I registered for the Race Away from Domestic Violence 5k a few weeks ago, expecting to have finished the Couch to 5k program by now and expecting nice, clear weather on June 1st at 8am.
A few things happened to the contrary. I got sick with strep about 5-6 weeks ago and never fully got back on track with Couch to 5k. I still gave myself enough time to finish C25k (barely), but then I got a cold about a week and a half ago. From Week 1, Day 1, I vowed to repeat any failed workout until I succeeded. I never failed a single workout until Week 9 Day 1. P.S. It's a 9 week program. So that was last Sunday...I was supposed to run 30 minutes without stopping but I was so congested that I couldn't breathe. I only made it 15 minutes.
Tuesday we went to Kings Island. Thursday I went to the Tim McGraw concert after receiving a last minute invitation. Things happened and the week got away from me. By Friday, I still hadn't tried again and the weatherman was predicting thunderstorms during the race. He didn't lie. I set the alarm for six a.m. and watched the news for thirty minutes. I didn't see anything about a cancellation but I just didn't have the heart or desire to run in the rain. Especially not knowing deep down if I'd be able to finish. The furthest I'd ran before was 2.4 miles (without stopping) and the longest time being 28 minutes.
The other thing that happened -- very unexpectedly, our babysitter told us last night that she is closing her doors. My heart sank and I literally felt like I was going to puke as she was explaining. As soon as I understood what she meant by "closing," my mind was going a million miles a minute. She was talking but I was only half-hearing. The boys were trying to walk out the door and I was trying not to cry. As soon as the door closed behind me, I burst into tears. Theo told me all the way home that everything was going to be alright, although he had no understanding of what had just happened. A bomb went off in our happy little world. She gave a million reasons with which I can find no fault. I know it's not personal. But it feels personal. It feels like a break-up when you've done everything you can do to keep someone happy but it's not enough. It feels like she's breaking up with our kids. Like they weren't good enough. Like they did something wrong. Again, I know it's not personal. None of the reasons she gave had anything to do with us, but everything to do with her family and personal life. But from day one, she said that she was committed to seeing our families through to Kindergarten. We stayed in the same geographical area when we bought our home based largely on that. Knowing all the while, that we were completely vulnerable and that this could happen any day of the week. Knowing all the while, that priorities change. Life circumstances change. That promises can be broken and there's not a thing you can do to change it. She made a big decision to better her family's life. I can't be upset with her, but naturally and selfishly, I'm upset and saddened by the situation that it leaves us in.
So I spent all of Friday night crying and processing. Worrying and wondering. Fearful of the future. Sick over the uncertainty. Searching online and making a list of people and places to call come Monday morning. I couldn't sleep last night and when the alarm went off at 6am this morning, I sure was not in the mindset to toss aside my worries and go run in the rain for the sake of saying I ran a 5k.
She's giving us 4 weeks to find alternative care. We're thankful for that but so much remains unknown for now. It's just been a gloomy kind of weekend.
After gorging myself on Mexican food for dinner tonight, I told myself to snap out of it. I knew I'd eaten way more than My Fitness Pal would appreciate and I needed to do something to make up for it. At 8pm I decided that even though I didn't make it to the 5k 12 hours earlier, I had everything I needed to run a 5k right then. I put on my shoes, grabbed my iPod and I ran. I ran and ran and ran. I ran fast then I slowed down. Waaay down. I sped up and slowed down. Over and over. I sung. I focused on my breathing. I felt my feet hitting the ground. Ankle, knee, and side pains came and went. I focused on the sky and the lines on the sidewalk before me. I ran and ran and ran until I'd gone 3.2 miles. Just over 5k in just under 40 minutes. The furthest and longest I've ever ran. It felt good to accomplish it, even if there was no crowd. No tag with a number to pin to my shirt. No official time. No one to high 5 me at the finish line. I did it for myself. Now I know that I can.
Still sad? Of course. But life moves on. We all keep progressing. Our babysitter told me to focus on the positive. It will be good for Theo to be around older kids. I know it will be fine, but it just doesn't feel that way right now because I just don't know what to do or where to go. We have a big search and a big decision ahead of us. It's hard and stressful and anxiety-provoking. It's time to figure it out, though, so that's what we will do.
xo,
~C~
Showing posts with label that's what she said. Show all posts
Showing posts with label that's what she said. Show all posts
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Sunday, April 28, 2013
facebook's annoying, i'm baking, Cincinnati, and vacation
Where've I been, you ask? Well, this past week Strep throat knocked me off my feet (literally) for about 3 days. Wow - I have never had it before and I guess I just thought it was one of those things that people got or they didn't get. Well, I got it. It was worse than I ever realized. So not only did it knock me out of work for 2 days (I was able to work from home the 3rd day), it knocked me off track with Couch to 5K. I'm planning on getting back on track (treadmill) tomorrow but I'm a little nervous. My throat still hurts and otherwise I feel okay, but I don't know if I'm really back up to full strength yet.
We went to Cincinnati to celebrate my nephew's 8th birthday party yesterday and watch him shine at his Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby. It turned out to be a nice day. I was glad we made the last minute decision to make it a day trip instead of a weekend trip. The boys needed the rest and so did I. It was nice having that unplanned day today to just relax and catch up things I was too sick to do last week. As of this moment, I'm waiting for some cookie dough to chill in the fridge. I'm making this:
Okay so that image is a little on the large side but you get the idea. S'mores cookies? Yes, please. If you're thinking I'm strange for talking about diet & exercise in one paragraph and then S'mores cookies in the next, I guess you're right. But I'm not giving up everything that I love. One word. Moderation. I wouldn't last on any diet where I felt deprived. Moderation.
In other unrelated randomness, I am getting really super annoyed with Facebook. Too many links and quotes and pictures of the ocean that people didn't take and drama and self-righteous people and on and on and on. Maybe people are annoyed with me for pretty much only posting links to my blog posts and pictures of my kids. I don't care. They can delete me. I feel bad sometimes posting links to my blog but I don't quite have a readership that warrants a fan page. I did recently surpass 50,000 page views however. That only took 2.5 years. :)
What else can we chat about? I am excited about plans and no plans. Lots of plans for May and but not much else planned this summer. Before we know it, it will be Disney time (October!). We did go ahead and purchase plane tickets. I toyed with the idea of driving, but eh. After an 8 hour trip home from Dollywood a couple weeks ago, I changed my mind. Theo started complaining 100 miles from home that his back hurt. He wasn't injured so I can only imagine it was his position in his carseat. I hate sitting for that long too. Flying nonstop 2 hours will be a dream compared to a 16+ hour drive.
My dough's chilled!
night,
~C~
We went to Cincinnati to celebrate my nephew's 8th birthday party yesterday and watch him shine at his Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby. It turned out to be a nice day. I was glad we made the last minute decision to make it a day trip instead of a weekend trip. The boys needed the rest and so did I. It was nice having that unplanned day today to just relax and catch up things I was too sick to do last week. As of this moment, I'm waiting for some cookie dough to chill in the fridge. I'm making this:
Okay so that image is a little on the large side but you get the idea. S'mores cookies? Yes, please. If you're thinking I'm strange for talking about diet & exercise in one paragraph and then S'mores cookies in the next, I guess you're right. But I'm not giving up everything that I love. One word. Moderation. I wouldn't last on any diet where I felt deprived. Moderation.
In other unrelated randomness, I am getting really super annoyed with Facebook. Too many links and quotes and pictures of the ocean that people didn't take and drama and self-righteous people and on and on and on. Maybe people are annoyed with me for pretty much only posting links to my blog posts and pictures of my kids. I don't care. They can delete me. I feel bad sometimes posting links to my blog but I don't quite have a readership that warrants a fan page. I did recently surpass 50,000 page views however. That only took 2.5 years. :)
What else can we chat about? I am excited about plans and no plans. Lots of plans for May and but not much else planned this summer. Before we know it, it will be Disney time (October!). We did go ahead and purchase plane tickets. I toyed with the idea of driving, but eh. After an 8 hour trip home from Dollywood a couple weeks ago, I changed my mind. Theo started complaining 100 miles from home that his back hurt. He wasn't injured so I can only imagine it was his position in his carseat. I hate sitting for that long too. Flying nonstop 2 hours will be a dream compared to a 16+ hour drive.
