everyone else needs us to be. It's Mother's Day, right?
So moms, call your mom and tell her you love her and that you want to thank her for being so amazing. Offer to take her out or make her lunch or dinner or whatever you want to do. It doesn't have to be on Mother's Day. If you have young kids, this day is about you. Spend it recognizing other mothers or not! The important thing is this-just lower your expectations. Mother's Day is infinitely more important to you than anyone else. That's just the way it is. They love you, they appreciate you, just try to relax and enjoy whatever the day brings. Save up all of your stories, call you BFF, and you can bond over your respective days later.
Husbands: Make or buy her a card/gift/whatever means the most to her. Tell her you love her and thank her for being your children's mother. If there's a problem intervene before everyone ends up dead.
Kids: Don't be assholes to your mom today. She is so very tired of your shit and this is one day that she will not just sweep it under the rug. That hand made pinch pot will not make up for the giant fit you threw yesterday, but a pinch pot, a hug, getting along with your sibling and not complaining about what Mom wants to do are a good start!
Happy Mother's Day, to all of the mothers out there!
 |
| This is an old Irish Mother's Day blessing, right? |
So, what's the problem with Mother's Day? Mothers with young children just want to sleep in, not be responsible for everything, and probably don't want to rush around honoring every other mother in the world. We're in the trenches. We're there-getting poo flung at us and peed on and yelled at and told that our food is gross, feeling like we can't do anything right, our house isn't clean enough, we work too hard or not enough, etc, etc, etc. Still, every year, we think that Mother's Day will be different. But it won't.
To kids it's just another day. Kids don't really care about Mother's Day because they don't understand what it's like to be a mother and they won't until they are one. Since you've become a mom, chances are that you've thanked your mom repeatedly for being a great mother-because you didn't know what it took to keep these kids fed, clothed, and keep yourself functional until you became a parent. Being a mother is amazing but terribly difficult work.
What would be a perfect Mother's Day for me? Well, sleeping past 7, not having to shower for a while, sitting around, drinking a coffee while my kids play nicely, don't complain that they're bored or fight with each other, being able to ask once for something to be done-and having it be completed, and just, in general, being treated like a human being. Before motherhood I wouldn't have thought that was a big deal, but now, that looks like an amazing day! BEST.DAY.EVER! Now, I bet that all of the moms are nodding and smiling and there's sappy music playing in your head. Yes, that's what most of us want. Grand gestures are fantastic, but if there is nothing else it's just a day where we get a fantastic, new tennis bracelet and matching earrings. Most of us don't want to rush around and see everyone else in the world who is also a mother. Most of us just want to relax, be a little selfish, and have one day where we don't have to contort into the role that everyone else needs us to be. It's Mother's Day, right?
So moms, call your mom and tell her you love her and that you want to thank her for being so amazing. Offer to take her out or make her lunch or dinner or whatever you want to do. It doesn't have to be on Mother's Day. If you have young kids, this day is about you. Spend it recognizing other mothers or not! The important thing is this-just lower your expectations. Mother's Day is infinitely more important to you than anyone else. That's just the way it is. They love you, they appreciate you, just try to relax and enjoy whatever the day brings. Save up all of your stories, call you BFF, and you can bond over your respective days later.
Husbands: Make or buy her a card/gift/whatever means the most to her. Tell her you love her and thank her for being your children's mother. If there's a problem intervene before everyone ends up dead.
Kids: Don't be assholes to your mom today. She is so very tired of your shit and this is one day that she will not just sweep it under the rug. That hand made pinch pot will not make up for the giant fit you threw yesterday, but a pinch pot, a hug, getting along with your sibling and not complaining about what Mom wants to do are a good start!
Happy Mother's Day, to all of the mothers out there!
Writing, blogs, and this site
Blogging for me is very therapeutic. I find a lot of solace in sitting in front of my computer, putting my thoughts out to the world, and hoping that I can make someone laugh or make their day seem a little easier.
I love this blog and even though I've gone through LONG dry spells, I really enjoy writing my posts and fooling around with my little website.
I've decided to make a few changes to this blog-and make it more of a community feel. I really love social networks and message boards and have added my own to another page on here. It is a place for moms to talk, share ideas, complain, whatever. I hope that people will make use of it and that we can have some great conversations. Right now I'm just talking to myself over there-so come chat!
I've also added a page for coupons. As moms, we all need ways to save money and coupons.com is a great resource for that. Please print your coupons from here-and comment to let me know how much you saved!
