I love music. Music is a big part of my life. It shows up every day. I cannot remember a time in my life where there wasn't music. My siblings listened to music and I am pretty good at identifying 70's & 80's bands because of it. My parents always had music playing in the car. I know the Kingston Trio, Elvis, Cash, and Diamond.
My maternal grandparents played the guitar and piano. My grandfather sticks the tip of his tongue out the side of his mouth when he plays. It is adorable. I play the clarinet. Most of my family have beautiful singing voices. The Daughter plays the clarinet and is learning the guitar. The boys want to learn to play instruments. My Dark Knight plays bass and guitar. Music is clearly hereditary. Music is in my genes.
I enjoy almost all genre of music, except the steel guitar makes me cranky. Each type of music helps me through different moods or issues I may be having. When I am sad, I love listening to traditional hymns and love songs. These songs assist me to cry my eyes out while bringing a smile to my face. When I am frustrated, I need something loud and guitar heavy.
Music holds my memories. I cannot listen to a song or piece of music without remembering something from my past. Journey brings back a time when my high school best friend was learning to drive a manual transmission. Metallica was playing when I was a passenger in a car accident. Metallica is not allowed in the car because of the accident. Tom Petty is about old Ford pick-up trucks. I am reminded of a friend's laugh while driving to Vegas when I listen to Janis Joplin. Chris Ledoux reminds me of an ex-boyfriend. Nine-Inch-Nails is all about driving in the mountains finding a good camping spot. DC Talk brings back memories of driving around in a friend's pick-up.
Music makes me move. I love to dance. I dance while cleaning, with music blasting, singing my heart out. T has never been able to sit still when music is playing. He has had great rhythm since he could hold his head up. X-Man sings and grooves when he thinks no one is watching. MDK does this head thing I like to call the pigeon. It is fantastic! The Daughter has been moving and grooving since she was tiny. Even as I write this post, I am listening to music and have to move my foot to the beat.
I went on a date with a guy in college who stated he doesn't listen to music. "I'm sorry, what?" He stated he didn't really enjoy music. "This is clearly not going to work out. Have a good night." It was that simple, no music, no dating me. I also wouldn't date guys with terrible last names or if they have ever had a cold sore.
Hopefully you have something in your life as captivating as music is to me. I would never had made it through this year without music.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Scar Tissue (Yes, I do like the RHCP.)
I have a scar on my right calf that I have tried scar cream and vitamin E to lighten, but it will not lighten. It is the newest scar of my many scars but it is significant. This scar marks the ending of a relationship. I decided I will start with my first scar, April 18th, 1977, my belly button.
I was born on a bridge in Portland, OR in a Dodge, delivered by my father. Clearly we didn't make it to the hospital before I made my grand entrance into this world. Many people wanted to name me Rosalyn Bridgett, after the bridge, but I was told my dad wanted to name me Tara (Tar a road, not Tear a piece of paper).
I have a scar in my left eyebrow. It makes grooming my eyebrows a chore, never symmetrical, never. I fell face first into the coffee table and split my eyelid open, it grew into my eyebrow as I grew. My dad had to put butterfly strips on my eye for a week. Apparently, your one year old eyelid becomes your eyebrow.
When I was 7, I stopped myself on my bike using my right elbow instead of my breaks. My father heard me crash a block away. This scar is bumpy and ugly. My dad had to scrub gravel out of my elbow before bandaging it up. Two weeks of bandages because I split it open often. Seven year old's need to bend their elbows.
I contracted a nasty case of the chickenpox when I was in the 5th grade. I have 5 pock mark scars. My dad gave me a stuffed kangaroo with a joey in the pouch. The kangaroo was supposed to help me feel better, it didn't but it was a nice gesture.
I have many memories of my father assisting me with all my medical needs and he is attached to my scars left behind. So it seems appropriate to have received my most recent scar.
I received a phone call May 14th, 2014 at 10:15pm, caller ID stated Mom. Weird, my parents are old and go to bed at 8pm. I answered the call and it was my parents' neighbor. She told me my father had died. My mother was the sickly one, I am sure she meant my mother had died, not my father. My dad was strong and stubborn and needed, he couldn't possibly have died yet. My Dark Knight and I hopped in the car and drove to my parents' house. I know I called my sister, but I can't really remember what was said. I have very foggy memories regarding that night. But the neighbor was correct, my father had died.
We bring my mother to our house. Many people showed up and cleaned my parent's house, brought food and money, and many other wonderful things. My mom goes back home on the 16th and has a massive stroke. Now my parents' house needs to be cleaned out, my mom needs a guardian, my dad's services need to be coordinated, etc. My poor family had to function without me most of May through September. I spent every penny we had and worked little hours.
May 19th, I am cleaning out my parents' house and stop at the neighbor's house to pick up the mail they grabbed for me. They have a dog sitting down, ignoring me. I go to leave the neighboring house and that damn dog bit my calf. I have no idea what I did to provoke the dog since I never talked to the dog or messed with it at all. He bit through my jeans and took a small chunk out of my leg. The dog turned around and walked away. Clearly, he accomplished what he set out to do that day. Bite the grieving daughter from next door, check.
So, now I have a scar from the dog bite, another scar to remind me of my father. It is a humorous reminder of a terrible time. Who gets bit by a dog after her father dies and mother has a massive stroke? This girl! The dog bite was just the humor I needed to make it another day.
I never thought the scars I find ugly and a nuisance would be what reminds me of some good memories of my father. I am glad I have my battle scars, even if I can never have symmetrical eyebrows.
I was born on a bridge in Portland, OR in a Dodge, delivered by my father. Clearly we didn't make it to the hospital before I made my grand entrance into this world. Many people wanted to name me Rosalyn Bridgett, after the bridge, but I was told my dad wanted to name me Tara (Tar a road, not Tear a piece of paper).
I have a scar in my left eyebrow. It makes grooming my eyebrows a chore, never symmetrical, never. I fell face first into the coffee table and split my eyelid open, it grew into my eyebrow as I grew. My dad had to put butterfly strips on my eye for a week. Apparently, your one year old eyelid becomes your eyebrow.
When I was 7, I stopped myself on my bike using my right elbow instead of my breaks. My father heard me crash a block away. This scar is bumpy and ugly. My dad had to scrub gravel out of my elbow before bandaging it up. Two weeks of bandages because I split it open often. Seven year old's need to bend their elbows.
I contracted a nasty case of the chickenpox when I was in the 5th grade. I have 5 pock mark scars. My dad gave me a stuffed kangaroo with a joey in the pouch. The kangaroo was supposed to help me feel better, it didn't but it was a nice gesture.
I have many memories of my father assisting me with all my medical needs and he is attached to my scars left behind. So it seems appropriate to have received my most recent scar.
I received a phone call May 14th, 2014 at 10:15pm, caller ID stated Mom. Weird, my parents are old and go to bed at 8pm. I answered the call and it was my parents' neighbor. She told me my father had died. My mother was the sickly one, I am sure she meant my mother had died, not my father. My dad was strong and stubborn and needed, he couldn't possibly have died yet. My Dark Knight and I hopped in the car and drove to my parents' house. I know I called my sister, but I can't really remember what was said. I have very foggy memories regarding that night. But the neighbor was correct, my father had died.
We bring my mother to our house. Many people showed up and cleaned my parent's house, brought food and money, and many other wonderful things. My mom goes back home on the 16th and has a massive stroke. Now my parents' house needs to be cleaned out, my mom needs a guardian, my dad's services need to be coordinated, etc. My poor family had to function without me most of May through September. I spent every penny we had and worked little hours.
May 19th, I am cleaning out my parents' house and stop at the neighbor's house to pick up the mail they grabbed for me. They have a dog sitting down, ignoring me. I go to leave the neighboring house and that damn dog bit my calf. I have no idea what I did to provoke the dog since I never talked to the dog or messed with it at all. He bit through my jeans and took a small chunk out of my leg. The dog turned around and walked away. Clearly, he accomplished what he set out to do that day. Bite the grieving daughter from next door, check.
So, now I have a scar from the dog bite, another scar to remind me of my father. It is a humorous reminder of a terrible time. Who gets bit by a dog after her father dies and mother has a massive stroke? This girl! The dog bite was just the humor I needed to make it another day.
I never thought the scars I find ugly and a nuisance would be what reminds me of some good memories of my father. I am glad I have my battle scars, even if I can never have symmetrical eyebrows.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Being the youngest is the bestest.
I am the youngest in my family. Therefore, I am the favorite. It is a given, no explanations needed. My parents were seasoned parents when I came along. Most of my siblings were grown and out of the house by the time I was born. Some of them even forget me, the last child, because they are so much older. Yes, siblings, there are THREE girls in the family, quit forgetting about me. You know those memes stating they have the best sister? Well, I have two brothers who have posted that meme and stated they have TWO great sisters. Two? Who are you forgetting? Most likely it is me. Even though I am forgotten and had the least involved parents, I still believe being the youngest is the best.