My dough's chilled!
night,
~C~
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
the most wonderful time of the year
It happens every year. Seasons change. Some years it seems to happen more slowly than others. This year, there are no green leaves on the trees in our Easter egg hunt photos. Last year, the trees were full. This winter has seemed unbearably long.
But today? Today it's going to be 80 degrees. I celebrate.
I celebrate by taking a walk on my break at work. I celebrate by wearing a knee-length skirt with butterflies on it that I've had for (literally) 10 years, bare legs, and flats. I celebrate by rolling my windows down, turning the radio up, and singing loudly (and badly) on my way to work. I celebrate by feeling the warmth on the back of my neck while I'm standing outside. I celebrate by smiling at strangers more. I celebrate by taking my time, taking deep breaths, and taking the boys for wagon rides.
Spending evenings at the park.
Grilling out and enjoying a picnic. Going for frozen yogurt at bedtime. We celebrate.
Some people like the snow. Some people say the Christmas season is the most wonderful time of the year. I say right now is. This is my favorite. I need to live somewhere that has weather like this year round. I feel such a sense of promise and anticipation. Knowing that we have a summer full of fun ahead of us before the weather changes for the worse again.
I'm happy. That doesn't mean life is perfect, but it feels pretty damn close right now. I'm happy. My favorite time of year. Time to celebrate!
But today? Today it's going to be 80 degrees. I celebrate.
I celebrate by taking a walk on my break at work. I celebrate by wearing a knee-length skirt with butterflies on it that I've had for (literally) 10 years, bare legs, and flats. I celebrate by rolling my windows down, turning the radio up, and singing loudly (and badly) on my way to work. I celebrate by feeling the warmth on the back of my neck while I'm standing outside. I celebrate by smiling at strangers more. I celebrate by taking my time, taking deep breaths, and taking the boys for wagon rides.
Grilling out and enjoying a picnic. Going for frozen yogurt at bedtime. We celebrate.
Some people like the snow. Some people say the Christmas season is the most wonderful time of the year. I say right now is. This is my favorite. I need to live somewhere that has weather like this year round. I feel such a sense of promise and anticipation. Knowing that we have a summer full of fun ahead of us before the weather changes for the worse again. I'm happy. That doesn't mean life is perfect, but it feels pretty damn close right now. I'm happy. My favorite time of year. Time to celebrate!
xo,
~C~
Thursday, March 28, 2013
why we said no to co-sleeping
I started to comment the other day on a FB post asking if readers did or didn't co-sleep and why or why not. My comment started to get lengthy. And then I accidentally deleted it. That was the end of me commenting on that post.
We chose from the beginning not to co-sleep. I worked for the Department of Child Services Child Abuse Hotline at the time Theo was born and every child death had to be reported to us. Every unexpected infant death was investigated as a possible abuse/neglect case. We received a startling number of these reports. So the decision, for me, was largely about safety. I did not want me & my baby to become a statistic. I didn't know what I was getting into - how easy it would be to roll over on an infant, etc. I didn't know I would sleep lighter than I'd ever imagined for 2 years after becoming a mother...yowzer, that sucked, but is not the point here. (Disclaimer: That's not to say we didn't doze off during a nursing session and succumb to the exhaustion more than a couple of times during those very early, sleep-deprived weeks. Being a real parent and not just a lady that worked for DCS, I realize that those suffocations usually involve an altered state due to drug use, alcohol, or some other risk factor that did not pertain to us. But notice that I did say USUALLY. Not always. This is still a strong argument for not co-sleeping with an infant).
My decision was not solely based on safety. Someone I knew allowed their child to sleep with them from the beginning and that worked out fine for them. But I knew it wouldn't work for me. It turned into a situation where the childdid not would not go to bed until the parents went to bed. The child ended up sleeping with the parents until age 5 or 6. That's a lot of child-in-your-bed time if you ask me. And as much as I love playing with those little cherubs, I value my me-time after they go to bed. The child didn't end up sleeping with the parents for life. I just saw the fight they had to get the kid to go to bed alone and knew that I didn't want any part of that if I could avoid it.
So we were determined from the beginning to a.) not smother our baby and b.) have our grown up bed to our grown up selves.
Do I regret our decision? Not really. Sometimes. Occasionally. No, not really. Sorry. I had to sort that out in my head for a second.
The only time I regret it is when those cute snuggly little bears do actually crawl into our beds and fall asleep in my arms. They learned to sleep in their beds from the beginning - not to say we didn't rock them, etc. Gah I sound so cruel and cold. WE ARE VERY LOVING, okay? Anyway, they learned to sleep in their beds early on so they don't seem to need that closeness to fall asleep now that they are 1 & 3. However, there is the random occasion when this happens and all I can do is stare at their sweet, peaceful faces and soak it all in. I let my mind wander off to consider what life would be like if we had let them sleep with us all this time. Would they be more snuggly now? They wouldn't sleep with us forever, after all. Childhood goes by so quickly and the years are short, even when the days and nights are long.
Then, while I'm kissing a baby-smooth forehead and smelling a head full of silky hair, the thought starts creeping into my mind, should I have let him sleep with us? Is he going to think this is how it's going to be from now on? Don't worry, I'm able to snap out of it and enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, these moments are all too rare. I'll have to enjoy our snuggles on the couch and before bedtime because these boys are not even interested in sleeping with mom and dad 364 days a year.
Ultimately, I do not have any regrets. We've been lucky in the sleep department for the most part and this lifestyle works for our family. And that's all that matters.
xo,
~C~
We chose from the beginning not to co-sleep. I worked for the Department of Child Services Child Abuse Hotline at the time Theo was born and every child death had to be reported to us. Every unexpected infant death was investigated as a possible abuse/neglect case. We received a startling number of these reports. So the decision, for me, was largely about safety. I did not want me & my baby to become a statistic. I didn't know what I was getting into - how easy it would be to roll over on an infant, etc. I didn't know I would sleep lighter than I'd ever imagined for 2 years after becoming a mother...yowzer, that sucked, but is not the point here. (Disclaimer: That's not to say we didn't doze off during a nursing session and succumb to the exhaustion more than a couple of times during those very early, sleep-deprived weeks. Being a real parent and not just a lady that worked for DCS, I realize that those suffocations usually involve an altered state due to drug use, alcohol, or some other risk factor that did not pertain to us. But notice that I did say USUALLY. Not always. This is still a strong argument for not co-sleeping with an infant).
My decision was not solely based on safety. Someone I knew allowed their child to sleep with them from the beginning and that worked out fine for them. But I knew it wouldn't work for me. It turned into a situation where the child
So we were determined from the beginning to a.) not smother our baby and b.) have our grown up bed to our grown up selves.
Do I regret our decision? Not really. Sometimes. Occasionally. No, not really. Sorry. I had to sort that out in my head for a second.
The only time I regret it is when those cute snuggly little bears do actually crawl into our beds and fall asleep in my arms. They learned to sleep in their beds from the beginning - not to say we didn't rock them, etc. Gah I sound so cruel and cold. WE ARE VERY LOVING, okay? Anyway, they learned to sleep in their beds early on so they don't seem to need that closeness to fall asleep now that they are 1 & 3. However, there is the random occasion when this happens and all I can do is stare at their sweet, peaceful faces and soak it all in. I let my mind wander off to consider what life would be like if we had let them sleep with us all this time. Would they be more snuggly now? They wouldn't sleep with us forever, after all. Childhood goes by so quickly and the years are short, even when the days and nights are long.