I'm working on some new posts and am excited for the new additions to the blog. Check out my amazing sponsors, (click here to get a coupon from Michaels) join in a conversation, print out your coupons, and let's be a community!
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Running To Me
I spend a lot of time thinking about who I am. I suppose I have to, since I'm the only one who really cares. My husband cares about me-but not my existential questions. He cares if I'm happy and healthy and if our marriage is working. That's really all you can ask of another person. My kids care if I show them that I love them, make their food, get them to activities, and don't yell too much. To them, I'm simply "mom" a construct that didn't really exist before them and they're not totally wrong.
When I became a mother, I became a different person. It didn't happen at once and it has been a really confusing road, but somewhere along the way I became Kristen 2.0...or maybe 5.0 or more. Who knows how many different incarnations I've really had and not noticed the changes over time, but this incarnation is a big, big change.
There are many parts of this "new" Kristen that I like, and probably the best part is that I finally really love and accept my body. I love my big butt and curvy figure. I really like my hair. I even like my crooked, hooked witch nose. I love my belly and thighs and my strong arms and legs.
This is a big deal because I have always hated and shamed myself about my body. I was skinny in high school because I didn't eat anything but rice, salads, and drink diet soda. I was miserable in my own skin. I was constantly belittling myself, comparing myself to others, and so disappointed that I could never get my skin that perfect shade of tan, that I had a different body shape than in the magazines, that my boobs never looked right-you name it, I shamed it.
That continued into college where I suddenly started gaining weight for no conceivable reason
(it turns out that I had a pretty serious thyroid issue) and after babies when I was constantly frustrated with my body-so much so that I started devoting hours per day to working out, planning my food intake, and became obsessed and disgusted with myself because after all of that work, I still wasn't where I needed to be. Then I gained the weight back.
Now I was totally disgusted with myself
, angry that I had let myself down, etc. Angry that I had lost control. Ashamed that I was the fat mom, the fat friend, the fat wife.
Last summer, I had an epiphany. This is my body. This is the one that I was given and the only way that I can really be who I want to be is to accept me. That means accepting the big butt, the curvy figure, my crooked nose, my soft belly, strong legs and arms, and work with them. I found that the parts of me that I didn't like were not problems-in fact, once I started choosing clothes to really fit my body, my perception of what I looked like completely changed. Suddenly I could look good, feel good, wear comfortable clothes (jeans that fit a butt in them!!!! Thank you Lane Bryant!)
Finally, I decided to exercise because I enjoy the feeling of challenging my body, not because I am disgusted by it. Read that again. I decided to exercise because I enjoy the feeling of challenging my body, not because I am disgusted by it. It's true! There is a whole different kind of exuberance that you feel when you are taking an action to get a positive result. I went running yesterday and it was fun! I took a selfie and I was sweaty, puffy, tired but so happy. As I was running I thought "Wow, my legs are really strong and so are my lungs." You know what I didn't think? I didn't think about how disgusting my body was or how I looked or how I needed to be better and fix this now or I was a failure.
I am so happy to have become this new version of myself, this powerful, strong, me. I am working on getting stronger because I love this body, not because I hate what I am. I am a mom, I am strong, I am running toward my best self, not away from someone that I am ashamed of.
When I became a mother, I became a different person. It didn't happen at once and it has been a really confusing road, but somewhere along the way I became Kristen 2.0...or maybe 5.0 or more. Who knows how many different incarnations I've really had and not noticed the changes over time, but this incarnation is a big, big change.
There are many parts of this "new" Kristen that I like, and probably the best part is that I finally really love and accept my body. I love my big butt and curvy figure. I really like my hair. I even like my crooked, hooked witch nose. I love my belly and thighs and my strong arms and legs.
This is a big deal because I have always hated and shamed myself about my body. I was skinny in high school because I didn't eat anything but rice, salads, and drink diet soda. I was miserable in my own skin. I was constantly belittling myself, comparing myself to others, and so disappointed that I could never get my skin that perfect shade of tan, that I had a different body shape than in the magazines, that my boobs never looked right-you name it, I shamed it.
That continued into college where I suddenly started gaining weight for no conceivable reason
(it turns out that I had a pretty serious thyroid issue) and after babies when I was constantly frustrated with my body-so much so that I started devoting hours per day to working out, planning my food intake, and became obsessed and disgusted with myself because after all of that work, I still wasn't where I needed to be. Then I gained the weight back.
