One thing that no one tells you when you sign up for this crazy thing called parenting is how much it really sucks monkey balls sometimes. All you hear about is the intense love you have for your child, this sweet innocent babe who will always turn to you for comfort and sustenance and will make your heart swell with pride and joy. No one really mentions the swollen, rock hard boobs, the wildly fluctuating hormones, the fact that it is actually possible to get a negative number of hours of sleep in a day, the fact that someone can regurgitate on your shirt and you may stay in it for hours, if not the entire day...and that is just the first week of being a new parent. That shit is glossed over. Ya know that whole birth control/abortion debate out there? Maybe it would not be an issue if we didn't gloss over the whole suckage factor that sometimes goes along with being a parent.
That is not to say that there are not really awesome moments. Of course there are. There has to be, evolutionarily speaking...or we would have evolved to eat our own young. Sometimes, though, the amount of heartbreak that you have to go through with a child gets overwhelming...especially when the heartbreak is caused by things that are totally out of your control. Or, even worse, things that WERE in your control.
Life throws shit at people. This is a fact. As a parent, we want to shield our children from this shit. We can't. You can't protect your children from life. The worst feeling in the world, though, is when the things that you so desperately want to protect them from, you had a major role in creating. The helplessness that goes along with that position is beyond description. Watching your child struggle with emotions and get put in the middle and be basically torn in two...yeah. Sucks monkey balls is just the tip of the iceberg.
As a therapist, I know I can't do emotional work for others. They have to process, they have to make the changes...no matter how much I WANT something to happen, there is that old saying: "You can wish in one had and shit in the other...see which one fills up first". I can't take ownership of other's emotions, nor can I wave the magic wand I don't have (despite what my clients believe) and make them be what I think they should. I can just listen and be there and provide limited direction. All of which is mostly easy to do because I am not involved. I didn't go through the whole sour milk stinking, negative sleep, crying right along with the baby thing with them. I am outside, neutral, and they don't know what buttons to push.
If only it were that easy with your kids....
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Trigger
What thoughts must have been going through his head, right before the finger went on the trigger?
What does it take to make someone actively contemplate taking another's life?
What more does it take to make someone act on those contemplations?
How tortured must someone be, to search out people to kill.
How heart-wrenching for the families, friends, survivors, witnesses, staff.
Tragedy all over. Tonight, sounds of sobbing where there should be a parent being ignored by their teenager. Sounds of grief, of heartbreak, when there should be sounds of life.
Death, when there should be life.
People will start to point fingers. Who missed what. Who should have done what. It has already started.
The parents will be blamed. Society in general will be blamed. Liberals will call for more gun control; conservatives will call for a reversion to the days when corporal punishment was allowable and preferred in school.
Yet...none of this answers that basic question of why. And what. And how.
Words escape me at this moment. It is a parent's worse nightmare. And so close to home.
Just a trigger pull away.
What does it take to make someone actively contemplate taking another's life?
What more does it take to make someone act on those contemplations?
How tortured must someone be, to search out people to kill.
How heart-wrenching for the families, friends, survivors, witnesses, staff.
Tragedy all over. Tonight, sounds of sobbing where there should be a parent being ignored by their teenager. Sounds of grief, of heartbreak, when there should be sounds of life.
Death, when there should be life.
People will start to point fingers. Who missed what. Who should have done what. It has already started.
The parents will be blamed. Society in general will be blamed. Liberals will call for more gun control; conservatives will call for a reversion to the days when corporal punishment was allowable and preferred in school.
Yet...none of this answers that basic question of why. And what. And how.
Words escape me at this moment. It is a parent's worse nightmare. And so close to home.
Just a trigger pull away.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Zombies
I had a conversation tonight with Elizabeth that concerned rabid zombies with feelings in a Will Smith movie that I am convinced was an allegory for the so-called homosexual agenda in the US. A dog died in this movie, apparently after turning gray and losing all of its hair. I am not convinced that this dog did not have just rabies and mange vs. being infected by zombies, but whatevs. I also learned that becoming a zombie is comparable to most communicable diseases in that it is spread through contact with saliva and blood. It involved a thorough discussion of what we would do in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse as well as much detail about the comparison between zombies and gay people. Zombies don't want to change, y'all...they just want to be allowed to be who they are. (And for the record, I was not comparing gay people to zombies; I was merely using this as a teaching moment to illustrate to my child how easy it is to rationalize the marginalization of an entire group of people when you lump them into the "other" category. I do occasionally parent responsibly...)