Then, while I'm kissing a baby-smooth forehead and smelling a head full of silky hair, the thought starts creeping into my mind, should I have let him sleep with us? Is he going to think this is how it's going to be from now on? Don't worry, I'm able to snap out of it and enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, these moments are all too rare. I'll have to enjoy our snuggles on the couch and before bedtime because these boys are not even interested in sleeping with mom and dad 364 days a year.
Ultimately, I do not have any regrets. We've been lucky in the sleep department for the most part and this lifestyle works for our family. And that's all that matters.
xo,
~C~
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
if you really knew me: part II
To get to know me better, read my first If You Really Knew Me post HERE.
You'd know that I'm giddy right now because I just bought 21 items from Children's Place online for just over $100. (P.S. 30% off purchases over $60 and free shipping!) It's like Christmas over here. Pants, Boots, and Shirts, OH MY! And I do still have a blog post, over a month late, coming up about Christmas.
Back to the If You Really Knew Me stuff...
You’d know that I strongly believe if a town doesn’t have Target, it’s not worth living in. You’d know I went to 5 different elementary schools. You’d know that I’ve always been a writer (and that it’s gotten me into trouble before). You’d know that I’d rather be hot than cold. You’d know that I’m usually cold. You’d know that my dad used to call me Can Dice…or Canned Ice I suppose. (You’d also know that I really don’t like it when people misspell my name). You’d know I’m anal about apostrophes and spelling errors. On that note, you might know that I would've won the school spelling bee when I was in the 2nd grade if the dumb judge hadn't misunderstood me. I spelled most M-O-S-T and they thought I said M-O-S-T-E. Come on. Who spells most with an e? I fought for it though. Lost, but I fought for it.
You’d know I used to sing in a church choir. You’d know I have an adventurous side. I’m not afraid of heights and I love the thrill of a roller coaster or a zipline (did you know I did one in Skagway, Alaska?) Did you know I have a superhero power? Yep, 99% of the times that I randomly grab paperclips or hangers, I get the right number. Jealous yet?
You’d also know that when I was little, I thought I’d get married at age 18 to someone who was 20 and that I’d have our first baby when I was 20. You’d know that I thought I was going to be an astronaut or maybe a nurse, because those are pretty similar. You’d know that my first car was named Penelope, and coincidentally, I now have a niece that bears this name as well. An homage maybe? Maybe not. My niece is much cuter than that old 1984 Pontiac Sunbird. (Sadly, I don’t think I even have any pictures of me and Penelope. The car. Not the baby. I have pictures of me and the baby).
Told ya so.
You’d know I’m obsessed with turquoise/aqua combined with most any color…red, purple, green, orange, yellow – I love it all. My whole house would be aqua, inside and out, with splashes of all other colors if I could get away with it.
Some of my current favorite things ever:
Now do you feel like you really know me?
xo,
~C~
p.s. This is my 300th post of all time! And my 11th post of January, which is 11 more posts than I posted in December. I'm on it.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
to moms (expectant, newborn, and toddler): this is for you
I have some advice / words of wisdom to share with you.
Because all new moms love unsolicited advice.
Because I'm such an expert now that I have an almost 3 year old and an over 1.5+ year old.
Or really, just because I just have all these thing to say that I wish someone would have said to me...or that I wish I would have listened to back then.
First, do yourself a favor and go read You're Doing Good {A Letter of Encouragement} by Sarah over at It's a Vol.
If you're pregnant:
1. Enjoy this. This will not, even if it feels like it will never end, last forever. In the span of your lifetime, 9 months is nothing. This time goes by so quickly and after that baby is born, it will be surreal. You'll be thrilled to bend over. To tie your own shoes. To walk 10 feet without feeling out of breath. But you will miss those kicks (even the ones that take your breath away). You will miss looking at the profile of your round belly in the mirror. You will miss running your hands from the top of your stomach, all the way down to the bottom and feeling your baby react to your touch.
2. Have someone take pictures of you. They don't have to be professional. You don't have to feel pretty or get dressed up. You are beautiful - you will realize this later. You will want to remember the way you look.
3. Lay around as much as you can. Sleep as much as you care to. Go to restaurants to have someone else take care of you and the mess you've made. Enjoy those dinners out because after this baby comes, the last thing you think about doing at a restaurant is relaxing and being taken care of.
4. Don't freak out. Billions of women have gone before you and birthed babies successfully. Your body was built to do this exact thing. Being excited is fine, but don't let anxiety about the birth consume you. In the span of your lifetime, the time labor and delivery takes is nothing. Don't be afraid. It might seem like the longest day of your life, but it will be the best day of your life. Focus on the latter.
If you have a newborn:
1. While becoming a mom may be completely natural, there are things about it that seem to go against nature. Nursing can come naturally, but sometimes it does not. If this is important to you, don't give up. Be stubborn. Billions of women have gone before you and nursed their babies successfully. Your body was built to do this exact thing. But. If it doesn't work out, it's not your fault. And your baby will be fine. Don't let other people make you feel guilty.
2. Ask for help. It doesn't make you less of a mother. It doesn't mean love your baby any less. It doesn't mean you're weak or that you suck at this. It's normal to need a break and it's important to take one when you get a chance.
3. Hold your baby as much as you can. Your baby has been in your womb for 9(ish) months and has been held 24 hours a day. Why would you deprive him or her of that now that she's on the outside? He may need to be held...and it's not going to ruin him. This sweet baby will not always want to be held.
4. You know how they say to sleep when the baby sleeps? Rubbish. You're holding your baby when he's awake; this is the only time you have to get anything done. I missed the boat on this - get a GOOD carrier. One that doesn't hurt your back. Do whatever you need to get done with the baby in the carrier while the baby is awake so you can sit and do jack squat (text, talk on the phone, play Words With Friends, or whatever else makes you feel normal) while the baby sleeps.
5. Get. Out. Of. The. House. There are those days when you can barely find time to shower. Doesn't matter. Pack that baby up and go walk around the your neighborhood. The park. The mall. The grocery store. Fresh air does wonders for baby blues, feelings of isolation, and exhaustion. I was paralyzed by the fear that Theo would puke all over both of us, crap all over himself, and/or scream bloody murder and people would stare. After about 6 weeks, I learned that if the baby pukes, I can clean him up. If he poops, I can clean that up too. If he cries, so what. People have heard babies cry before. I can calm him down. Fresh air improved my mood every time. P.S. Take comfort in knowing that, if there is a second time, it will be soooo much easier the second time.
If you have a little kid:
1. This is just a stage. Whether it's good or bad. Hard or easy. This is going to pass soon. Try not to spend too much time dwelling on the negative. It will get better. It will. There are things you will miss about your child being this age. It's a cycle. Something is always getting easier while something else gets harder. I don't think that ever stops.
2. Today, your child is the smallest she will ever be. She will never be this young again. When you think your little kid is just too grown up, remember this. In the span of her lifetime, the time spent as a little kid is nothing. Cherish it, even when you can't wait for her to be older, bigger, and more independent. She will be more independent next week than she is today.
3. Make memories on purpose, but realize that favorite memories will be ordinary things. Like sitting on the counter while you cook. Or sitting on your lap while you peel an apple for her to eat. Or going to grandma's house. Take pictures. Don't let too many days go by in between.
4. Do things for yourself. By yourself. With a friend. Don't lose sight of who you are just because you have a new role.
What would you add to this list?
~C~
Because all new moms love unsolicited advice.
Because I'm such an expert now that I have an almost 3 year old and an over 1.5+ year old.
Or really, just because I just have all these thing to say that I wish someone would have said to me...or that I wish I would have listened to back then.
First, do yourself a favor and go read You're Doing Good {A Letter of Encouragement} by Sarah over at It's a Vol.