Now I was totally disgusted with myself
, angry that I had let myself down, etc. Angry that I had lost control. Ashamed that I was the fat mom, the fat friend, the fat wife.
Last summer, I had an epiphany. This is my body. This is the one that I was given and the only way that I can really be who I want to be is to accept me. That means accepting the big butt, the curvy figure, my crooked nose, my soft belly, strong legs and arms, and work with them. I found that the parts of me that I didn't like were not problems-in fact, once I started choosing clothes to really fit my body, my perception of what I looked like completely changed. Suddenly I could look good, feel good, wear comfortable clothes (jeans that fit a butt in them!!!! Thank you Lane Bryant!)
Finally, I decided to exercise because I enjoy the feeling of challenging my body, not because I am disgusted by it. Read that again. I decided to exercise because I enjoy the feeling of challenging my body, not because I am disgusted by it. It's true! There is a whole different kind of exuberance that you feel when you are taking an action to get a positive result. I went running yesterday and it was fun! I took a selfie and I was sweaty, puffy, tired but so happy. As I was running I thought "Wow, my legs are really strong and so are my lungs." You know what I didn't think? I didn't think about how disgusting my body was or how I looked or how I needed to be better and fix this now or I was a failure.
I am so happy to have become this new version of myself, this powerful, strong, me. I am working on getting stronger because I love this body, not because I hate what I am. I am a mom, I am strong, I am running toward my best self, not away from someone that I am ashamed of.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
To My Children in the Future
Hello, children! I know that the year is 2030 or after and you are grown-ass women now. Since it's the future, I'm hoping that we have achieved hoverboard technology, you can fly your space ship to work, and you guys have figured out how to fix the climate change problem that we did nothing to remedy. We actually thought we'd get that fixed. So sorry about that.
So, here are a few things that present me (2015 mom who does not have a hoverboard and still has to drive a car ON THE GROUND) wants to let you know.
1. I'm sorry about all of the things I have done and will continue to do that really screw you up. I know that I am doing my best but life is hard and parenting is really hard...and I don't know what I'm doing most of the time. Dad and I are really trying to be the best parents we can be but that is a tall order and, frankly, that brings me to my next point.
2. We're so sorry that we're so damn tired. But here's the thing-we are. We work hard at work and at home so there have been many times when we are just so.freaking.tired. and we can not cope. We love you both and may be inconsistent and let you wear us down even when we should stand our ground but we are so.damn.tired. We really are trying to pick our battles and I'm positive we've said yes when we should say no and vice versa-just know that every mistake is really coming from the best of intentions, well, most of them.
3. #1, my first child, "mommy's little experiment" as we sometimes joke, I am so sorry for being so overly exhuberant and probably scaring you to death with my mothering intensity. I am an intense person-and ALL of that intensity was funneled into BEING THE BEST MOTHER for you until your sister came along. That is 3 1/2 years of intense, winner takes all crazy and you handled it like a champ. Thank you for being such a joyful, sweet and intuitive child and for turning out so well despite my unintentional efforts to make you a neurotic little basket case. I'm also sorry that you see that your little sister has some different rules than you had at her different ages. Part of this is because of item 2, part of this is due to experience. We think that certain things are not worth fighting over-you taught us that-but it does suck and feel like she's favored. I get it, I am an older sister, I'm swore I'd treat all of my children exactly the same but that is not always possible or necessary. Just think-when you're a teen you'll be able to drive and she'll have to ask you for rides places and that's pretty sweet.
4. #2, my second and final baby. I am so sorry for being so freaking sad and weepy and weird about you. I'm sorry it's so hard for me to say "no" to you and I'm sorry for treating you like you're older than you are. You are so smart and sweet and talk like a much older child (because your older sister loves teaching you things) and I often forget that you are 3 1/2 years younger than your sister. On the other hand, I'm sorry I sometimes baby you. I'm also sorry that your baby book only has 3 pages filled out and a receipt from your 1 year well baby check while your sister has entire scrap books devoted to her first year of life.
5. Finally, I hope that your father and I are a good example of a healthy relationship and that you don't swear too much (just enough to make your point but not so much that you sound like a Jerry Springer guest). I hope that you are able to laugh easily and fight for underdogs. I hope that you are finding a purpose and can use your Minecraft skills for good. Maybe you can help build the colony on Mars? I hope you still love math and science and remember that smart girls are cool. I hope that you make decisions based on hope for the path they'll lead you down instead of fear. I hope that you'll explore the world and taste foods and see amazing things. I hope you know how much we love you.