1. Hand-me-downs. I know they are outdated and stained by the time you get them, but they are free clothes and you learn how to update your fashions with whatever you have got in the closet. You also don't feel bad if you dye the clothes or rip them up because they were free and you don't have to keep them in good shape because no one else is going to wear them.
2. Money. Once all those older siblings leave the home, the bank account increases. You want that new bike, no problem. Going out to lunch with friends, here's $20. New to you car, what color do you want?
3. Parents are tired. Always able to do whatever you wanted because the parents were too tired to care. My parents were never around, so I got to do whatever I wanted anyway, but you get the point.
4. Responsibilities are non-existent. Never having to take responsibility for anything. She's the baby, the sweet baby. She could do no wrong.
5. The Star. Getting attention, and keeping attention is easy. Rarely having to compromise, mostly getting your way. "It is all about me!" This also comes in handy when wanting to sell anything, idea, merchandise, job interviews. Very good skill.
6. Glass half full. The baby is rarely negative due to life experiences. It is really easy to be positive when your siblings have gotten into trouble for everything and you have not.
Here are a few "issues" I may have due to being the youngest.
1. I am incredibly irresponsible. I have learned to be much more responsible from MDK (the oldest in his family). I didn't become an unwed mother at a young age by making responsible choices.
2. I am a sore loser. I pout and stomp and huff and puff. I despise losing.
3. I have a hard time taking things seriously. I try to make bad stuff into funny situations. I think this is good sometimes, though.
4. (This one isn't necessarily an issue but it was something I had to overcome because I am the youngest.) The high school teachers already knew who I was before I stepped foot into their classrooms. "Oh, you are so & so's baby sister." I was proud to say I was the little sister. That is when the teacher would point out what a pain they were. Suddenly I have to be 10 times better because of the example before me. Thanks siblings!
I think being the youngest is awesome and I feel bad for all you middle and oldest children. Childhood had to have been rough.
1. Hand-me-downs. I know they are outdated and stained by the time you get them, but they are free clothes and you learn how to update your fashions with whatever you have got in the closet. You also don't feel bad if you dye the clothes or rip them up because they were free and you don't have to keep them in good shape because no one else is going to wear them.
2. Money. Once all those older siblings leave the home, the bank account increases. You want that new bike, no problem. Going out to lunch with friends, here's $20. New to you car, what color do you want?
3. Parents are tired. Always able to do whatever you wanted because the parents were too tired to care. My parents were never around, so I got to do whatever I wanted anyway, but you get the point.
4. Responsibilities are non-existent. Never having to take responsibility for anything. She's the baby, the sweet baby. She could do no wrong.
5. The Star. Getting attention, and keeping attention is easy. Rarely having to compromise, mostly getting your way. "It is all about me!" This also comes in handy when wanting to sell anything, idea, merchandise, job interviews. Very good skill.
6. Glass half full. The baby is rarely negative due to life experiences. It is really easy to be positive when your siblings have gotten into trouble for everything and you have not.
Here are a few "issues" I may have due to being the youngest.
1. I am incredibly irresponsible. I have learned to be much more responsible from MDK (the oldest in his family). I didn't become an unwed mother at a young age by making responsible choices.
2. I am a sore loser. I pout and stomp and huff and puff. I despise losing.
3. I have a hard time taking things seriously. I try to make bad stuff into funny situations. I think this is good sometimes, though.
4. (This one isn't necessarily an issue but it was something I had to overcome because I am the youngest.) The high school teachers already knew who I was before I stepped foot into their classrooms. "Oh, you are so & so's baby sister." I was proud to say I was the little sister. That is when the teacher would point out what a pain they were. Suddenly I have to be 10 times better because of the example before me. Thanks siblings!
I think being the youngest is awesome and I feel bad for all you middle and oldest children. Childhood had to have been rough.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
I am searching for my joy.
I am being a Scrooge/Grinch this year for Christmas. I am just not in the spirit of Christmas this year. Everything I see reminds me of what I have lost this year. I am not normally like this. I enjoy watching my kids visit Santa, putting up the tree, decorating, the cookies, the parties, the music, the movies, and the excitement in my children on Christmas morning. Normally. Not this year.
We put up the tree two days after Thanksgiving. I didn't pull everything out of the Christmas boxes. I only grabbed the stuff my kids insisted needed to be out. I started hiding stuff back in the boxes before they could see it so I didn't have to bring it out. I did complete a wreath project I have been wanting to do for a couple of years. It felt nice to have something that has no ties to any memories. Plus, it is freaking adorable.
I went to my church's Christmas party for the women. This is something I go to every year. I love this event and am chomping at the bit waiting for this event, normally. The Daughter decided not to go with me this year so I took T. I know he is not a female but I wasn't sure if I was going to make it without some support. T wanted to go home shortly after we arrived because someone commented about him being a boy and it was a party for girls. I was very tempted to leave. One of my friends came and sat with me and started talking about everything but Christmas and it was nice, so we stayed. The party usually has a mug exchange game. Inside the mug you bring, you write on a piece of paper your name and birthday. Whomever gets your mug prays for you every time they use the mug in that year. (I have three mugs from the same person and she happens to be a good friend.) I love this because I remember who's mugs I received each year and what I prayed for them. It gives me a purpose for my mug more than just to drink out of. This year the mug I received was from a guest and she didn't want to participate in the name/praying part. This broke my heart and I cried driving home. Now I just have a mug that isn't special to me. I will probably re-gift it.
I took X-Man and T to the local Home Depot yesterday to participate in the children's project. They made garden stakes with three different designs on them. They are cute and were very simple. They reminded me that my dad would grow a big garden every year and allow my kids to pick what was planted. He would have loved these garden stakes and would have put them proudly in his garden.
Afterward, we went to the zoo because it was free yesterday. It was raining pretty hard at the zoo but not too cold. Santa was at the zoo in an education building which has big windows looking out to the the lions. We stood out in the rain in line to see Santa. Everyone in front of us had strollers with babies, many brand new, unable to hold their heads up. I couldn't understand why these parents were standing in the rain waiting for Santa. Do you remember that photo all over the internet last year with sleeping Santa and the sleeping infant on Santa? That happened at the mall where I live. That Santa knows what he is doing. Take your newbies to the mall, out of the rain with the seasoned Santa. The zoo Santa didn't know how to hold the infants and was very young under that suit. He was struggling but did okay and was very pleasant. My boys just wanted to talk to Santa and see the lions who were right next to the windows. The staff wouldn't let you look at the lions because you could get a picture of Santa if you were by the windows. Each staff member reminded me I was absolutely not to take my own photo of Santa. I had to explain 8 times that my boys just wanted to talk to Santa.
We finally get to Santa! Don't worry, I did not take my camera out of my purse the whole time. (I really need a sarcasm font.) T goes first, he wants a video game. He stated he was a good boy except to his brother who deserves it and brings it on himself. He let Santa know that it was his decision if he was on the naughty or nice list, not T's. (This did make me smile.) X-Man goes next, he wants The World Record Paper Airplane Package and a cursive book, which he practiced saying the whole time we were in line. He states he is a good boy and wishes him a Merry Christmas and we walk out the door. T turns to X-Man and lets him know that guy was just some guy in a Santa suit, not really Santa, he didn't even have a mouth because of his fake beard. X-Man didn't let that deter him from believing he met Santa.
I can't listen to Christmas songs or watch my favorite Christmas movie, A Charlie Brown Christmas. Everything reminds me of my parents. Many of my friends still live in my home town and posted videos of the Christmas parade. I didn't know how much I missed the intimate experience of a small town parade. My parents always watched the parades no matter the weather. (It probably helped the parade route went right in front of the bars.) The friends I lost this year were always in the parades with me growing up. But I loved watching my friends' videos and seeing people I knew, even 20 years after I moved away.
The boys have decided they want to host a Christmas party for their friends this year. This is new and I am very excited to start something new, just like my wreath, no memories yet. I am excited to make a craft, have snacks, and exchange gifts at our home with all these little children. (I am also excited that we have very little money to spend, so it will be a simple affair.) I will have friends attend as well, which will be nice, and new. I may not be able to make it through all of this year's Christmas festivities without shedding a tear, but I think making new memories will help the Christmas season to be less painful. Who said Christmas needed to be painless, anyway? I am pretty sure the first Christmas was very painful with joy mixed in.
We put up the tree two days after Thanksgiving. I didn't pull everything out of the Christmas boxes. I only grabbed the stuff my kids insisted needed to be out. I started hiding stuff back in the boxes before they could see it so I didn't have to bring it out. I did complete a wreath project I have been wanting to do for a couple of years. It felt nice to have something that has no ties to any memories. Plus, it is freaking adorable.