If you're pregnant:
1. Enjoy this. This will not, even if it feels like it will never end, last forever. In the span of your lifetime, 9 months is nothing. This time goes by so quickly and after that baby is born, it will be surreal. You'll be thrilled to bend over. To tie your own shoes. To walk 10 feet without feeling out of breath. But you will miss those kicks (even the ones that take your breath away). You will miss looking at the profile of your round belly in the mirror. You will miss running your hands from the top of your stomach, all the way down to the bottom and feeling your baby react to your touch.
2. Have someone take pictures of you. They don't have to be professional. You don't have to feel pretty or get dressed up. You are beautiful - you will realize this later. You will want to remember the way you look.
3. Lay around as much as you can. Sleep as much as you care to. Go to restaurants to have someone else take care of you and the mess you've made. Enjoy those dinners out because after this baby comes, the last thing you think about doing at a restaurant is relaxing and being taken care of.
4. Don't freak out. Billions of women have gone before you and birthed babies successfully. Your body was built to do this exact thing. Being excited is fine, but don't let anxiety about the birth consume you. In the span of your lifetime, the time labor and delivery takes is nothing. Don't be afraid. It might seem like the longest day of your life, but it will be the best day of your life. Focus on the latter.
If you have a newborn:
1. While becoming a mom may be completely natural, there are things about it that seem to go against nature. Nursing can come naturally, but sometimes it does not. If this is important to you, don't give up. Be stubborn. Billions of women have gone before you and nursed their babies successfully. Your body was built to do this exact thing. But. If it doesn't work out, it's not your fault. And your baby will be fine. Don't let other people make you feel guilty.
2. Ask for help. It doesn't make you less of a mother. It doesn't mean love your baby any less. It doesn't mean you're weak or that you suck at this. It's normal to need a break and it's important to take one when you get a chance.
3. Hold your baby as much as you can. Your baby has been in your womb for 9(ish) months and has been held 24 hours a day. Why would you deprive him or her of that now that she's on the outside? He may need to be held...and it's not going to ruin him. This sweet baby will not always want to be held.
4. You know how they say to sleep when the baby sleeps? Rubbish. You're holding your baby when he's awake; this is the only time you have to get anything done. I missed the boat on this - get a GOOD carrier. One that doesn't hurt your back. Do whatever you need to get done with the baby in the carrier while the baby is awake so you can sit and do jack squat (text, talk on the phone, play Words With Friends, or whatever else makes you feel normal) while the baby sleeps.
5. Get. Out. Of. The. House. There are those days when you can barely find time to shower. Doesn't matter. Pack that baby up and go walk around the your neighborhood. The park. The mall. The grocery store. Fresh air does wonders for baby blues, feelings of isolation, and exhaustion. I was paralyzed by the fear that Theo would puke all over both of us, crap all over himself, and/or scream bloody murder and people would stare. After about 6 weeks, I learned that if the baby pukes, I can clean him up. If he poops, I can clean that up too. If he cries, so what. People have heard babies cry before. I can calm him down. Fresh air improved my mood every time. P.S. Take comfort in knowing that, if there is a second time, it will be soooo much easier the second time.
If you have a little kid:
1. This is just a stage. Whether it's good or bad. Hard or easy. This is going to pass soon. Try not to spend too much time dwelling on the negative. It will get better. It will. There are things you will miss about your child being this age. It's a cycle. Something is always getting easier while something else gets harder. I don't think that ever stops.
2. Today, your child is the smallest she will ever be. She will never be this young again. When you think your little kid is just too grown up, remember this. In the span of her lifetime, the time spent as a little kid is nothing. Cherish it, even when you can't wait for her to be older, bigger, and more independent. She will be more independent next week than she is today.
3. Make memories on purpose, but realize that favorite memories will be ordinary things. Like sitting on the counter while you cook. Or sitting on your lap while you peel an apple for her to eat. Or going to grandma's house. Take pictures. Don't let too many days go by in between.
4. Do things for yourself. By yourself. With a friend. Don't lose sight of who you are just because you have a new role.
What would you add to this list?
~C~
Thursday, November 8, 2012
1 political post
And it's not really even political. It's just me blabbing and getting things off my chest for a minute. I have restrained myself during this entire political season, aside from "liking" things that I ....well... like... on Facebook. I lean to the left. I'm a liberal when it comes to many issues. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of my political views but I don't post on Facebook about how I think I support the superior party and everyone who doesn't is an idiot. I don't believe that. I have a lot of intelligent friends whom I respect that are conservative. I don't think they are idiots when it's not election time so I try to be open minded and remember that just because we don't have the same political priorities, this is still a person that I respect and find interesting.
My Facebook feed has been absolutely littered with hate. Hate for Obama, hate for anyone who has ever received public assistance, and hate for people who voted for Obama, hate-hate-hate. It's disturbing. It has nothing to do with the issues but everything to do with attitudes. There's a huge difference between supporting a candidate or party and spreading hate towards the other. I read a lot more anti-Democrat and anti-Obama posts than anything from my conservative friends. I could probably count on one hand the number of pro-Romney posts I read. I read lots of pro-Obama posts from my liberal pals. What I've gathered from this simple observation is that Democrats love Obama and Republicans love to hate him. I've been trying to figure out the point of posting something every.single.day to remind everyone that they still hate the thing/person/party that they hated yesterday?
Are these posts meant to change my mind? Not mine personally, but people who think like me?
Are they meant to try to prove something or one-up someone? To make them feel better about themselves and their position in life?
Are they meant to form a camaraderie with other like-minded people? By spewing hate and criticism instead of support?
Or are they meant to offend me? Because when people call me (as part of the general population) an idiot for holding the beliefs I hold, I'm a little offended. I'm an intelligent college graduate and I think like one, thankyouverymuch, and just because I'm a liberal it doesn't mean that I think the government should support me.
No one, regardless of how many angry, spiteful or well-written posts they share, is going to change my mind and my convictions. I don't feel the need to try to change anyone else's mind or convince them to see things the way I see them. That's not my burden. I certainly don't want my friends to feel that I think they're stupid because we don't see eye to eye on gay marriage or public assistance or war or healthcare or whatever-the-case-may-be. Them thinking I'm dumb doesn't change my mind. It just makes me question my "friend"ship with them if they can't respect me.
The division I've seen over the past weeks saddens me. Only during election season do these claws come out. I try not to take it personally, really. And nothing has ever been directed at me personally. But I kind of do and it kind of has because my beliefs have been indirectly attacked. They are part of who I am. They make me compassionate. They make me work hard. They make me want to raise my boys to be compassionate and hard working. Take me or leave me - I'm not changing.
And I just had to get that off my chest.
xo,
~C~
My Facebook feed has been absolutely littered with hate. Hate for Obama, hate for anyone who has ever received public assistance, and hate for people who voted for Obama, hate-hate-hate. It's disturbing. It has nothing to do with the issues but everything to do with attitudes. There's a huge difference between supporting a candidate or party and spreading hate towards the other. I read a lot more anti-Democrat and anti-Obama posts than anything from my conservative friends. I could probably count on one hand the number of pro-Romney posts I read. I read lots of pro-Obama posts from my liberal pals. What I've gathered from this simple observation is that Democrats love Obama and Republicans love to hate him. I've been trying to figure out the point of posting something every.single.day to remind everyone that they still hate the thing/person/party that they hated yesterday?
Are these posts meant to change my mind? Not mine personally, but people who think like me?
Are they meant to try to prove something or one-up someone? To make them feel better about themselves and their position in life?
Are they meant to form a camaraderie with other like-minded people? By spewing hate and criticism instead of support?
Or are they meant to offend me? Because when people call me (as part of the general population) an idiot for holding the beliefs I hold, I'm a little offended. I'm an intelligent college graduate and I think like one, thankyouverymuch, and just because I'm a liberal it doesn't mean that I think the government should support me.