Most of all, I really, really, really hope that I have a freaking flying car.
So, here are a few things that present me (2015 mom who does not have a hoverboard and still has to drive a car ON THE GROUND) wants to let you know.
 |
| What is there to look forward to now that you have one of these? |
1. I'm sorry about all of the things I have done and will continue to do that really screw you up. I know that I am doing my best but life is hard and parenting is really hard...and I don't know what I'm doing most of the time. Dad and I are really trying to be the best parents we can be but that is a tall order and, frankly, that brings me to my next point.
2. We're so sorry that we're so damn tired. But here's the thing-we are. We work hard at work and at home so there have been many times when we are just so.freaking.tired. and we can not cope. We love you both and may be inconsistent and let you wear us down even when we should stand our ground but we are so.damn.tired. We really are trying to pick our battles and I'm positive we've said yes when we should say no and vice versa-just know that every mistake is really coming from the best of intentions, well, most of them.
3. #1, my first child, "mommy's little experiment" as we sometimes joke, I am so sorry for being so overly exhuberant and probably scaring you to death with my mothering intensity. I am an intense person-and ALL of that intensity was funneled into BEING THE BEST MOTHER for you until your sister came along. That is 3 1/2 years of intense, winner takes all crazy and you handled it like a champ. Thank you for being such a joyful, sweet and intuitive child and for turning out so well despite my unintentional efforts to make you a neurotic little basket case. I'm also sorry that you see that your little sister has some different rules than you had at her different ages. Part of this is because of item 2, part of this is due to experience. We think that certain things are not worth fighting over-you taught us that-but it does suck and feel like she's favored. I get it, I am an older sister, I'm swore I'd treat all of my children exactly the same but that is not always possible or necessary. Just think-when you're a teen you'll be able to drive and she'll have to ask you for rides places and that's pretty sweet.
4. #2, my second and final baby. I am so sorry for being so freaking sad and weepy and weird about you. I'm sorry it's so hard for me to say "no" to you and I'm sorry for treating you like you're older than you are. You are so smart and sweet and talk like a much older child (because your older sister loves teaching you things) and I often forget that you are 3 1/2 years younger than your sister. On the other hand, I'm sorry I sometimes baby you. I'm also sorry that your baby book only has 3 pages filled out and a receipt from your 1 year well baby check while your sister has entire scrap books devoted to her first year of life.
5. Finally, I hope that your father and I are a good example of a healthy relationship and that you don't swear too much (just enough to make your point but not so much that you sound like a Jerry Springer guest). I hope that you are able to laugh easily and fight for underdogs. I hope that you are finding a purpose and can use your Minecraft skills for good. Maybe you can help build the colony on Mars? I hope you still love math and science and remember that smart girls are cool. I hope that you make decisions based on hope for the path they'll lead you down instead of fear. I hope that you'll explore the world and taste foods and see amazing things. I hope you know how much we love you.
 |
| We look really good in our new outfits. |
Most of all, I really, really, really hope that I have a freaking flying car.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
HARK!!!
Holy Crap, has it ever been a rough week. We have constantly been dealing with our sweet daughters turning into slobbering, angry, vengeful hell spawn-just antagonizing each other, fighting and causing me to turn into an evil harpy.
Finally, on the verge of a full on nervous breakdown, my husband suggested we talk about it and come up with a few words that we would like to exemplify our family. We talked with the kids and they helped us choose the following four words: Honesty, Accountability, Respect and Kindness. Next, we decided to paint the words on canvases to hang in the living room.
Hopefully this will cut down on some of the fighting-if not, my next vacation might just be to a locked room with padded walls!
Finally, on the verge of a full on nervous breakdown, my husband suggested we talk about it and come up with a few words that we would like to exemplify our family. We talked with the kids and they helped us choose the following four words: Honesty, Accountability, Respect and Kindness. Next, we decided to paint the words on canvases to hang in the living room.
Hopefully this will cut down on some of the fighting-if not, my next vacation might just be to a locked room with padded walls!
 |
| First, we painted our canvases with a background color and added a hand print to each one. |
 |
| Next, we added our words. |
 |
| We all added a little bit of "flair" to our canvas. |
 |
| The finished product! |
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
An Agnostic Tries to explain religion... to a 4 year old.
I just came across this unpublished post from 5 years ago-and had to publish it. Enjoy!