I went to my church's Christmas party for the women. This is something I go to every year. I love this event and am chomping at the bit waiting for this event, normally. The Daughter decided not to go with me this year so I took T. I know he is not a female but I wasn't sure if I was going to make it without some support. T wanted to go home shortly after we arrived because someone commented about him being a boy and it was a party for girls. I was very tempted to leave. One of my friends came and sat with me and started talking about everything but Christmas and it was nice, so we stayed. The party usually has a mug exchange game. Inside the mug you bring, you write on a piece of paper your name and birthday. Whomever gets your mug prays for you every time they use the mug in that year. (I have three mugs from the same person and she happens to be a good friend.) I love this because I remember who's mugs I received each year and what I prayed for them. It gives me a purpose for my mug more than just to drink out of. This year the mug I received was from a guest and she didn't want to participate in the name/praying part. This broke my heart and I cried driving home. Now I just have a mug that isn't special to me. I will probably re-gift it.
I took X-Man and T to the local Home Depot yesterday to participate in the children's project. They made garden stakes with three different designs on them. They are cute and were very simple. They reminded me that my dad would grow a big garden every year and allow my kids to pick what was planted. He would have loved these garden stakes and would have put them proudly in his garden.
Afterward, we went to the zoo because it was free yesterday. It was raining pretty hard at the zoo but not too cold. Santa was at the zoo in an education building which has big windows looking out to the the lions. We stood out in the rain in line to see Santa. Everyone in front of us had strollers with babies, many brand new, unable to hold their heads up. I couldn't understand why these parents were standing in the rain waiting for Santa. Do you remember that photo all over the internet last year with sleeping Santa and the sleeping infant on Santa? That happened at the mall where I live. That Santa knows what he is doing. Take your newbies to the mall, out of the rain with the seasoned Santa. The zoo Santa didn't know how to hold the infants and was very young under that suit. He was struggling but did okay and was very pleasant. My boys just wanted to talk to Santa and see the lions who were right next to the windows. The staff wouldn't let you look at the lions because you could get a picture of Santa if you were by the windows. Each staff member reminded me I was absolutely not to take my own photo of Santa. I had to explain 8 times that my boys just wanted to talk to Santa.
We finally get to Santa! Don't worry, I did not take my camera out of my purse the whole time. (I really need a sarcasm font.) T goes first, he wants a video game. He stated he was a good boy except to his brother who deserves it and brings it on himself. He let Santa know that it was his decision if he was on the naughty or nice list, not T's. (This did make me smile.) X-Man goes next, he wants The World Record Paper Airplane Package and a cursive book, which he practiced saying the whole time we were in line. He states he is a good boy and wishes him a Merry Christmas and we walk out the door. T turns to X-Man and lets him know that guy was just some guy in a Santa suit, not really Santa, he didn't even have a mouth because of his fake beard. X-Man didn't let that deter him from believing he met Santa.
I can't listen to Christmas songs or watch my favorite Christmas movie, A Charlie Brown Christmas. Everything reminds me of my parents. Many of my friends still live in my home town and posted videos of the Christmas parade. I didn't know how much I missed the intimate experience of a small town parade. My parents always watched the parades no matter the weather. (It probably helped the parade route went right in front of the bars.) The friends I lost this year were always in the parades with me growing up. But I loved watching my friends' videos and seeing people I knew, even 20 years after I moved away.
The boys have decided they want to host a Christmas party for their friends this year. This is new and I am very excited to start something new, just like my wreath, no memories yet. I am excited to make a craft, have snacks, and exchange gifts at our home with all these little children. (I am also excited that we have very little money to spend, so it will be a simple affair.) I will have friends attend as well, which will be nice, and new. I may not be able to make it through all of this year's Christmas festivities without shedding a tear, but I think making new memories will help the Christmas season to be less painful. Who said Christmas needed to be painless, anyway? I am pretty sure the first Christmas was very painful with joy mixed in.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
You are so ignorant. Thanks, Mom.
I am going to rant a bit and you can opt out of reading. You have been warned...
I have established I am a Christian, I attend church, and I find it important in my life. I went to a Christian college and I feel I am educated. I grew up in Nevada and was exposed to many different lifestyles and beliefs. I do not feel these lifestyles or beliefs changed my faith or relationship with Christ. I learned about the theory of evolution throughout school, including the Christian college I attended. Is it what I believe, no, but I do not think others need to believe in the theory of creation to be educated about it. I have a strong belief in being educated about the world around you. I believe I am a better person for knowing about other theories and beliefs.
I also took a class in college about Eastern religions. It was only one class and I am sure I only learned a very small amount, but I loved learning what others believe and why they believe it. Also, other religions have a direct impact on my religion and I what to know why and what those impacts are. Plus, why are so many different religious sects fighting over land consisting of dirt and rocks in the Middle East? Have you seen the Middle East? I want to know more about the bloody past of Christianity. I know a bit but there is more to learn. In my job I work with many different people with many different faiths. I had to train a direct care staff in the early morning one time and I knew she was Muslim. Because I have been educated in this religion, I knew the breakfast sandwich I was going to bring her couldn't have pork in it. My knowledge helped me to make the training experience more enjoyable. She didn't have to explain why she couldn't eat the sandwich and we didn't have to veer from our objective. "Here, I brought you breakfast to thank you for filling in so early in the morning. Let's get started."
I have encountered many people who are so angry about an Islamic church moving in down the street from where I live. I have heard they are terrorists and are here to make a plan to bring down America. Really? Another person stated he needs to take the fighter jet he pilots and bomb them while they were at church. Wow. These type of statements are not beliefs I want to be exposed to because they break my heart. I do not feel more educated, I feel pain. Why is there so much hate in these people?
Did you know many people in the Christian church do not believe women should be pastors? As if having breasts and a vagina makes someone unable to be called to ministry and preach the word of God. I do not have a limit on the God I know and He is able to use all beings for his purpose.
I would like people to look at others with love. Let's learn about how others think and believe. I know why I believe what I believe and it isn't because someone told me to believe it. I know what is out there to believe in and I have chosen my belief system. Yes, they may not be what you believe, but that is okay. Do I believe in evolution? No, but it is fascinating to hear why you do. Do you believe in the Holy Spirit? No, will you let me tell you why I do? Take me out for coffee and I will talk your ear off about whatever comes up. I love getting to know people and why they tick the way they do.
I have established I am a Christian, I attend church, and I find it important in my life. I went to a Christian college and I feel I am educated. I grew up in Nevada and was exposed to many different lifestyles and beliefs. I do not feel these lifestyles or beliefs changed my faith or relationship with Christ. I learned about the theory of evolution throughout school, including the Christian college I attended. Is it what I believe, no, but I do not think others need to believe in the theory of creation to be educated about it. I have a strong belief in being educated about the world around you. I believe I am a better person for knowing about other theories and beliefs.
I also took a class in college about Eastern religions. It was only one class and I am sure I only learned a very small amount, but I loved learning what others believe and why they believe it. Also, other religions have a direct impact on my religion and I what to know why and what those impacts are. Plus, why are so many different religious sects fighting over land consisting of dirt and rocks in the Middle East? Have you seen the Middle East? I want to know more about the bloody past of Christianity. I know a bit but there is more to learn. In my job I work with many different people with many different faiths. I had to train a direct care staff in the early morning one time and I knew she was Muslim. Because I have been educated in this religion, I knew the breakfast sandwich I was going to bring her couldn't have pork in it. My knowledge helped me to make the training experience more enjoyable. She didn't have to explain why she couldn't eat the sandwich and we didn't have to veer from our objective. "Here, I brought you breakfast to thank you for filling in so early in the morning. Let's get started."
I have encountered many people who are so angry about an Islamic church moving in down the street from where I live. I have heard they are terrorists and are here to make a plan to bring down America. Really? Another person stated he needs to take the fighter jet he pilots and bomb them while they were at church. Wow. These type of statements are not beliefs I want to be exposed to because they break my heart. I do not feel more educated, I feel pain. Why is there so much hate in these people?
Did you know many people in the Christian church do not believe women should be pastors? As if having breasts and a vagina makes someone unable to be called to ministry and preach the word of God. I do not have a limit on the God I know and He is able to use all beings for his purpose.
I would like people to look at others with love. Let's learn about how others think and believe. I know why I believe what I believe and it isn't because someone told me to believe it. I know what is out there to believe in and I have chosen my belief system. Yes, they may not be what you believe, but that is okay. Do I believe in evolution? No, but it is fascinating to hear why you do. Do you believe in the Holy Spirit? No, will you let me tell you why I do? Take me out for coffee and I will talk your ear off about whatever comes up. I love getting to know people and why they tick the way they do.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Those poor turkeys!