No one, regardless of how many angry, spiteful or well-written posts they share, is going to change my mind and my convictions. I don't feel the need to try to change anyone else's mind or convince them to see things the way I see them. That's not my burden. I certainly don't want my friends to feel that I think they're stupid because we don't see eye to eye on gay marriage or public assistance or war or healthcare or whatever-the-case-may-be. Them thinking I'm dumb doesn't change my mind. It just makes me question my "friend"ship with them if they can't respect me.
The division I've seen over the past weeks saddens me. Only during election season do these claws come out. I try not to take it personally, really. And nothing has ever been directed at me personally. But I kind of do and it kind of has because my beliefs have been indirectly attacked. They are part of who I am. They make me compassionate. They make me work hard. They make me want to raise my boys to be compassionate and hard working. Take me or leave me - I'm not changing.
And I just had to get that off my chest.
xo,
~C~
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
breastfeeding an 8 year old
My friend texted me this link to a YouTube video about a mother who nursed her first child until age 5 and the second child is still nursing at age 8 (as of 2007). She also sent with it words like "nasty," "creeptastic," "sick," and "serious mental health issues." That's the typical perception, I suppose. Maybe I'm strange.
When I responded "I guess I don't see it the same way. I think it is bizarre, weird, not my choice, etc. but I don't think it is gross," she reiterated that the video showed the girls drawing pictures of their mom's boobs, touching their mom's boobs, and that they had named mom's boobs. Then she said "we'll have to agree to disagree on this one," without asking or waiting to see what else I had to say about it.
Hmm. Okay.
The family in the video has (what sounds like) a British accent. My understanding is that in lots of countries, it is not uncommon to nurse a toddler or even a preschooler (also known as extended breastfeeding). The World Health Organization recommends nursing children to age 2 and beyond. The American Academy of Pediatrics supports nursing for as long and the mother and child both desire: "There is no upper limit to the duration of breastfeeding and no evidence of psychologic or developmental harm from breastfeeding into the third year of life or longer."
For sure, nursing an 8 year old is not the norm.
My point? I didn't pick up on any sexual undertones from the video. Yeah, it's weird that the girls draw pictures and name their mom's boobs, but they are still little kids and I guess if that is a normal part of their lives, it will be a topic of conversation and whatnot. The video didn't say the girls ONLY draw pictures of their mom's boobs. It didn't say they grope their mom's boobs. It didn't indicate that they were obsessed with their mom's boobs. No one was forcing anyone to do anything they didn't want to do. I dunno. The video was about the extended breastfeeding, so mom's boobs were the only topic discussed during the interview. Something tells me they don't just sit around and focus on nothing but mom's boobs, day in and day out. They seemed like happy, healthy girls and I doubt they will need therapy because of extended, extended breastfeeding. If anything, they might be embarrassed that this video is circulating on the internet.
And, no. I don't plan on breastfeeding Dexter until he has zits. Here is an interesting article by Mayim Bialik (remember Blossom!?) about nursing her toddler.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sexual. That's what boobs are to us Americans. Sexual things. Private parts that should be covered up and not discussed or looked at or respected for what they were intended to do. They exist to serve a purpose and it isn't just to make other people horny. They are there to feed babies, plain and simple.
This video and brief text exchange got me thinking. I don't want this post to ramble on and on, but this is where the going-off-on-a-tangent thing happens. I want to change the subject a bit and focus on the sexualization of female breasts and what that has done to our society.
I shouldn't feel ashamed or embarrassed to feed my baby in public, but I do. IF it is necessary, then I do it discreetly and I bet no one even knows what is happening except for the people I'm with. I typically try to wait until we get to the car. No, I will not nurse my baby in the bathroom, because that is disgusting. Who wants to hear and smell other people taking a dump while they are eating? Not my baby.
In many other countries, no discretion is expected or required when a mother nurses her baby. Because of the culture I was raised in, I wouldn't feel comfortable whipping a boob out to feed a baby while I finish up my grocery shopping. But it's not because I think there's anything wrong with that. It's just not accepted in the society I live in. I have read a dozen or more articles about nursing mamas being told to do this or go there when they are seen breastfeeding in public because it is "indecent." Other moms said they didn't want their children around that. They didn't want to have to explain that to their kids' virgin eyes. Explain what? That mothers feed their babies? How would you explain the way a dog or cat nurses their puppies or kittens? Would you say that they are indecent and disgusting? It's the exact same freakin' thing.
I get passionate about a few things and I guess this is one of them. If I had never nursed a baby, I might have a different view. Something as wonderful as breastfeeding your baby should not be a source of shame or stress for the mother or the child.
That's how I see it, and to be honest, I don't care one bit if people agree or disagree with me. I say if you wanna breastfeed your 8 year old, more power to ya. I would love to hear what other people, mamas or not, think about this. Am I totally alone here?
~C~
P.S. I have had a handful of people tell me that they can't or have had trouble commenting on my blog. If you are one of those people or if you have ever had trouble commenting on my blog, please try the new format. If you still have trouble, please email me and let me know. I'd hate to think people aren't commenting because they can't! Your comments make my day.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
we're rear-facing until 24 months (at least)
Theo (at 18 months) in his Graco My Ride 65
I hate how skittish I am when it comes to blogging things that readers might find offensive. I've wanted to talk about how my kids will remain rear-facing in their car seats until they are at least 2 for quite awhile. Especially since I read this post by Mommyboots on the same subject. But the thing is, I don't want to come off like I think I'm a better mom or that I think I care more about my kids than anyone whose toddler is forward facing. My assumption is that lots of parents are misinformed - by their pediatricians even - or have never had the inclination to read the research for themselves about why rear-facing is so important. I would never want other moms to think I'm telling them how to raise their kid. I certainly don't want anyone telling me how to raise mine, so this post is just about sharing information. Is that cool, guys? If not, you better scoot along right now.
I've gotten strange looks and even a handful of (almost condescending "oh isn't that cute?") comments about how safety-oriented I am (as if that's a bad thing?) because Theo is now 19 months and is still rear facing in his car seat. That shocks me, considering that American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that ALL children remain rear facing until at least age 2 for their safety. At Theo's 9 and 12 month appointments, our pediatrician reminded us of the risks involved in turning a child age 12-23 months forward facing. I don't consider myself the nutty, hovering-helicopter type by any means. The simple truth is that this is an easy way to make my child FIVE times safer in his car seat and 75 percent less likely to die in an automobile accident. Let's face it - people are crazy and you never know who you are on the road with. Plus, these convertible seats are a pain in the butt to install. So it's actually LESS work leaving him rear facing longer. Lazy person's bonus right there.
I guess some people say their kid doesn't like to be rear-facing because they can't see out as well. If that was the only experience they'd had, they wouldn't know any better. Some people say their kid cries when they are rear-facing. Isn't that better than taking the chance of them sustaining fatal or permanent injuries? Some parents say that their kid's legs are too long. Kids sit with their legs crossed all the time. So do I. It's not uncomfortable at all. Other parents might think that kids suffer broken legs more often in a crash when they are rear-facing. Not true. More children suffer broken legs when they are forward facing.
The research shows that a rear-facing car seat deflects the impact of a collision throughout the back of the car seat, the child's back, head, and neck. In a forward facing carseat, the neck takes the brunt of the impact. I can't cite all of this information because it has come from multiple sites and articles that I have read, but if you take 10 minutes to google how long should by baby stay rear-facing and thumb through the results, you'll read all the same things.
The law is currently that a child cannot be turned forward facing until they meet minimum requirements of 20 pounds and 12 months. The law is not that they must be turned forward facing at that time. I look for the laws about this to change soon - the research strongly supports favorable outcomes for children who rear-face well beyond 12 months.
Courtesy of University of Michigan Child Passenger Protection
Just look at the image above from a 2007 crash test comparison. It's pretty convincing when you see the difference in how the baby's body is affected by the impact. According to this article, "the mass of the head of a small child is about 25% of the body mass whereas the mass of the adult head is only 6%! A small child's neck sustains massive amounts of force in a crash. The body is held back by the straps while the head is thrown forward - stressing, stretching or even breaking the spinal cord."