Being an Agnostic or Atheistic parent, I think, can be one of the most challenging ways to parent. We have had many discussions with our oldest daughter that turn out to be far more philosophical than I have initially expected.
For example, try explaining the meaning of Christmas, Easter or what happens after people die. If you aren't clear or don't believe than you run the risk of turning your child into immoral, consumerist, little bastards. At least, that's what I've been told before.
We've tackled Christmas with a little bit of explanation but I always end up going off on a side discussion about the various points of interest of other religions and how I don't even know what is true and what isn't and that the Bible is really just a collection of stories and how Jesus wasn't really even born on December 25th...and after about 20 minutes I look at Olivia and her eyes have rolled back in her head and she is looking so sorry that she even asked. We talked a little bit about Easter (but really, how on earth am I supposed to explain the Crucifixion and resurrection of Christ to a 4-year old? And even if you had a suggestion, I wouldn't want to try it.) So we talked, instead, about how spring is a time of rebirth and a time of new life. The sad part is, I wasn't even able to come up with that myself. I had to buy a book.
There are many tricks that parents of faith can use to keep their children in check. One is the "Hell" card. I don't get to use the "You can't do that because you will burn eternally in the fiery pits of Hell" argument. Although, there are some times I would like to. It's a hard card to play when you don't believe in Hell, though.
Another is the "Jesus died for your sins" card. That is one that will evoke feelings of guilt in most people, but, that is bullshit. Jesus was a good man, who was a political scapegoat. No one should feel guilty for what happened to someone else 2,000 years ago.
Five years later...
We still haven't figured this out but recent studies have come out showing that Atheist parents are kick-ass parents., so I guess we'll just keep doing what we're doing and they'll be okay.
Being an Agnostic or Atheistic parent, I think, can be one of the most challenging ways to parent. We have had many discussions with our oldest daughter that turn out to be far more philosophical than I have initially expected.
For example, try explaining the meaning of Christmas, Easter or what happens after people die. If you aren't clear or don't believe than you run the risk of turning your child into immoral, consumerist, little bastards. At least, that's what I've been told before.
We've tackled Christmas with a little bit of explanation but I always end up going off on a side discussion about the various points of interest of other religions and how I don't even know what is true and what isn't and that the Bible is really just a collection of stories and how Jesus wasn't really even born on December 25th...and after about 20 minutes I look at Olivia and her eyes have rolled back in her head and she is looking so sorry that she even asked. We talked a little bit about Easter (but really, how on earth am I supposed to explain the Crucifixion and resurrection of Christ to a 4-year old? And even if you had a suggestion, I wouldn't want to try it.) So we talked, instead, about how spring is a time of rebirth and a time of new life. The sad part is, I wasn't even able to come up with that myself. I had to buy a book.
There are many tricks that parents of faith can use to keep their children in check. One is the "Hell" card. I don't get to use the "You can't do that because you will burn eternally in the fiery pits of Hell" argument. Although, there are some times I would like to. It's a hard card to play when you don't believe in Hell, though.
Another is the "Jesus died for your sins" card. That is one that will evoke feelings of guilt in most people, but, that is bullshit. Jesus was a good man, who was a political scapegoat. No one should feel guilty for what happened to someone else 2,000 years ago.
Five years later...
We still haven't figured this out but recent studies have come out showing that Atheist parents are kick-ass parents., so I guess we'll just keep doing what we're doing and they'll be okay.
The Triumph and the Tragedy of Motherhood
Today was both a celebration and a gut punch. Being a mother is so extremely rewarding but, as a part of the reward for doing your job, you are reminded that your job is to make your children independent, strong, and not need you-or, at least, not always need you.
First the triumph-because I'll pretend that I have had a lot to do with that. My sweet, courageous daughters have been attending a cheering/tumbling camp this week, during school vacation. They are taking chances and doing things they've been scared to do and today my youngest (6 years old) volunteered to be in a contest and performed jumps and cartwheels in front of the whole camp-all of whom are older kids than her. That BLEW MY MIND. My eldest was tirelessly working to improve-hit her back handspring, perfect her cartwheel, learn new techniques so that she can be the best team mate she can be. I was the kid in high school who loved singing but constantly talked myself out of really auditioning for anything other than the chorus in the school musical (except for senior year). I was so scared of giving the wrong answer that I didn't raise my hand in class and I always chose my social life over really applying myself-just because I thought I couldn't do it. Then, here are my amazing daughters who have been just exceeding, addressing things, and volunteering to do extra. They are challenging themselves, they are accomplishing things, and they don't realize what a huge deal it is. They are not afraid! I don't know where that comes from. I am so in awe of what they have inside of their souls and can't even imagine where they will end up with that kind of courage. Imagine, if all of the girls weren't afraid to tackle math problems or climb mountains or be doctors or study climate change, the economy, be president. Imagine a GENERATION of Michelle Obamas, Hilary Clintons, Annie Oakleys. My job is to keep nourishing that flame and to encourage them to always be brave.