Thanksgiving, when I was growing up, wasn't the best time. My parents would be around long enough to eat turkey and after would head to the bar. We never said what we were thankful for or had family come into town. I would watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and play outside. That was it! It wasn't anything special.
In college, I had music performances over Thanksgiving break so I stayed on campus during break. Many of my friends were very unhappy about having to miss Thanksgiving with their families. I didn't understand what the big deal was. Couldn't they just eat dinner with family next weekend? A couple Thanksgivings, I was invited to the house of a friend. They would have so many people over, it was a chaotic day. I enjoyed being at someone's home, but I did feel a little out of place. I wasn't sure what was expected of me so I just ate and helped clean after the meal.
As an adult with The Daughter, I would go to a friend's house for a couple of years. My parents moved near me and I would have Thanksgiving dinner with them, When My Dark Knight's mother moved to town, we would have dinner over at her house. Some years we would travel to MDK's childhood town and have Thanksgiving with his family.
This year, we are having Thanksgiving at home, just us, no visitors or extended family. It is nice. I am able to wear whatever I want and everything is gluten free and I don't have to worry about getting sick. I can have leftovers too! If I become sad because all the holidays are making me sad this year, I can cry in my home. MDK can watch his Bears play football without any interruptions. We can have autism meltdowns at home. The Daughter can listen to her music, her loud, screaming music. These are the things I am very thankful for! I am very lucky to have a home filled with crazy love. We are not traditional but we are wonderful.
Monday, November 17, 2014
The miserable have no other medicine But only hope: I've hope to live, and am prepared to die. - Claudio
Thought I would bring a little class to the post today. So, a little Shakespeare from Measure for Measure, Act 3, Scene 1 is the name of this post. Classiness!
So let's talk about death. Just in 2014, January, both our guinea pigs (6 years old) died of old age. April is when I lost my high school mentor. May, I lost my dad (diabetes complications), a high school friend and her daughter (car accident), and an acquaintance from high school (accident). June, a friend's older sister died who I adored (medical complications). September, my mom died (pneumonia). October, a cousin died from cancer. I am very familiar with death at this point.
Death is one of those topics that make people very uncomfortable. Let's get uncomfortable! Death is inevitable and it needs to be prepared for. I figured I would give a list of some of the items of what I have learned this year regarding life and death.
1. Pets, no matter how small, become family and it sucks when they die. I knew it was coming and held each guinea pig as they passed away. I tried to make them feel loved because it is what I want when my time comes.
2. Always try to be a friend to those around you. You never know what people are going through privately and your friendship could make or break them.
3. Listen to your doctor when he gives you medical advice. I know they can be wrong sometimes, but most of the time your physician wants you to live a rich and fulfilling life. Plus, you are paying them for their expertise, might as well use it.
4. Always wear your seat belt. Always. The worst that could happen is you die anyway. The best that can happen is you go home to your family. Your percentage of living through a car accident is much higher if you wear a seat belt.
5. Make good choices. I know this one seems to be a no-brainer, but it needs to be said often. When angry, a good choice may be what saves you.
6. Listen to your body. If something isn't right, take action.
7. If you are not prepared for emergencies and death, someone else will have to make the decisions for you. Think of your spouse and children. Those closest to you need to have the opportunity to grieve and just be, not make the toughest decisions of their life. (Choose the people who will follow through on your decisions.)
8. Negotiate the price with the funeral home director. If you need a lower price, just ask if they can meet you closer to what you can pay. Keep in mind, the funeral home needs to make money to continue their business, so don't be unreasonable. You will be back, eventually, so be a good client. See #7 on how to make this easier for your family.
9. Talk with your family about your plans and where you keep the documents. Talking about death and preparation does not cause death, that I have heard of. I have been talking about what I want when I die for 7 months. Still here.
10. Life insurance. Death is SO expensive for those left to pick up the pieces. Even a small policy will help.
11. When you give gifts to those grieving, bring items that do not require work. Money, finger foods, fresh fruit and veggies, gift cards for common restaurants, etc. I am so thankful for those who helped me by cleaning. It can be incredibly overwhelming when faced with the list of items that need to be completed. Someone stepping in and helping, or taking over, a cleaning project can be the biggest relief. Being able to run into my house and grabbing some carrots and an apple before I had to meet with the funeral director is exactly what I needed to make it a few more hours. I did not have time to sit down and eat. A gift card to Wendy's helped feed my family when we had to run around.
12. Try to be forgiving. I was unable to call people back or I would forget. If I had a moment to sit and not make any decisions, I just wanted to veg on the couch or take a bath. I gave up on thank you notes by the time my mom died. I hope I didn't upset anyone.
13. Let people help you! Do not be prideful during this time. No one cares if your house is a mess or you are wearing the same pair of pants all week, they are there to help and it just shows they love you.
14. If you tell me that it is okay because my loved one is in a better place, I may not be very thankful. Right now, the better place is still here with me, alive and well. A better thing to say, "I am so sorry you are going though this and I will be here for you until you tell me to go."
So let's talk about death. Just in 2014, January, both our guinea pigs (6 years old) died of old age. April is when I lost my high school mentor. May, I lost my dad (diabetes complications), a high school friend and her daughter (car accident), and an acquaintance from high school (accident). June, a friend's older sister died who I adored (medical complications). September, my mom died (pneumonia). October, a cousin died from cancer. I am very familiar with death at this point.
Death is one of those topics that make people very uncomfortable. Let's get uncomfortable! Death is inevitable and it needs to be prepared for. I figured I would give a list of some of the items of what I have learned this year regarding life and death.
1. Pets, no matter how small, become family and it sucks when they die. I knew it was coming and held each guinea pig as they passed away. I tried to make them feel loved because it is what I want when my time comes.
2. Always try to be a friend to those around you. You never know what people are going through privately and your friendship could make or break them.
3. Listen to your doctor when he gives you medical advice. I know they can be wrong sometimes, but most of the time your physician wants you to live a rich and fulfilling life. Plus, you are paying them for their expertise, might as well use it.
4. Always wear your seat belt. Always. The worst that could happen is you die anyway. The best that can happen is you go home to your family. Your percentage of living through a car accident is much higher if you wear a seat belt.
5. Make good choices. I know this one seems to be a no-brainer, but it needs to be said often. When angry, a good choice may be what saves you.
6. Listen to your body. If something isn't right, take action.
7. If you are not prepared for emergencies and death, someone else will have to make the decisions for you. Think of your spouse and children. Those closest to you need to have the opportunity to grieve and just be, not make the toughest decisions of their life. (Choose the people who will follow through on your decisions.)
8. Negotiate the price with the funeral home director. If you need a lower price, just ask if they can meet you closer to what you can pay. Keep in mind, the funeral home needs to make money to continue their business, so don't be unreasonable. You will be back, eventually, so be a good client. See #7 on how to make this easier for your family.
9. Talk with your family about your plans and where you keep the documents. Talking about death and preparation does not cause death, that I have heard of. I have been talking about what I want when I die for 7 months. Still here.
10. Life insurance. Death is SO expensive for those left to pick up the pieces. Even a small policy will help.
11. When you give gifts to those grieving, bring items that do not require work. Money, finger foods, fresh fruit and veggies, gift cards for common restaurants, etc. I am so thankful for those who helped me by cleaning. It can be incredibly overwhelming when faced with the list of items that need to be completed. Someone stepping in and helping, or taking over, a cleaning project can be the biggest relief. Being able to run into my house and grabbing some carrots and an apple before I had to meet with the funeral director is exactly what I needed to make it a few more hours. I did not have time to sit down and eat. A gift card to Wendy's helped feed my family when we had to run around.
12. Try to be forgiving. I was unable to call people back or I would forget. If I had a moment to sit and not make any decisions, I just wanted to veg on the couch or take a bath. I gave up on thank you notes by the time my mom died. I hope I didn't upset anyone.
13. Let people help you! Do not be prideful during this time. No one cares if your house is a mess or you are wearing the same pair of pants all week, they are there to help and it just shows they love you.
14. If you tell me that it is okay because my loved one is in a better place, I may not be very thankful. Right now, the better place is still here with me, alive and well. A better thing to say, "I am so sorry you are going though this and I will be here for you until you tell me to go."
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
This is a random post. I am procrastinating on the posts I should be sharing. I promise the next one will be more exciting or it might make you cry.
I attended my 15 year college reunion last week. I attended a christian college. My family encouraged me to go to church growing up, if I chose to. My parents did not attend church. I tried out many different denominations. I would go to church by myself or with a friend if invited.
I have felt the presence of God as long as I can remember. I know it sounds crazy or weird. I can only describe it as feeling love inside my being. Being hugged in love. I did not have much love or affection growing up from my family, but I felt loved, always.