I'm like the next mom - I have a love/hate relationship with milestones (and turning your toddler forward-facing is certainly a big one). I love moving to the next exciting developmental stage, but I hate how that always means that we're leaving the newborn days further and further behind. Even though I know it will be easier to interact with them when they are forward-facing....even though I suspect they will enjoy road trips much more when they are forward facing....I'm not rushing this milestone.
If you don't believe me, because I'm certainly not an expert, please check out some of the resources below.
If your 12-23 month old child is currently forward-facing, I hope you'll consider repositioning his or her car seat. And I hope I haven't made you mad - it's just because this is really important to me and because I sincerely care.
Comments, questions, ridicule, and suggestions are very welcomed.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
rape: how far is too far?
Disclaimer: this is a mommy blog, usually. This has nothing to do with mommy-ness or my children. Just something I can't get off my mind. So here goes.
I mentioned in a previous post that we had the opportunity to go to the movies this weekend. We saw Straw Dogs. Synopsis: "David and Amy Sumner, a Hollywood screenwriter and his actress wife, return to her small hometown in the deep South to prepare the family home for sale after her father's death. Once there, tensions build in their marriage and old conflicts re-emerge with the locals, including Amy's ex-boyfriend Charlie, leading to a violent confrontation" (Yahoo).
The movie is Rated R and details about the reasoning for the rating includes "strong brutal violence including a sexual attack." I was not familiar with the 1971 original, therefore I did not know that the 2011 remake also had a graphic rape scene. The original film was apparently banned in various venues following its release due to the violent, disturbing content.
I wish I could remember the name of a movie I saw within the past 2 or 3 years that also had a graphic rape scene. I recall telling my husband that I, a woman who has never been raped or physically attacked, was extremely uncomfortable watching the scene. I felt the exact same way watching the scene in Straw Dogs this past weekend. I had to look away several times and wondered why the director felt it necessary to show so much when a whole lot less would have gotten the point across. I can't imagine what anyone who has been raped would feel while watching the movie.
Since that experience I had a couple of years ago, I've thought that movies with this type of scene should warn viewers. "Warning: This film contains a graphic, violent rape scene that may be disturbing to some viewers." Is that enough? Or too much? Sure, the rating details explain that the movie contains a "sexual attack." But who looks up the reason behind a movie rating before going to the theater?
If a warning about rape is required, then what else will require a warning? I know...once you start that kinda ball rolling, it's hard to stop it.
Kate Bosworth plays the victim of rape in the 2011 version of Straw Dogs. Alexander Skarsgard plays one of the rapists.
I dunno, guys. I'm not trying to be all Miss Picky-Picky. Truthfully as a whole, I was entertained by the movie and enjoyed the storyline. I just wish they would have left that rape scene out. I suppose I'm looking out for someone who might be re-traumatized by this sort of thing. It just feels wrong and unnecessary.
Thoughts?
Has anyone else seen Straw Dogs (either version)?
~C~
I mentioned in a previous post that we had the opportunity to go to the movies this weekend. We saw Straw Dogs. Synopsis: "David and Amy Sumner, a Hollywood screenwriter and his actress wife, return to her small hometown in the deep South to prepare the family home for sale after her father's death. Once there, tensions build in their marriage and old conflicts re-emerge with the locals, including Amy's ex-boyfriend Charlie, leading to a violent confrontation" (Yahoo).
The movie is Rated R and details about the reasoning for the rating includes "strong brutal violence including a sexual attack." I was not familiar with the 1971 original, therefore I did not know that the 2011 remake also had a graphic rape scene. The original film was apparently banned in various venues following its release due to the violent, disturbing content.
2011
Since that experience I had a couple of years ago, I've thought that movies with this type of scene should warn viewers. "Warning: This film contains a graphic, violent rape scene that may be disturbing to some viewers." Is that enough? Or too much? Sure, the rating details explain that the movie contains a "sexual attack." But who looks up the reason behind a movie rating before going to the theater?
If a warning about rape is required, then what else will require a warning? I know...once you start that kinda ball rolling, it's hard to stop it.
Kate Bosworth plays the victim of rape in the 2011 version of Straw Dogs. Alexander Skarsgard plays one of the rapists.
"I told Alex not to worry about me, to just go for it. I said, I need you to lose yourself in this moment," Bosworth told Black Book in a recent interview. "And it was actually violent," Bosworth continued. "He's a huge guy. When he was ripping off my clothes in front of a room filled with men, even though I knew it was make-believe, it was still incredibly violating and terrifying. The panic you see flooding me in that rape scene is real."
I dunno, guys. I'm not trying to be all Miss Picky-Picky. Truthfully as a whole, I was entertained by the movie and enjoyed the storyline. I just wish they would have left that rape scene out. I suppose I'm looking out for someone who might be re-traumatized by this sort of thing. It just feels wrong and unnecessary.
Thoughts?
Has anyone else seen Straw Dogs (either version)?
~C~
Friday, September 9, 2011
where were you? (9.11.01)
Knowing that the 10th anniversary of 9/11 was coming up, I've done a lot of reflecting. I have recorded and watched several shows that recapped every detail of that day. I don't know why I want to put myself through watching it and feeling that emotion all over again, but it's something that I'm drawn to do.
I didn't know anyone who lost a loved one on 9/11. I didn't know anyone who was even in New York or DC the day the towers and the Pentagon were struck. Do all Americans (or humans?) feel this strong connection to what happened, even if they weren't directly affected?
****
I was 21, living in Tennesee, and working for a group home for kids with developmental disabilities. I had driven up north to visit my fabulous boyfriend (who turned in to my fabulous husband) and spend the weekend with his family at their cabin on a small lake. R had been off work on Monday but had to go back that Tuesday morning. I had to work Tuesday night so I got in the shower after he left for work. He lived at home with his mom and dad at that time and worked just 5 minutes down the road.
After I got out of the shower, I went back into R's room to finish packing up and getting ready to go. I walked out to the living room and R's mom was sitting there watching the news in silence. It was obvious that something serious was happening and it wasn't long before I understood that a plane had crashed into the first tower. It was shocking and sad, knowing that lots of people had lost their lives. I went back to R's room to gather my things and turned on the T.V. As I was sitting there, I watched with the rest of the world as the second plane crashed into the second tower. I remember a gut-wrenching feeling washing over me as I realized that this was in no way an accident.
Still though, I didn't realize the gravity of what was happening or how it would affect so many people for so many years to come. I know I had a conversation with R's mom about it, but I don't remember what was said. I think we were both in awe. I got on the road to head back home because I had to work that night. I listened to news radio, as the coverage was the only thing that was on all day as I made the 5+ hour drive back to Tennessee.
As the events unfolded ... the Pentagon was struck...the towers collapsed... I wondered when it would end. How many lives would be lost? I listened to it all as I drove and drove and drove. The road felt different that day. There were no planes flying taking off or landing as I passed airports. I sobbed in my car as reality set in. I got home in time to get to work and as I walked in, it was quiet. Usually a rambunctious group of kids and co-workers, they were all gathered around the television watching the news. We did our jobs but stayed tuned in to what was going on. I remember around 8 or 9 that night, we all took turns going to the gas station to fill up because there were reports that gas prices were going to soar.
In the following days, as the death toll climbed, what had happened started sinking in. I remember seeing signs with messages of love and support and American flags everywhere, uniting us as fellow Americans. Not just white people or black people. Not just Democrats or Republicans. That was before the blame and accusations started. Before all middle-eastern Americans were regarded as terrorists. Before I realized how very alive racism is in America. Before our country was torn apart by this war. The death toll continues to climb today.