Now the flip side of the coin. I had heard rumours from an unnamed source that my 9 year old was really working hard to stop calling me mommy, and to start calling me mom. Tonight she was reading a book to her sister, and was replacing "mommy" with "mom" the whole way through. I went in to the room, intending to just tell her that I understood, that I remembered that thought, and as I was saying it, I started crying because I realize that it's time. She is growing up. She is closer to being a teen than a toddler, and is halfway to adulthood. I smiled at her, told her that I understood, that I was sorry I was crying, but that I understood. I told her that it was okay with me if she called me "mom" it wouldn't hurt my feelings, but that she could call me "mommy" whenever she wanted. We both cried, we both hugged, the six year old started crying, said that she still wanted to call me "mommy." One of us made a fart joke, we laughed about all the silly ways you can say "mommy" and I left the room with them giggling over Pinkalicious together.
That's the way of motherhood. The bittersweet, working-your-way-out-of-a-job reality of parenting. If you do it right, they're constantly challenging themselves, reaching out, yet strengthening those wings to leave the nest some day. I will always encourage them to stretch and grow, even as it makes me want to cling tighter and pull them back. For now, though, we'll just try to make it through the tween angst, teen rebellion, and I'll sit in awe of the women they're becoming.
First the triumph-because I'll pretend that I have had a lot to do with that. My sweet, courageous daughters have been attending a cheering/tumbling camp this week, during school vacation. They are taking chances and doing things they've been scared to do and today my youngest (6 years old) volunteered to be in a contest and performed jumps and cartwheels in front of the whole camp-all of whom are older kids than her. That BLEW MY MIND. My eldest was tirelessly working to improve-hit her back handspring, perfect her cartwheel, learn new techniques so that she can be the best team mate she can be. I was the kid in high school who loved singing but constantly talked myself out of really auditioning for anything other than the chorus in the school musical (except for senior year). I was so scared of giving the wrong answer that I didn't raise my hand in class and I always chose my social life over really applying myself-just because I thought I couldn't do it. Then, here are my amazing daughters who have been just exceeding, addressing things, and volunteering to do extra. They are challenging themselves, they are accomplishing things, and they don't realize what a huge deal it is. They are not afraid! I don't know where that comes from. I am so in awe of what they have inside of their souls and can't even imagine where they will end up with that kind of courage. Imagine, if all of the girls weren't afraid to tackle math problems or climb mountains or be doctors or study climate change, the economy, be president. Imagine a GENERATION of Michelle Obamas, Hilary Clintons, Annie Oakleys. My job is to keep nourishing that flame and to encourage them to always be brave.
Now the flip side of the coin. I had heard rumours from an unnamed source that my 9 year old was really working hard to stop calling me mommy, and to start calling me mom. Tonight she was reading a book to her sister, and was replacing "mommy" with "mom" the whole way through. I went in to the room, intending to just tell her that I understood, that I remembered that thought, and as I was saying it, I started crying because I realize that it's time. She is growing up. She is closer to being a teen than a toddler, and is halfway to adulthood. I smiled at her, told her that I understood, that I was sorry I was crying, but that I understood. I told her that it was okay with me if she called me "mom" it wouldn't hurt my feelings, but that she could call me "mommy" whenever she wanted. We both cried, we both hugged, the six year old started crying, said that she still wanted to call me "mommy." One of us made a fart joke, we laughed about all the silly ways you can say "mommy" and I left the room with them giggling over Pinkalicious together.
That's the way of motherhood. The bittersweet, working-your-way-out-of-a-job reality of parenting. If you do it right, they're constantly challenging themselves, reaching out, yet strengthening those wings to leave the nest some day. I will always encourage them to stretch and grow, even as it makes me want to cling tighter and pull them back. For now, though, we'll just try to make it through the tween angst, teen rebellion, and I'll sit in awe of the women they're becoming.
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