I decided the Nazarene doctrine most described my personal belief system. I started attending the Nazarene church regularly. Where I grew up, the Nazarene church had about 15 people and two were teenagers. There was no youth group and I had to find one somewhere else.
I went to a non-denominational youth group. It was at the house of a family, not in a church. We would meet weekly and read scripture and discuss. The message I always heard was hate. So many times the message circled around a sinner, being condemned, and going to hell. A list started and kept growing of things I couldn't do or I was going to go to hell. We never discussed growth or love. It was very difficult to follow all the rules.
When I started looking at colleges to attend, my father stated NNC was a good college and I already had a friend at NNC. I applied to many colleges and was accepted. My father stated he would pay for college if I went to NNC. So, I went to NNC.
NNC had a curfew for freshman. I have never had a curfew in my life. I have always done what I wanted and came and went when I wanted. I would push curfew at college just because I was told I had to be home at a certain time. I had to take religious classes. Since I did not have the background as most of the other students, I had to learn everything, even basic Bible stories. I would answer basic biblical questions with stupid answers. Students would laugh at me in class and my first roommate would run around telling everyone my stupid answers. It was so hard. Feeling love wasn't going to get me through college. BTW, manna was the food given to God's chosen people, not Esau.
I changed my major from music, to English education, to social work. My dad let me know that professions in social service, like social work, do not pay well. But I wanted to change the world, I told him. He was right, it doesn't pay well, but I believe I am making a difference in my little world.
I became pregnant with The Daughter my senior year at NNC. Some of my friends discontinued our friendship when this happened, but many continued to love me.
I met some incredible people at NNC. I did earn a degree in social work. I feel more confident in my Bible knowledge. I learned to allow people to be where they are in life and help them along if they ask. I learned to love more.
Stuff I learned because of NNC: Do not stay out until curfew, you will be so tired in class. Always talk to your professors if you have any questions or concerns. The professors are wanting you to do your best and will help you when you need it. College chaplain are awesome. Reach out and make friends with everyone, no matter their major, or if they play basketball. Participate in as many activities on campus as possible.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Halloween is weird.
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(Tara as a witch for Halloween, sometime in the 80's. The party was at a casino.)
I was raised in Nevada and October 31st is Nevada Day, the day Nevada became a state in 1864. Happy 150th birthday Nevada! We always had the day off of school and work. Banks and the post office were closed. It was a VERY big deal. Carson City always has a parade each year. When I was in high school, we went to Carson City every year for the Nevada Day Parade. I was a part of the band and colorguard (flags). We would march in the parade and won first every year I was in school. Coincidence? I think not! There was an elephant in the parade and I did not enjoy the elephant if he was in the parade before I was. Elephants leave very large messes on the road.
I went to Idaho for college. I was pumped for a day off in October. October started off good, the middle was going well, and I re-read my syllabus again. Wait, does it state I have class on October 31st? Hold on! I am pretty sure this is a mistake. I asked a professor why there appears to be class on Halloween. He let me know that Halloween is not a holiday. I argued with him that, yes, I always had Halloween off of school. Apparently, Nevada is the only state that celebrates Nevada Day correctly. Everyone else dresses up and goes trick-or-treating AFTER work and school. What?! Now, I have lived in Idaho for 19 years. I still consider myself a girl from Nevada and try to take Halloween off of work. I don't do anything special, just let myself have a Nevada Day.
This year The Daughter went off to a Halloween party at a friend's house, X-man dressed up as Iron Man, and T dressed up as a box. Yes, a box. Like a Box Troll, you ask? Nope, just a box. He comes to me and states he has spoken to many people and he believes being a box for Halloween is a good idea. My mom had bought a Captain America costume a few years ago and I really wanted him to wear it again this year because it would probably be the last year he could wear it and I really needed him to wear this costume. I finally folded and went with the box costume.
While we were out asking strangers for candy, T would drop something and try to pick it up and it was very funny. He couldn't bend or walk up stairs very well. He would ring the doorbell, say "trick-or-treat", and the people handing out candy would ask, "Are you a box?", with a confused look on their face. He seemed to get an extra piece of candy at each house. That poor child who couldn't afford a costume.
Halloween means something different to me but, I have grown to really appreciate Halloween in Idaho because of my kids. They love Halloween even though they had to go to school. They love dressing up as cats, superheroes, pumpkins, and even a box.
This year, Halloween was a good time. I really needed a good Halloween!
Bonus: A friend of mine took a picture of the current band and colorguard from my old high school in the Nevada Day Parade this year. It made me smile the rest of the day. Watch out for the elephant!
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
I love my poop makers. #2
When X-Man was nine months, I became pregnant with the youngest in my family, T. (I was going to call him the Baby but he is the farthest from that description.) When I found out I was pregnant again, I cried and cried and banished My Dark Knight to the couch forever, or until he had a vasectomy. I already had a baby who cried and never slept. I did not, could not, go through this times two.
The Daughter was present when I delivered T and she has forever stated she will adopt, this experience just wrote it in stone. I have the best OB/GYN and he had her front and center in the middle of all the action. She was mortified! It was great!
T slept through the night very early on. He was independent and happy. He rarely cried. He was very advanced in developmental skills. It was so different from the child previous. Thank God!
T helped X-Man learn new skills and we saw improvement with him since having T. He was X-Man's first friend.
T was very different from any of the other children. He had rhythm before he could crawl. This boy loves music! He is feisty. And by feisty, I mean a tornado ripping through our home, taking control of everything and everyone in his path. He knows what he wants and he will let you know.
I took X-Man and T to the zoo when T was a year and a half. I had bought X-Man a grilled cheese sandwich and some fries for T. X-Man was crying because the grilled cheese was cut in half and he wanted it uncut. T was eyeing a goose who was coming close. The goose stole a fry. T grabbed the goose by the throat screaming, "that's my fry" at the goose. The goose flapped his wings trying to get away but T held on. We were quite the sight at the zoo. One child crying because he didn't want his grilled cheese cut and one wrestling a goose.
T is very confident he is the best at everything. He loves a challenge. He will try anything, especially if it is dangerous. I can barely believe he has not broken a bone or needed stitches. He is a talker. He will let everyone around him know what is on his mind. He makes friends with everyone he encounters. And he drives me crazy!
T is probably the child with the personality closest to mine. The Daughter is a close second but she is more reserved. T is sassy. T talks back. T speaks his mind. T is a lot of personality. He makes me madder than a hatter. I believe there is only room for one of us in this house. One minute he makes me want to move out and the very next minute he is exactly what I needed. He can be cuddling with you one minute and turn to fart on you the next. I love this kid!
T has made my life such an adventure. Some adventures are not ones I wanted to go on but I am better because of him. He has helped with X-Man more than anyone in the house could have done. And, boy, T is cute! He was an ugly baby but has turned into a beautiful boy. T has helped me to remember to love everyone, even if they do make me crazy.
The Daughter was present when I delivered T and she has forever stated she will adopt, this experience just wrote it in stone. I have the best OB/GYN and he had her front and center in the middle of all the action. She was mortified! It was great!
T slept through the night very early on. He was independent and happy. He rarely cried. He was very advanced in developmental skills. It was so different from the child previous. Thank God!
T helped X-Man learn new skills and we saw improvement with him since having T. He was X-Man's first friend.
T was very different from any of the other children. He had rhythm before he could crawl. This boy loves music! He is feisty. And by feisty, I mean a tornado ripping through our home, taking control of everything and everyone in his path. He knows what he wants and he will let you know.
I took X-Man and T to the zoo when T was a year and a half. I had bought X-Man a grilled cheese sandwich and some fries for T. X-Man was crying because the grilled cheese was cut in half and he wanted it uncut. T was eyeing a goose who was coming close. The goose stole a fry. T grabbed the goose by the throat screaming, "that's my fry" at the goose. The goose flapped his wings trying to get away but T held on. We were quite the sight at the zoo. One child crying because he didn't want his grilled cheese cut and one wrestling a goose.
T is very confident he is the best at everything. He loves a challenge. He will try anything, especially if it is dangerous. I can barely believe he has not broken a bone or needed stitches. He is a talker. He will let everyone around him know what is on his mind. He makes friends with everyone he encounters. And he drives me crazy!
T is probably the child with the personality closest to mine. The Daughter is a close second but she is more reserved. T is sassy. T talks back. T speaks his mind. T is a lot of personality. He makes me madder than a hatter. I believe there is only room for one of us in this house. One minute he makes me want to move out and the very next minute he is exactly what I needed. He can be cuddling with you one minute and turn to fart on you the next. I love this kid!
T has made my life such an adventure. Some adventures are not ones I wanted to go on but I am better because of him. He has helped with X-Man more than anyone in the house could have done. And, boy, T is cute! He was an ugly baby but has turned into a beautiful boy. T has helped me to remember to love everyone, even if they do make me crazy.