When I watch these shows today, I feel just exactly like I did 10 years ago. I feel sick with grief for the people that lost their loved ones. I get overwhelmed with emotion, imagining how scary it must have been to be on one of those planes. Or to be in one of the buildings, watching as the plane came straight for them. Or to be a firefighter or policeman climbing up the stairwell when everyone else was climbing down, knowing that I might not come back out. It pains me to think about the innocent children that died. The children that were left without one or both parents as a result of what happened. In an instant, life changed for everyone. We can't go back and un-crash the planes. I can't un-see it on television and un-hear it on the radio. I can't un-feel what I've felt for the last 10 years every time I think about it. I feel so drawn to and connected to this tragedy and I can't explain why.
I can't imagine what it's like for people who were directly impacted then and those who continue to be affected by it now. My heart goes out to them today and every day. I can't believe it's been 10 years.
~C~
I didn't know anyone who lost a loved one on 9/11. I didn't know anyone who was even in New York or DC the day the towers and the Pentagon were struck. Do all Americans (or humans?) feel this strong connection to what happened, even if they weren't directly affected?
****
I was 21, living in Tennesee, and working for a group home for kids with developmental disabilities. I had driven up north to visit my fabulous boyfriend (who turned in to my fabulous husband) and spend the weekend with his family at their cabin on a small lake. R had been off work on Monday but had to go back that Tuesday morning. I had to work Tuesday night so I got in the shower after he left for work. He lived at home with his mom and dad at that time and worked just 5 minutes down the road.
After I got out of the shower, I went back into R's room to finish packing up and getting ready to go. I walked out to the living room and R's mom was sitting there watching the news in silence. It was obvious that something serious was happening and it wasn't long before I understood that a plane had crashed into the first tower. It was shocking and sad, knowing that lots of people had lost their lives. I went back to R's room to gather my things and turned on the T.V. As I was sitting there, I watched with the rest of the world as the second plane crashed into the second tower. I remember a gut-wrenching feeling washing over me as I realized that this was in no way an accident.
Still though, I didn't realize the gravity of what was happening or how it would affect so many people for so many years to come. I know I had a conversation with R's mom about it, but I don't remember what was said. I think we were both in awe. I got on the road to head back home because I had to work that night. I listened to news radio, as the coverage was the only thing that was on all day as I made the 5+ hour drive back to Tennessee.
As the events unfolded ... the Pentagon was struck...the towers collapsed... I wondered when it would end. How many lives would be lost? I listened to it all as I drove and drove and drove. The road felt different that day. There were no planes flying taking off or landing as I passed airports. I sobbed in my car as reality set in. I got home in time to get to work and as I walked in, it was quiet. Usually a rambunctious group of kids and co-workers, they were all gathered around the television watching the news. We did our jobs but stayed tuned in to what was going on. I remember around 8 or 9 that night, we all took turns going to the gas station to fill up because there were reports that gas prices were going to soar.
In the following days, as the death toll climbed, what had happened started sinking in. I remember seeing signs with messages of love and support and American flags everywhere, uniting us as fellow Americans. Not just white people or black people. Not just Democrats or Republicans. That was before the blame and accusations started. Before all middle-eastern Americans were regarded as terrorists. Before I realized how very alive racism is in America. Before our country was torn apart by this war. The death toll continues to climb today.
When I watch these shows today, I feel just exactly like I did 10 years ago. I feel sick with grief for the people that lost their loved ones. I get overwhelmed with emotion, imagining how scary it must have been to be on one of those planes. Or to be in one of the buildings, watching as the plane came straight for them. Or to be a firefighter or policeman climbing up the stairwell when everyone else was climbing down, knowing that I might not come back out. It pains me to think about the innocent children that died. The children that were left without one or both parents as a result of what happened. In an instant, life changed for everyone. We can't go back and un-crash the planes. I can't un-see it on television and un-hear it on the radio. I can't un-feel what I've felt for the last 10 years every time I think about it. I feel so drawn to and connected to this tragedy and I can't explain why.
I can't imagine what it's like for people who were directly impacted then and those who continue to be affected by it now. My heart goes out to them today and every day. I can't believe it's been 10 years.
~C~
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
retarded
When I hear someone casually use the word "retarded," it makes me cringe, makes me uncomfortable. It makes my skin crawl. When I started my blog, I made a list of topics I wanted to blog about and this one has remained untouched 7 months later. I don't know how to approach the subject because I know people will think I'm too touchy. Too sensitive. Too PC. I'm not, really, but this subject is something that is close to my heart.
I started reading a blog called Enjoying the Small Things with the entry linked up here - it's the story of the author's daughter's birth. It wasn't until Nella Cordelia was born that Kelle knew her daughter had Down Syndrome. Her story of that day and since is a beautiful one, both in pictures and words. Hers is not a special needs blog, but a blog about a family in which there is a child who has special needs. I'm bringing up Kelle's blog because she wrote a great piece that inspired me to go ahead and express my thoughts about using the words "retard" and "retarded" in a derogatory way. I encourage you to read said inspiring post about Down Syndrome Awareness here.
My first memory of using the word "retard" or "retarded" is also the last time I used it in a derogatory way. I was 13 and I had just met the person who would become one of my best lifelong friends. We were talking on the phone and I said something was retarded and there was a pause on the other end. She said "my sister is retarded" and without thinking, I joked "yeah, mine is too." My friend explained to me that her younger sister had Down Syndrome and instantly I felt like the biggest fool with the biggest foot in the biggest mouth.
From that moment on, I made a conscious effort not to use the r-word so flippantly. Five years later, I found myself working as a front end manager in a grocery store. Some of my favorite customers were staff and residents from nearby group homes for individuals with developmental disabilities. They were regulars and it always brightened my day to talk to the regulars - especially the residents who had also begun to recognize me. A couple of the staff must have noticed that I enjoyed interacting with the residents and suggested that I apply for a job with their agency. Coincidentally, my friend had been working there for a few months loved it.
I applied, got the job, and ended up working there for 4+ years (until I relocated to the midwest). Caring for and spending time with individuals with severe mental retardation and various other physical and mental diagnoses became a passion of mine. I was their friend and advocate. These amazing people that I cared for and about were as much my friends and family as I was theirs. I certainly spent more of my waking hours with them than I did anyone else. My friend and I eventually moved in together and had several sleepovers with our favorite residents. We took them to our homes for the holidays so they wouldn't have to sit at the group home. We included them in so many aspects of our lives outside of work. It was a unique and special job.
They drooled. They limped. They used wheelchairs. They made a mess when they ate, if they could even feed themselves. They wore incontinence briefs and sometimes had accidents in public. They yelled at the movies and made a scene at restaurants. They couldn't talk.
But guess what?
They taught me about trust and not just tolerance, but acceptance. They reminded me that the greatest joys are found in seemingly insignificant things. They showed me how much can be said without words. They exemplified inner beauty. More than anything, they taught me about judgment. Judging and being judged. Being non-judgmental.
Back when I worked with these wonderful people on a daily basis, I was hardcore. Anytime anyone said "that's retarded" or "you're such a retard" or called someone Corky, I made a scene. Sometimes I just got mad, but most of the time I tried to explain why it is no longer okay to use these words, references, etc. to make a point.
I heard a lot of excuses and but-but-buts when I tried to correct people. Here are some faves:
But-but-but-but, I wouldn't say that to their face. Besides, I have a cousin that has Downs! This makes it twice as bad. First of all, if you wouldn't say it to his or her face out of respect, why would you say it behind his or her back? And if you have a cousin or uncle or nephew or gerbil with Downs, then you should know better, jerk! How would your cousin feel if he knew you were making fun of him behind his back?
Well, I didn't reeeally mean you/he/she is a RETARD. I meant you're dumb/silly/stupid, etc. Well, then. Let's have a vocabulary lesson. "Retard" is a verb, not a noun. Retard means "to delay the development or progress of (an action, process, etc.)" If you mean to say dumb, stupid, or silly, say dumb, stupid, or silly.