These random products of our somewhat twisted minds; this conversation that would concern some people were they to overhear us...these are the things that I enjoy the most about the teenage years. The developing adult sense of humor, the ability to appreciate satire and to engage in witty back and forth banter. It on occasion makes the sullenness, the lability of mood, the general attitude of OMFG MOM! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT AND IF I WOULD NOT GET GROUNDED FOR LIFE I WOULD TOTALLY TELL YOU TO FUCK OFF! much more bearable.
In these moments, I get a glimpse of the woman that my daughter is going to become. I see beyond the torture that is the adolescent era to the strong, intelligent, and capable adult that will be. And I think, "I was responsible for this. I helped create this. I helped shape this."
Truly, a humbling experience.
These random products of our somewhat twisted minds; this conversation that would concern some people were they to overhear us...these are the things that I enjoy the most about the teenage years. The developing adult sense of humor, the ability to appreciate satire and to engage in witty back and forth banter. It on occasion makes the sullenness, the lability of mood, the general attitude of OMFG MOM! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT AND IF I WOULD NOT GET GROUNDED FOR LIFE I WOULD TOTALLY TELL YOU TO FUCK OFF! much more bearable.
In these moments, I get a glimpse of the woman that my daughter is going to become. I see beyond the torture that is the adolescent era to the strong, intelligent, and capable adult that will be. And I think, "I was responsible for this. I helped create this. I helped shape this."
Truly, a humbling experience.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Texting II
Me: Wanna come watch me play in a concert in May?
E: Play what?
Me: My violin.
E: Oh duh ya sure but if it sucks I want my money back! jk
Me: It is free. Nice try tho.
E: Well I will still expect some kind of compensation if it goes down in flames.
Me: I'll spot you a ride home then
E: Oh, OK, that will work!
The goal here, people, is to minimize the decades of therapy required...
E: Play what?
Me: My violin.
E: Oh duh ya sure but if it sucks I want my money back! jk
Me: It is free. Nice try tho.
E: Well I will still expect some kind of compensation if it goes down in flames.
Me: I'll spot you a ride home then
E: Oh, OK, that will work!
The goal here, people, is to minimize the decades of therapy required...
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Dukan
As I have mentioned before I went on the Dukan diet Memorial Day weekend of last year. I have lost over 50 lbs. I feel better than I ever have (well, except for the raging cold I currently have, courtesy of my children who still feel that the directive to share means germs as well. Assholes...). My joints don't ache nearly as much, I have more energy, I have learned how to cook with spices and flavor again, and I have realized that, like the majority of people out there, I don't eat enough vegetables.
That being said....I don't recommend the diet, really. Why? It is super restrictive. Ironically, that is one of the things that really appealed to me about it. They tell you exactly what you can and cannot eat. I did not want to have to count calories, or carbs, or grams of fat. I was given a list of foods I could have, and I could eat as much as I wanted to off said list. Removal of having to think was a big part of the appeal for me. Especially someone who tends towards emotional eating, which we all know=carbs. The grains I was consuming then contributed to my flares, which made me feel like crap, which then led to more emotional eating. It was a nasty cycle. And I finally broke it.
I will soon be "allowed" to re-introduce grains back into my diet. I have to admit, I am a little scared about this. It is almost like an addiction for me...will I totally lose control? I surely don't want to gain that 50 lbs (well, 60, once I lose this last 10 to get to my goal weight...). Will that be motivation enough for me to keep up my progress? I am also just scared that re-introducing grains will make me flare again. Don't think I have not cheated on this diet...I TOTALLY have. When I did, the aches I got the next day didn't really make it worth it. Seeing the scale jump, say, 5 lbs, even if it was mostly water weight, wasn't worth it either. I just FEEL better. Really, that is what I set out to do. Feel better.
Has this cured my Sjogren's? Fuck no. Do I feel I can manage it better now? Absolutely. At this point in my life, that is what I want. I will never be a model. My belly is ravaged from my children and sports a C-section scar. My breasts are pretty saggy without a good bra. I have stretch marks and bruise super easily. A few years ago, all of that would have really bothered me. Apparently I grew up...because now, I just feel better (well, mostly; I still have bad days...) and that is all that I want. The looking better thing is a bonus.