Friday, October 24, 2014
I love my poop makers. Part one...
My X-Man is 8 years old. He is the sweetest, most genuine person I have ever met. I love him to pieces, but he is difficult. X-Man has Autism with many typical symptoms plus medical issues with his eyes. So, basically he has no social skills and limited vision. He is the one running into you at the store and doesn't say excuse me. :)
He was a terrible baby. He cried all the time. He rarely slept. There was nothing diagnosed to get help for. I had to hold him constantly. Really, constantly. He didn't want to be with anyone else, ever. Not even, My Dark Knight, AKA My Sexy Man (which is what he would like to be referred to from now on in my blog).
Parents I barely knew would notice I was tired and give me unsolicited advice how I could be the parents he needs and then he would be a better baby. Thank you for that advice (insert sarcastic tone here). I had done nothing but read books and talk to professionals to find out what I could do to help him. I had already been successful with one child so far, what was wrong with me for this child?
I would take him to church and be asked to leave by nursery workers because he wouldn't stop crying. I would attend mommy groups and be told something was wrong with him because he didn't walk, crawl, talk, whatever other baby thing, on time. I would go to the grocery store and checkers would ask me what was wrong with my baby.
X-Man was 2 ish when I really started making social work educated guesses he might have autism. I spoke with the pediatrician, got him evaluated for early intervention programs, and got a plan in place. Great! Something I didn't realize as a parent or a social worker is other parents suddenly inspect everything you do regarding parenting a child with special needs. Yep, it is true. I am suddenly the worst parent in the world and clearly I shouldn't be blessed with children.
Everything I fed my son was wrong. The shoes I bought were wrong. The toys he played with were inappropriate. Everything was criticized. "Thank you parent who does not have a special needs child for your advice about how I am raising my son wrong. It sure helps me make it through the day."
Conversation with a parent one day:
Me: Your son is so adorable when he runs around. He seems to really enjoy his new found talent.
Other Mom: Why doesn't your son run yet? He is 6 months older than my son.
Me: Well, he will get there. He is always learning new skills.
OM: Too bad you never sent him to daycare. He would have been more advanced and hitting his milestones.
Me: We felt keeping him home with us was the best decision for him.
OM: You will regret it when he is unable to make it in a good college.
Me: I will worry about college in about 15 years or so.
OM: He could end up on welfare if you don't start planning his future now.
Me: K, thanks for the advice. Gotta go home now.
These type of conversations happen all the time. X-Man is 8 years old and I hear about what I need to do to be a better parent often for the last 8 years. All the time! I even get the comment, if I wouldn't have immunized my son, he would be "normal". Nope, all this started way before he was immunized. Thanks for making me feel like a child abuser, though.
I also feel like a tool because I can become jealous of other parents. "Oh, your son hasn't had a potty accident since he was 3?" That is awesome. My 8 year old had 8 accidents last week. I want to get to a place where I am not cleaning up poop every day. "That is great that your daughter likes to try new foods." X-Man has about 6 foods he will eat. Yes, I have tried all the different methods trying to get him to eat. We are even on a waiting list for food therapy. Apparently there are many children out there who don't eat. I have not met any of them. All the children I meet eat everything on their plates. "Your son picked out his clothes today! I can tell." My son refuses to make a clothing decision, even a bad one. Plus, if I choose clothing that just "doesn't feel right" we get to make a change, often. I am jealous which makes me angry which makes me cry. Thankfully he reminds me why he is the best 8 year old ever.
X-Man is brutally honest with me. I need that sometimes. He loves unconditionally, unlike the other poop makers in my house. He is an expert in natural disasters, sprinklers, motorcycles, sharks, airplanes, and insects. He is so funny! X-Man has the driest sense of humor, so pay attention. He likes his schedule which makes me warm inside. He is a very smart cookie and he loves cookies. He is gentle-hearted and humane. He loves documentaries and non-fiction. He reminds me every day why I love being a parent and why it is such a hard job all at the same time.
I think the reason for this post is to give you some background information plus to let you know it is so hard being a parent of a child with special needs. Please support those parents instead of giving advice. I am pretty sure most parents of special needs have read and tried everything out there to help their little ones. They just need support and coffee, most importantly, coffee, or is it support?
He was a terrible baby. He cried all the time. He rarely slept. There was nothing diagnosed to get help for. I had to hold him constantly. Really, constantly. He didn't want to be with anyone else, ever. Not even, My Dark Knight, AKA My Sexy Man (which is what he would like to be referred to from now on in my blog).
Parents I barely knew would notice I was tired and give me unsolicited advice how I could be the parents he needs and then he would be a better baby. Thank you for that advice (insert sarcastic tone here). I had done nothing but read books and talk to professionals to find out what I could do to help him. I had already been successful with one child so far, what was wrong with me for this child?
I would take him to church and be asked to leave by nursery workers because he wouldn't stop crying. I would attend mommy groups and be told something was wrong with him because he didn't walk, crawl, talk, whatever other baby thing, on time. I would go to the grocery store and checkers would ask me what was wrong with my baby.
X-Man was 2 ish when I really started making social work educated guesses he might have autism. I spoke with the pediatrician, got him evaluated for early intervention programs, and got a plan in place. Great! Something I didn't realize as a parent or a social worker is other parents suddenly inspect everything you do regarding parenting a child with special needs. Yep, it is true. I am suddenly the worst parent in the world and clearly I shouldn't be blessed with children.
Everything I fed my son was wrong. The shoes I bought were wrong. The toys he played with were inappropriate. Everything was criticized. "Thank you parent who does not have a special needs child for your advice about how I am raising my son wrong. It sure helps me make it through the day."
Conversation with a parent one day:
Me: Your son is so adorable when he runs around. He seems to really enjoy his new found talent.
Other Mom: Why doesn't your son run yet? He is 6 months older than my son.
Me: Well, he will get there. He is always learning new skills.
OM: Too bad you never sent him to daycare. He would have been more advanced and hitting his milestones.
Me: We felt keeping him home with us was the best decision for him.
OM: You will regret it when he is unable to make it in a good college.
Me: I will worry about college in about 15 years or so.
OM: He could end up on welfare if you don't start planning his future now.
Me: K, thanks for the advice. Gotta go home now.
These type of conversations happen all the time. X-Man is 8 years old and I hear about what I need to do to be a better parent often for the last 8 years. All the time! I even get the comment, if I wouldn't have immunized my son, he would be "normal". Nope, all this started way before he was immunized. Thanks for making me feel like a child abuser, though.
I also feel like a tool because I can become jealous of other parents. "Oh, your son hasn't had a potty accident since he was 3?" That is awesome. My 8 year old had 8 accidents last week. I want to get to a place where I am not cleaning up poop every day. "That is great that your daughter likes to try new foods." X-Man has about 6 foods he will eat. Yes, I have tried all the different methods trying to get him to eat. We are even on a waiting list for food therapy. Apparently there are many children out there who don't eat. I have not met any of them. All the children I meet eat everything on their plates. "Your son picked out his clothes today! I can tell." My son refuses to make a clothing decision, even a bad one. Plus, if I choose clothing that just "doesn't feel right" we get to make a change, often. I am jealous which makes me angry which makes me cry. Thankfully he reminds me why he is the best 8 year old ever.
X-Man is brutally honest with me. I need that sometimes. He loves unconditionally, unlike the other poop makers in my house. He is an expert in natural disasters, sprinklers, motorcycles, sharks, airplanes, and insects. He is so funny! X-Man has the driest sense of humor, so pay attention. He likes his schedule which makes me warm inside. He is a very smart cookie and he loves cookies. He is gentle-hearted and humane. He loves documentaries and non-fiction. He reminds me every day why I love being a parent and why it is such a hard job all at the same time.
I think the reason for this post is to give you some background information plus to let you know it is so hard being a parent of a child with special needs. Please support those parents instead of giving advice. I am pretty sure most parents of special needs have read and tried everything out there to help their little ones. They just need support and coffee, most importantly, coffee, or is it support?
Friday, October 17, 2014
My Sexy Man doesn't like his name!
So, after my post regarding Andy Gibb, My Sexy Man decided he didn't like that name for my blog. Apparently, it is "too literal" and doesn't flow off the tongue. He would like a change. I decided I would let you guys vote on his blog name. Some of these suggestions are his and some are mine.
Please vote in the comments of this blog post. You may also add your suggestions in the comments.
1. My Dark Knight
2. The Man
3. My Rock God
Thanks!
Please vote in the comments of this blog post. You may also add your suggestions in the comments.
1. My Dark Knight
2. The Man
3. My Rock God
Thanks!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Andy Gibb made me change my husband plans.