Oh, I don't mean anything by it. Don't take it so personally. I do take it personally. Know why? Because I spent 40 hours a week for four and a half years with the people that you are making fun of when you use that word and it feels like a personal attack against people that I love. When you say it, you aren't complimenting anyone or anything. You are perpetuating a societal culture of intolerance towards individuals with developmental disabilities.
We have allowed this dehumanization to go on long enough. The terminology keeps changing because we insist on using whatever term is used to describe people with disabilities and make a joke out of it. In the early 1900s, the terms moron, idiot, and imbecile were used to describe different levels of mental retardation. No one associates those terms with people with disabilities anymore because they are all slang for unintelligent, dumb, stupid, etc.
I think a lot about what we are teaching our kids when we, as parents, use words like "retard" and "retarded." If a child hears these words repeatedly used in a derogatory fashion, they will assimilate them into their own vocabulary and thought process. Retard = bad/negative/dumb/stupid, etc. (The same goes with calling things or people "gay" in a derogatory fashion, but that's another topic for another day). It only makes sense to me that the association teaches children to be intolerant/fearful/unaccepting when they are exposed to someone who is developmentally delayed. Who drools, limps, uses a wheelchair, can't talk, and still has accidents when they are 15 years old. Someone who makes a scene at the movies or the mall.
Are you teaching your child to walk out of their way to avoid that person at the mall? Or are you teaching them to smile and say hello? I want to teach my kids from an early age that there are all kinds of people in the world and their abilities and disabilities make them no more or less human than one another. It's important to me that my kids know that they are not superior and have no right to make fun of another child because he or she has disabilities and walks or talks different and has to be in a special class at school.
It's my dream that my kid is the one that stands up for children with special needs and goes out of their way to talk to them, not to avoid them.
When did I start caring or worrying about being too PC or offending someone that has offended me? At some point, I think I got tired of fighting a losing battle and decided it wasn't always my battle to fight. So now, most of the time, when someone says the "r" word, I just cringe and think to myself "I wish she/he wouldn't say that anymore." Here I am, fighting the good fight once again. If you use the word in ordinary conversation (like so many others do), please make an effort replace it with a word that better reflects what you really mean. Is that too much to ask?
hopeful,
~C~
I started reading a blog called Enjoying the Small Things with the entry linked up here - it's the story of the author's daughter's birth. It wasn't until Nella Cordelia was born that Kelle knew her daughter had Down Syndrome. Her story of that day and since is a beautiful one, both in pictures and words. Hers is not a special needs blog, but a blog about a family in which there is a child who has special needs. I'm bringing up Kelle's blog because she wrote a great piece that inspired me to go ahead and express my thoughts about using the words "retard" and "retarded" in a derogatory way. I encourage you to read said inspiring post about Down Syndrome Awareness here.
My first memory of using the word "retard" or "retarded" is also the last time I used it in a derogatory way. I was 13 and I had just met the person who would become one of my best lifelong friends. We were talking on the phone and I said something was retarded and there was a pause on the other end. She said "my sister is retarded" and without thinking, I joked "yeah, mine is too." My friend explained to me that her younger sister had Down Syndrome and instantly I felt like the biggest fool with the biggest foot in the biggest mouth.
From that moment on, I made a conscious effort not to use the r-word so flippantly. Five years later, I found myself working as a front end manager in a grocery store. Some of my favorite customers were staff and residents from nearby group homes for individuals with developmental disabilities. They were regulars and it always brightened my day to talk to the regulars - especially the residents who had also begun to recognize me. A couple of the staff must have noticed that I enjoyed interacting with the residents and suggested that I apply for a job with their agency. Coincidentally, my friend had been working there for a few months loved it.
I applied, got the job, and ended up working there for 4+ years (until I relocated to the midwest). Caring for and spending time with individuals with severe mental retardation and various other physical and mental diagnoses became a passion of mine. I was their friend and advocate. These amazing people that I cared for and about were as much my friends and family as I was theirs. I certainly spent more of my waking hours with them than I did anyone else. My friend and I eventually moved in together and had several sleepovers with our favorite residents. We took them to our homes for the holidays so they wouldn't have to sit at the group home. We included them in so many aspects of our lives outside of work. It was a unique and special job.
They drooled. They limped. They used wheelchairs. They made a mess when they ate, if they could even feed themselves. They wore incontinence briefs and sometimes had accidents in public. They yelled at the movies and made a scene at restaurants. They couldn't talk.
But guess what?
They taught me about trust and not just tolerance, but acceptance. They reminded me that the greatest joys are found in seemingly insignificant things. They showed me how much can be said without words. They exemplified inner beauty. More than anything, they taught me about judgment. Judging and being judged. Being non-judgmental.
Back when I worked with these wonderful people on a daily basis, I was hardcore. Anytime anyone said "that's retarded" or "you're such a retard" or called someone Corky, I made a scene. Sometimes I just got mad, but most of the time I tried to explain why it is no longer okay to use these words, references, etc. to make a point.
I heard a lot of excuses and but-but-buts when I tried to correct people. Here are some faves:
But-but-but-but, I wouldn't say that to their face. Besides, I have a cousin that has Downs! This makes it twice as bad. First of all, if you wouldn't say it to his or her face out of respect, why would you say it behind his or her back? And if you have a cousin or uncle or nephew or gerbil with Downs, then you should know better, jerk! How would your cousin feel if he knew you were making fun of him behind his back?
Well, I didn't reeeally mean you/he/she is a RETARD. I meant you're dumb/silly/stupid, etc. Well, then. Let's have a vocabulary lesson. "Retard" is a verb, not a noun. Retard means "to delay the development or progress of (an action, process, etc.)" If you mean to say dumb, stupid, or silly, say dumb, stupid, or silly.
Oh, I don't mean anything by it. Don't take it so personally. I do take it personally. Know why? Because I spent 40 hours a week for four and a half years with the people that you are making fun of when you use that word and it feels like a personal attack against people that I love. When you say it, you aren't complimenting anyone or anything. You are perpetuating a societal culture of intolerance towards individuals with developmental disabilities.
We have allowed this dehumanization to go on long enough. The terminology keeps changing because we insist on using whatever term is used to describe people with disabilities and make a joke out of it. In the early 1900s, the terms moron, idiot, and imbecile were used to describe different levels of mental retardation. No one associates those terms with people with disabilities anymore because they are all slang for unintelligent, dumb, stupid, etc.
I think a lot about what we are teaching our kids when we, as parents, use words like "retard" and "retarded." If a child hears these words repeatedly used in a derogatory fashion, they will assimilate them into their own vocabulary and thought process. Retard = bad/negative/dumb/stupid, etc. (The same goes with calling things or people "gay" in a derogatory fashion, but that's another topic for another day). It only makes sense to me that the association teaches children to be intolerant/fearful/unaccepting when they are exposed to someone who is developmentally delayed. Who drools, limps, uses a wheelchair, can't talk, and still has accidents when they are 15 years old. Someone who makes a scene at the movies or the mall.
Are you teaching your child to walk out of their way to avoid that person at the mall? Or are you teaching them to smile and say hello? I want to teach my kids from an early age that there are all kinds of people in the world and their abilities and disabilities make them no more or less human than one another. It's important to me that my kids know that they are not superior and have no right to make fun of another child because he or she has disabilities and walks or talks different and has to be in a special class at school.
It's my dream that my kid is the one that stands up for children with special needs and goes out of their way to talk to them, not to avoid them.
When did I start caring or worrying about being too PC or offending someone that has offended me? At some point, I think I got tired of fighting a losing battle and decided it wasn't always my battle to fight. So now, most of the time, when someone says the "r" word, I just cringe and think to myself "I wish she/he wouldn't say that anymore." Here I am, fighting the good fight once again. If you use the word in ordinary conversation (like so many others do), please make an effort replace it with a word that better reflects what you really mean. Is that too much to ask?
hopeful,
~C~
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)