Though I still maintain that it is totally unfair for a person who has such difficulty having children to have child-bearing hips...maybe I have not grown up that much after all :p
That being said....I don't recommend the diet, really. Why? It is super restrictive. Ironically, that is one of the things that really appealed to me about it. They tell you exactly what you can and cannot eat. I did not want to have to count calories, or carbs, or grams of fat. I was given a list of foods I could have, and I could eat as much as I wanted to off said list. Removal of having to think was a big part of the appeal for me. Especially someone who tends towards emotional eating, which we all know=carbs. The grains I was consuming then contributed to my flares, which made me feel like crap, which then led to more emotional eating. It was a nasty cycle. And I finally broke it.
I will soon be "allowed" to re-introduce grains back into my diet. I have to admit, I am a little scared about this. It is almost like an addiction for me...will I totally lose control? I surely don't want to gain that 50 lbs (well, 60, once I lose this last 10 to get to my goal weight...). Will that be motivation enough for me to keep up my progress? I am also just scared that re-introducing grains will make me flare again. Don't think I have not cheated on this diet...I TOTALLY have. When I did, the aches I got the next day didn't really make it worth it. Seeing the scale jump, say, 5 lbs, even if it was mostly water weight, wasn't worth it either. I just FEEL better. Really, that is what I set out to do. Feel better.
Has this cured my Sjogren's? Fuck no. Do I feel I can manage it better now? Absolutely. At this point in my life, that is what I want. I will never be a model. My belly is ravaged from my children and sports a C-section scar. My breasts are pretty saggy without a good bra. I have stretch marks and bruise super easily. A few years ago, all of that would have really bothered me. Apparently I grew up...because now, I just feel better (well, mostly; I still have bad days...) and that is all that I want. The looking better thing is a bonus.
Though I still maintain that it is totally unfair for a person who has such difficulty having children to have child-bearing hips...maybe I have not grown up that much after all :p
Monday, January 30, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Random II
I got a Twitter. I just the other day figured out how to use it and to make sense of all the conversations that were going on and how to follow them...plus my sister got one and I want to torture her a little bit on it. I still don't quite get it though...
@ewepsycho if you are interested.
Charles and I have been together for 10 years now. It was actually 10 years yesterday, but I am still all marveling at this fact. I mean, truly, I kinda half expected him to have drank himself to death, being married to me and all...yet I am the one on meds? Huh. Now I have a different perspective on this...
It snowed here for like the second time this winter. OK, maybe the third. Then tomorrow it is supposed to be warm and melt it all. (Warm is relative...I am talking like 40* here.) I think Mother Nature needs some meds herself. That or humans need to stop creating greenhouse gasses...though then we could not manufacture the stuff needed to make my meds to give me my sanity so I can torture my family for another 10 years. Fuck.
So the laptop is working, but only because I installed Linux on it. Windows was apparently beyond repair. I can access all my old files, so it is just gonna stay this way for now. However, I cannot use my wireless mouse with it for some reason and I have to find the cord for the printer because I can't figure out how to use it wirelessly. The printer I can deal with...however, I HATE the touch pad mouse on this thing. I hate that it moves my cursor all over the place and several times I have had to stop typing to move it back because my thumbs have brushed against it. I hate that it is a PITA to try to scroll down a web page. But mostly, I hate that when something goes wrong with it I have nothing to throw across the room like I did with the other mouse.
I want to know who came up with the idea of taking a particularly lean meat such as pork and making the heart killer known as bacon. I mean, I am not complaining or anything...but who thought of this idea?
@ewepsycho if you are interested.
Charles and I have been together for 10 years now. It was actually 10 years yesterday, but I am still all marveling at this fact. I mean, truly, I kinda half expected him to have drank himself to death, being married to me and all...yet I am the one on meds? Huh. Now I have a different perspective on this...
It snowed here for like the second time this winter. OK, maybe the third. Then tomorrow it is supposed to be warm and melt it all. (Warm is relative...I am talking like 40* here.) I think Mother Nature needs some meds herself. That or humans need to stop creating greenhouse gasses...though then we could not manufacture the stuff needed to make my meds to give me my sanity so I can torture my family for another 10 years. Fuck.
So the laptop is working, but only because I installed Linux on it. Windows was apparently beyond repair. I can access all my old files, so it is just gonna stay this way for now. However, I cannot use my wireless mouse with it for some reason and I have to find the cord for the printer because I can't figure out how to use it wirelessly. The printer I can deal with...however, I HATE the touch pad mouse on this thing. I hate that it moves my cursor all over the place and several times I have had to stop typing to move it back because my thumbs have brushed against it. I hate that it is a PITA to try to scroll down a web page. But mostly, I hate that when something goes wrong with it I have nothing to throw across the room like I did with the other mouse.