I knew at a very young age I wanted to be married by the time I was 21. I am not sure why 21 was the magical age. I was also going to have 5 boys and no girls and my house would be spotless. I was going to drive a red, fast car and always wear high heels. I was also going to be doctor. My husband was going to be a musician and his name was Andy Gibb.
I started making my marriage plans to Andy Gibb at the age of 5. I was very detailed on what I wanted in my marriage and Andy's role in my life. Everything was planned and Andy Gibb died. I was so upset. I cried and threw things and ripped up all my notebooks with my perfect marriage. I also missed a day of school because I was just too sad to attend.
I decided I would change up my plans a bit but I was still settled on marrying a musician. While watching MTV one day, back when they played music videos, I saw a set of twins with flowing blonde hair. I have found my new husband, Gunner Nelson. I picked Gunner because his name was very cool.
(What is with the blondes? I always imagined my children with very dark hair and you don't have that with two blonde parents.)
The Gunner Nelson romance fizzled quickly as I outgrew my childhood expectations and more bad boy musicians showed up in the music scene. I dated some guys who were nice guys, some, not so nice guys. I became a single parent when I was 22 (never married). None of these things were in my plans.
After a strange meeting with a guy, my roommate, and the internet, I went on a date with a single father. I picked him up for our date. I have an active imagination and felt I would be less likely to be murdered if I drove. I watched him walk toward me and all I could think was, this guy is going to be a jerk. He walked in a cocky way, he was tall, dark, and handsome which all RomComs point out is the bad boy. This was not going to work. I need a positive male example for The Daughter.
We went for a hike and to dinner. He was very funny! I talked the whole time due to my nerves and he listened. I played Neil Diamond in the car and he didn't complain. I was sure this was a fluke. I have met men who were good at first and changed over time. He didn't change, except he expressed his dislike for Neil. Boo!
Well, it worked out it seems. My Sexy Man and I have 2 boys together and have been together for a long time now. Is it perfect, you ask? It is perfect for me (I would say it is perfect for us, but I didn't ask his opinion.). I have to work very hard on the relationship because I can be difficult. He is so easy going and makes me laugh every day. He has also been my biggest supporter this year, Becoming Me. I become anxious when I know he is reading this blog. I care about what he thinks. (If you know me, you know this is a big deal.) BONUS: He is a musician! Check!
So, Thank You Andy Gibb for Shadow Dancing and I Just Want to Be Your Everything! Thank you for helping me change my plans.
Sorry you died, though.
I started making my marriage plans to Andy Gibb at the age of 5. I was very detailed on what I wanted in my marriage and Andy's role in my life. Everything was planned and Andy Gibb died. I was so upset. I cried and threw things and ripped up all my notebooks with my perfect marriage. I also missed a day of school because I was just too sad to attend.
I decided I would change up my plans a bit but I was still settled on marrying a musician. While watching MTV one day, back when they played music videos, I saw a set of twins with flowing blonde hair. I have found my new husband, Gunner Nelson. I picked Gunner because his name was very cool.
(What is with the blondes? I always imagined my children with very dark hair and you don't have that with two blonde parents.)
The Gunner Nelson romance fizzled quickly as I outgrew my childhood expectations and more bad boy musicians showed up in the music scene. I dated some guys who were nice guys, some, not so nice guys. I became a single parent when I was 22 (never married). None of these things were in my plans.
After a strange meeting with a guy, my roommate, and the internet, I went on a date with a single father. I picked him up for our date. I have an active imagination and felt I would be less likely to be murdered if I drove. I watched him walk toward me and all I could think was, this guy is going to be a jerk. He walked in a cocky way, he was tall, dark, and handsome which all RomComs point out is the bad boy. This was not going to work. I need a positive male example for The Daughter.
We went for a hike and to dinner. He was very funny! I talked the whole time due to my nerves and he listened. I played Neil Diamond in the car and he didn't complain. I was sure this was a fluke. I have met men who were good at first and changed over time. He didn't change, except he expressed his dislike for Neil. Boo!
Well, it worked out it seems. My Sexy Man and I have 2 boys together and have been together for a long time now. Is it perfect, you ask? It is perfect for me (I would say it is perfect for us, but I didn't ask his opinion.). I have to work very hard on the relationship because I can be difficult. He is so easy going and makes me laugh every day. He has also been my biggest supporter this year, Becoming Me. I become anxious when I know he is reading this blog. I care about what he thinks. (If you know me, you know this is a big deal.) BONUS: He is a musician! Check!
So, Thank You Andy Gibb for Shadow Dancing and I Just Want to Be Your Everything! Thank you for helping me change my plans.
Sorry you died, though.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Pneumonia is a terrible thing to catch.
I struggled with what to write about next, having so many thoughts running through my mind. I was also feeling vulnerable from my last post and needed a moment to regroup. :) I am also writing this while I have children jumping around me and being demanding of my time. My thoughts may seem all over the place.
My birthday is in April. I love birthdays! The last birthday party I had pre-adulthood (don't tell me if this is not a real word), was when I was 8 years old. I have had many memorable celebrations facilitated by friends, or my Sexy Man. My parents did not remember my birthday after my siblings moved out. I was fine with it growing up but as an adult with children, I want nothing more than to make birthdays special, including my own.
My dad called me the week of my birthday this year stating he wanted to take me and my family out to dinner for my birthday. My parents have been asking often when my birthday was this year.
Mom: Your birthday is in August, right?
Me: No, April.
Mom: Isn't The Daughter's birthday in April?
Me: No, August.
(This conversation happened often.)
I was excited to celebrate my birthday with my parents. I had plans to go bowling with my friends on my birthday and so we planned dinner the day before.
I had been having allergy issues for a few weeks, which is common. No matter what medications I took, I felt worse. By the time I went to dinner with the family, I could hardly stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time. I could not figure out what was wrong with me.
The Family and I went to a steak house for dinner and my mom made inappropriate comments about our server, my dad laughed at all the crazy things my kids did and said, and I sat quietly eating my food. My parents told The Daughter about me being a wonderful child. I liked to tease my parents and siblings stating I was always the favorite and the best child ever. My parents confirmed it that night, well, part of it anyways. It was a fun time. My parents hugged me after the dinner and gave me a card for my birthday. I do not remember the last time I hugged my parents. My parents were never affectionate.
The next night I went bowling with friends and was only able to play one game and spent the rest of the time putting my head on the table. It was a fun time, but I did feel terrible.
The day after my birthday I went to the doctor and found out I had pneumonia. I was pretty sure the doctor misdiagnosed me. Apparently, the doctor was correct. I hate it when I am proven wrong! I really enjoy being correct. I didn't start feeling like myself fully again until September. It was a terrible illness. The doctor made it very clear that people die from this illness if not taken care of properly and I already have a compromised immune system so I needed to be diligent.
I, clearly, survived pneumonia. I had to be willing to allow others to help me. My Sexy Man had to take care of the kids and dinners and cleaning and continue to work while I laid in bed. I found out I need others, even when I am not ill. I am not the only one who can do everything. It was a scary, yet reassuring, thing to learn. This was something that I referred back to many times this year.
My birthday is in April. I love birthdays! The last birthday party I had pre-adulthood (don't tell me if this is not a real word), was when I was 8 years old. I have had many memorable celebrations facilitated by friends, or my Sexy Man. My parents did not remember my birthday after my siblings moved out. I was fine with it growing up but as an adult with children, I want nothing more than to make birthdays special, including my own.
My dad called me the week of my birthday this year stating he wanted to take me and my family out to dinner for my birthday. My parents have been asking often when my birthday was this year.
Mom: Your birthday is in August, right?
Me: No, April.
Mom: Isn't The Daughter's birthday in April?
Me: No, August.
(This conversation happened often.)
I was excited to celebrate my birthday with my parents. I had plans to go bowling with my friends on my birthday and so we planned dinner the day before.
I had been having allergy issues for a few weeks, which is common. No matter what medications I took, I felt worse. By the time I went to dinner with the family, I could hardly stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time. I could not figure out what was wrong with me.
The Family and I went to a steak house for dinner and my mom made inappropriate comments about our server, my dad laughed at all the crazy things my kids did and said, and I sat quietly eating my food. My parents told The Daughter about me being a wonderful child. I liked to tease my parents and siblings stating I was always the favorite and the best child ever. My parents confirmed it that night, well, part of it anyways. It was a fun time. My parents hugged me after the dinner and gave me a card for my birthday. I do not remember the last time I hugged my parents. My parents were never affectionate.
The next night I went bowling with friends and was only able to play one game and spent the rest of the time putting my head on the table. It was a fun time, but I did feel terrible.
The day after my birthday I went to the doctor and found out I had pneumonia. I was pretty sure the doctor misdiagnosed me. Apparently, the doctor was correct. I hate it when I am proven wrong! I really enjoy being correct. I didn't start feeling like myself fully again until September. It was a terrible illness. The doctor made it very clear that people die from this illness if not taken care of properly and I already have a compromised immune system so I needed to be diligent.