I want to know who came up with the idea of taking a particularly lean meat such as pork and making the heart killer known as bacon. I mean, I am not complaining or anything...but who thought of this idea?
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Fish
I had to go to orientation for my new job yesterday. You know, because it totally makes sense to get oriented to your workplace over a month after you originally started.
It was pretty much the typical shit you would expect from an orientation. Lots of happy feel good crap about how we are the cream of the crop, etc. (because I totally did NOT get this job because of the people I knew or anything like that. Nope, not at all...) and how HONORED the senior management is to have us working for them. Then they threw in all the expected boring ass shit about HIPPA and getting fired for running your mouth and where to park and how to check your e-mail.
It threw me for a loop, though, when they showed the video about Fish. It is basically this show about these guys who work in a fish market and they throw fish around all day. And that is exactly how they introduced it, and I totally thought that they were joking until they showed it and that was exactly what it was, men throwing fish.
Except....they really liked their jobs. They really had fun. They were...playing. While at work. While LIVING THEIR LIVES.
Holy fuck. These guys worked 14 hour days; had to get up at 5 AM, smelled like dead fish all day long...and they were enjoying life. What the hell do I have to complain about? I have a job I (mostly) love, a roof over my head, I (mostly) am able to pay my bills, I have three beautiful children...yet I often find the worst things to focus on. I have to get up earlier than I want. I sometimes have to work late. I don't have the house I want. I have a chronic autoimmune disease... but I am still alive.
I came to the conclusion that my attitude did, in fact, need to shift. How quickly I forgot the exercise I did over Thanksgiving where I came up with something I was thankful for during all 30 days of November. This is a stretch for me. I am, by nature, one to see the negative in things. I used to view it as being a realist and pragmatic. Maybe I need to start looking for the magic in things.
I need more fish in my life.
It was pretty much the typical shit you would expect from an orientation. Lots of happy feel good crap about how we are the cream of the crop, etc. (because I totally did NOT get this job because of the people I knew or anything like that. Nope, not at all...) and how HONORED the senior management is to have us working for them. Then they threw in all the expected boring ass shit about HIPPA and getting fired for running your mouth and where to park and how to check your e-mail.
It threw me for a loop, though, when they showed the video about Fish. It is basically this show about these guys who work in a fish market and they throw fish around all day. And that is exactly how they introduced it, and I totally thought that they were joking until they showed it and that was exactly what it was, men throwing fish.
Except....they really liked their jobs. They really had fun. They were...playing. While at work. While LIVING THEIR LIVES.
Holy fuck. These guys worked 14 hour days; had to get up at 5 AM, smelled like dead fish all day long...and they were enjoying life. What the hell do I have to complain about? I have a job I (mostly) love, a roof over my head, I (mostly) am able to pay my bills, I have three beautiful children...yet I often find the worst things to focus on. I have to get up earlier than I want. I sometimes have to work late. I don't have the house I want. I have a chronic autoimmune disease... but I am still alive.
I came to the conclusion that my attitude did, in fact, need to shift. How quickly I forgot the exercise I did over Thanksgiving where I came up with something I was thankful for during all 30 days of November. This is a stretch for me. I am, by nature, one to see the negative in things. I used to view it as being a realist and pragmatic. Maybe I need to start looking for the magic in things.
I need more fish in my life.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Sick
So poor Alexis has some kind of stomach bug. And of course, now that I have spent the better part of the day cleaning up puke, the smell is permanently burned into my nostrils and I smell it everywhere. At one point she cuddled up to me while I was messing around on Facebook (don't judge me; she was lying on the couch and Charlie was sleeping. It's not like I was ignoring the kids to play on the computer...) and right after she did, she spewed all over me, her, the couch, and on my laptop. You know you are a parent when you have ever had to wonder if vomit will ruin your laptop. Or a college student, but really if you are drinking and going on the computer you will real quick learn the disastrous results. Today's version of drunk dialing, I suppose, but with a potentially unlimited audience.
Anyways, now I feel all vomit-y myself. What is it about cleaning up puke that makes you want to puke, too? Between that and the raging cold Charlie has going on, my children's germs are sure to attack my immune system from all sides in the hopes that someone, anyone, will be victorious. I know from past experience that when I get sick it is usually not fun. Of course, I don't have the luxuries that other members of my family have when they are sick. I am still expected to cook and clean and remember things. Today, for instance, Alexis's illness made her completely stumped by the complexities that are involved with buttoning her shirt. My husband will frequently forget how to get up with the children when he is sick. Elizabeth will take cold meds that knock her out and sleep for hours. Charlie can emit a whine that really should be studied as a torture method.