I, clearly, survived pneumonia. I had to be willing to allow others to help me. My Sexy Man had to take care of the kids and dinners and cleaning and continue to work while I laid in bed. I found out I need others, even when I am not ill. I am not the only one who can do everything. It was a scary, yet reassuring, thing to learn. This was something that I referred back to many times this year.
Monday, October 6, 2014
The first person I fell, head-over-heels, in love with.
My daughter! I have to give a bit of a back story regarding The Daughter to understand why she helped me, Become Me, this year. (Please note this post is very difficult for me to write.)
1985: This is the year my last sibling left the house, leaving me to be an "only" child. I was 8 years old. My siblings are much older than I am and they took care of my needs every day. My parents were alcoholics, I still love them, but they were either working or at the bar. I had to learn to take care of myself quickly. I did not have any idea what it looked like to be raised by parents.
Jump to 1999: This is the year I gave birth to The Daughter. I fell in love the second she was born. I was young, single, and unprepared to be a mother. I believed that since I raised myself, I could raise a child of my own. Apparently, having a good role-model in your parents, assists in being a good parent yourself. I believe I do a pretty good job, but I really struggle being an ideal parent. I am unconventional.
2014: I was in a meeting for work and muted my phone. After my meeting that went long because I am too chatty, I checked my phone and I had 6 missed calls and voice mails from the high school, 2 texts from The Daughter's older half-brother, and 2 missed calls from an unknown number. Strange, I am usually not this popular. I checked the voice mails and the texts and they stated I needed to call the high school. As I was calling the high school, I just decided to drive to the school at the same time.
The Daughter was going to kill herself and had a plan she was going to follow through with after school that day. She texted her older half-brother something that concerned him and he immediately went to his school counselor who called The Daughter's school, and so on. She had been cutting, a lot. She was struggling with life. I was clueless, no, ignorant. I thought she was a grumpy teenager. She was athletic, on varsity sports as a freshman. I was pretty sure her life couldn't get much better as a freshman in high school. PLUS, I am a social worker! The signs of suicide go with the job and I could't see them in my own child.
I failed as a parent, not because she was depressed, but because I didn't even notice. I wasn't available to answer the phone when the school called because I was too busy talking about nothing important. What a selfish human being I have become.
After I got her stabilized and an appropriate plan in place, I re-evaluated me as a parent. I started working on not being chatty when I was working. I decided if I wanted to shoot the breeze, I could go out for coffee or whatever outside of work. Work time was to focus on the people I assist. I looked at all the times I was being selfish as a parent. I am not in survival mode anymore like I needed to be in the 80's. I don't need to think of myself first anymore, but I have chosen to. I consciously think how to put others first, specifically my family.
My Sexy Man is the most giving and unselfish person I have ever met. I assume Mother Theresa was very giving and unselfish but I never met her. I am lucky to have someone who stands by me every day in spite of my selfishness. Being my better half has got to be trying. Bonus: He is a great example of how to be a better parent! I have been trying to be more like him this year.
This was step two at Becoming Me.
1985: This is the year my last sibling left the house, leaving me to be an "only" child. I was 8 years old. My siblings are much older than I am and they took care of my needs every day. My parents were alcoholics, I still love them, but they were either working or at the bar. I had to learn to take care of myself quickly. I did not have any idea what it looked like to be raised by parents.
Jump to 1999: This is the year I gave birth to The Daughter. I fell in love the second she was born. I was young, single, and unprepared to be a mother. I believed that since I raised myself, I could raise a child of my own. Apparently, having a good role-model in your parents, assists in being a good parent yourself. I believe I do a pretty good job, but I really struggle being an ideal parent. I am unconventional.
2014: I was in a meeting for work and muted my phone. After my meeting that went long because I am too chatty, I checked my phone and I had 6 missed calls and voice mails from the high school, 2 texts from The Daughter's older half-brother, and 2 missed calls from an unknown number. Strange, I am usually not this popular. I checked the voice mails and the texts and they stated I needed to call the high school. As I was calling the high school, I just decided to drive to the school at the same time.
The Daughter was going to kill herself and had a plan she was going to follow through with after school that day. She texted her older half-brother something that concerned him and he immediately went to his school counselor who called The Daughter's school, and so on. She had been cutting, a lot. She was struggling with life. I was clueless, no, ignorant. I thought she was a grumpy teenager. She was athletic, on varsity sports as a freshman. I was pretty sure her life couldn't get much better as a freshman in high school. PLUS, I am a social worker! The signs of suicide go with the job and I could't see them in my own child.
I failed as a parent, not because she was depressed, but because I didn't even notice. I wasn't available to answer the phone when the school called because I was too busy talking about nothing important. What a selfish human being I have become.
After I got her stabilized and an appropriate plan in place, I re-evaluated me as a parent. I started working on not being chatty when I was working. I decided if I wanted to shoot the breeze, I could go out for coffee or whatever outside of work. Work time was to focus on the people I assist. I looked at all the times I was being selfish as a parent. I am not in survival mode anymore like I needed to be in the 80's. I don't need to think of myself first anymore, but I have chosen to. I consciously think how to put others first, specifically my family.
My Sexy Man is the most giving and unselfish person I have ever met. I assume Mother Theresa was very giving and unselfish but I never met her. I am lucky to have someone who stands by me every day in spite of my selfishness. Being my better half has got to be trying. Bonus: He is a great example of how to be a better parent! I have been trying to be more like him this year.
This was step two at Becoming Me.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Becoming me, kicking and screaming.
I had to grow up this year. I had to become a responsible adult. I had to make decisions I never thought I would have to make. I am not impressed.
I love my family! I love how my family functioned up to this year. I have a loving, intelligent, funny man, a sassy teen, two crazy boys, a brooding step-teen, parents I was dependent on, and semi-accepting in-laws. What a wonderful life!
I am a social worker, which is a rewarding and stressful profession. I see that I make a difference in my small world, not so much in the big picture, and that is okay.
Flashback to May 2013: (conversation at a birthday party when I started to realize not everyone thinks I am as awesome as I think I am)
Me: I am thinking it is about time I finish my master's degree.
Sister-in-law: Social work is a waste of time, money , and education. Social work should not exist.
Me: (picking up jaw off the ground trying to mutter something intelligent) Really?
Mother-in-law: I agree with sister-in-law.
Me: Really? (the intelligent comments are flowing, as you can see)
Husband of the mother-in-law: Social workers take the tax payers hard earned money to help poor people to become dependent on welfare.
(let me interject here that I do work in the demographic of adults receiving Medicaid services, so he may feel I am fostering dependence, but, really, I assist others to become more independent)
Me: Really? (as you can see, I am full of intelligent information defending the profession I love)
As the tears start to flow, I excuse myself to my car to look busy doing something. I have just been hit in the face with the reality not everyone thinks as highly of my profession as I do. Oh blissful ignorance! I REALLY believed everyone in the world thought social work was a beautiful profession full of selfless human beings. I had to change my thought process of social work and re-evaluate my place in this profession, i.e. what do I believe and why.
This was the beginning of Becoming Me. Little did I know, it was the beginning of a new view on life as a whole, not just social work.
I love my family! I love how my family functioned up to this year. I have a loving, intelligent, funny man, a sassy teen, two crazy boys, a brooding step-teen, parents I was dependent on, and semi-accepting in-laws. What a wonderful life!
I am a social worker, which is a rewarding and stressful profession. I see that I make a difference in my small world, not so much in the big picture, and that is okay.
Flashback to May 2013: (conversation at a birthday party when I started to realize not everyone thinks I am as awesome as I think I am)
Me: I am thinking it is about time I finish my master's degree.
Sister-in-law: Social work is a waste of time, money , and education. Social work should not exist.
Me: (picking up jaw off the ground trying to mutter something intelligent) Really?
Mother-in-law: I agree with sister-in-law.
Me: Really? (the intelligent comments are flowing, as you can see)
Husband of the mother-in-law: Social workers take the tax payers hard earned money to help poor people to become dependent on welfare.
(let me interject here that I do work in the demographic of adults receiving Medicaid services, so he may feel I am fostering dependence, but, really, I assist others to become more independent)
Me: Really? (as you can see, I am full of intelligent information defending the profession I love)
As the tears start to flow, I excuse myself to my car to look busy doing something. I have just been hit in the face with the reality not everyone thinks as highly of my profession as I do. Oh blissful ignorance! I REALLY believed everyone in the world thought social work was a beautiful profession full of selfless human beings. I had to change my thought process of social work and re-evaluate my place in this profession, i.e. what do I believe and why.
This was the beginning of Becoming Me. Little did I know, it was the beginning of a new view on life as a whole, not just social work.
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