Yet I fought off post-partum depression; I deal daily with the sometimes debilitating fatigue and pain from a chronic condition; I have had sinus infections and bronchitis too many times to count over the past year...and I never take a day off. I am the one getting up with the kids; I do the cleaning and the running and still work 40+ hours. Is it any wonder that my children tend to be perfectionistic and anxiety-ridden? Their mother is the freaking queen of it! I need to start reading my own words, looking at old posts, and make some changes in my life before my children end up in the same boat I am.
Anyways, now I feel all vomit-y myself. What is it about cleaning up puke that makes you want to puke, too? Between that and the raging cold Charlie has going on, my children's germs are sure to attack my immune system from all sides in the hopes that someone, anyone, will be victorious. I know from past experience that when I get sick it is usually not fun. Of course, I don't have the luxuries that other members of my family have when they are sick. I am still expected to cook and clean and remember things. Today, for instance, Alexis's illness made her completely stumped by the complexities that are involved with buttoning her shirt. My husband will frequently forget how to get up with the children when he is sick. Elizabeth will take cold meds that knock her out and sleep for hours. Charlie can emit a whine that really should be studied as a torture method.
Yet I fought off post-partum depression; I deal daily with the sometimes debilitating fatigue and pain from a chronic condition; I have had sinus infections and bronchitis too many times to count over the past year...and I never take a day off. I am the one getting up with the kids; I do the cleaning and the running and still work 40+ hours. Is it any wonder that my children tend to be perfectionistic and anxiety-ridden? Their mother is the freaking queen of it! I need to start reading my own words, looking at old posts, and make some changes in my life before my children end up in the same boat I am.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Random
More proof that my assertion that eventually IT people will be taking over the world...my laptop recently took an elephant-sized shit and I have been freaking out more than a drug dealer on bath salts robbing a liquor store. Seriously, if I had the opportunity to trade some sex for a fixed laptop...well, let's just say pass me the Cuervo and let's get.it.on.
Charlie is possibly the most devious child I know. You try to put lotion on her and she acts as though you are dipping her in a vat of acid after rubbing her skin raw with sandpaper. She has recently been having a particularly nasty flare-up of eczema. She has prescription cream to put on it and I really think that she would rather be beaten with extension cords than have to experience the agony of having someone rub this on her person. So Charles was giving her a bath tonight and told her when he got her out, "We need to put your cream on you." She promptly began to giggle and squeal at her Daddy. Guess who forgot the cream? Score: Charlie, 1; Parents: 0.
We may have started a new family tradition this year. My sisters found lamb jammies for us to wear on Christmas Eve. Me likey. Nothing says Merry Christmas like having my gin-soaked ass being all comfy in some new warm jammies while simultaneously posing with my equally gin-soaked sisters in front of a life sized Santa doll (don't ask...)
I think that Twitter is my rock and roll. Meaning that parents in the 50's didn't understand Elvis's gyrating pelvis; I am at a loss as to how expressing oneself in 140 characters became so popular. Tweeting sounds like something that would occur in a really bad Disney after-school special.
Which probably just ages me even more...I don't think they have those anymore. Fuck. When did 31 become old?
Maybe I can have a midlife crisis and go tweet about it...
Charlie is possibly the most devious child I know. You try to put lotion on her and she acts as though you are dipping her in a vat of acid after rubbing her skin raw with sandpaper. She has recently been having a particularly nasty flare-up of eczema. She has prescription cream to put on it and I really think that she would rather be beaten with extension cords than have to experience the agony of having someone rub this on her person. So Charles was giving her a bath tonight and told her when he got her out, "We need to put your cream on you." She promptly began to giggle and squeal at her Daddy. Guess who forgot the cream? Score: Charlie, 1; Parents: 0.
We may have started a new family tradition this year. My sisters found lamb jammies for us to wear on Christmas Eve. Me likey. Nothing says Merry Christmas like having my gin-soaked ass being all comfy in some new warm jammies while simultaneously posing with my equally gin-soaked sisters in front of a life sized Santa doll (don't ask...)
I think that Twitter is my rock and roll. Meaning that parents in the 50's didn't understand Elvis's gyrating pelvis; I am at a loss as to how expressing oneself in 140 characters became so popular. Tweeting sounds like something that would occur in a really bad Disney after-school special.
Which probably just ages me even more...I don't think they have those anymore. Fuck. When did 31 become old?
Maybe I can have a midlife crisis and go tweet about it...
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