They say the average man thinks about sex about every 7 seconds*. I think that I think about sex at least twice that amount. Honestly, I think about sex all the time.
*You might be surprised to hear that this popular claim actually has not scientific backing, but we're gonna go with it since it illustrates my point perfectly!
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Appropriate
****This was written a few months ago and left sitting in draft form. Not sure why I didn't publish it, and it is unfinished...but I really have nothing more to add. Publishing now!****
Appropriateness is something I think about a lot in my world, and in a lot of different contexts. If I had to put a rating on my life, it'd would be PG-13 when I'm on my best behavior and X-Rated most of the rest of the time. Flirting, sexual innuendo, sexual humor...these are the things that amuse me and that I generally fall back on when I'm in casual conversation. Booze increases the changes of this shit being thrown around, of course. And even when I'm being appropriate for the surroundings, I'm likely to drop the F-bomb or other curse words indiscriminately.
None of this is a problem for me. But live in a world surrounded by children and other adults who may (or may not) be offended by me. Most of the time I don't give a shit. Especially when it comes to adults. My general philosophy about adults is that I'm just gonna do me and if someone doesn't like it, thinks it's too much, is offended...whatever...that's not my problem. I think I'm a pretty awesome friend - once you are in my inner-circle, I'll give whatever I can to be a good friend to you. I'm loyal as hell and dedicated to those who love me. So while I think about it with grown ups, it's not often a factor.
Case in point - a few months ago, I hung out with some old friends of mine at a concert. They had invited me and some of their other friends. Another couple came - and these are women I have heard of through the lesbian grapevine. Kelly and I have never really been a part of the network of lesbians in this area. We came into this area coupled, never spent much time out and haven't really dabbled all that much in the lesbian scene. This couple is just the opposite. They are very well known, well-connected women that I have heard about for years. They are the type of couple whose name gets passed around and dropped. You see how this is setting up, right? There comes a point where you hear the same names for so long that they almost take on a "famous" quality. You build these people up in your mind and, for me, it gets more intimidating. I generally try not to allow that type of thing - after all, we all shit and fart and love and snort when we laugh. But still, after years of hearing the names, it's hard not to want to actually get to know the people.
Turns out, they are just normal people. As suspected, they are just women who have jobs and kids and each other. They made me laugh, I made them laugh...it was a lovely evening. As I was driving home, though, after a pretty funny conversation about sex (my favorite topic), I found myself wondering what they thought of me.
Now, an aside here for a minute, I try not to think about what people think of me. For years, I have tried to be what other people want to me to be. I try not to rock the boat. I don't want to disappoint people. I live in perpetual fear that the social network I have worked so hard to cultivate will just decide I'm not worth knowing anymore and then I'll be alone. There are a lot of parts of me that recognize that this is just an irrational fear and that, even if my friends all took off, I would still be okay. So I try not to evaluate if people like me. But, of course, after meeting new people, I think about it.
So back to my story. Appropriate. I was wondering on the way home, what they though of me. Was I too much? Was I too loud? Was I too honest? Did they leave and think, "Ha...nope...not gonna be friends with her"?
Appropriateness is something I think about a lot in my world, and in a lot of different contexts. If I had to put a rating on my life, it'd would be PG-13 when I'm on my best behavior and X-Rated most of the rest of the time. Flirting, sexual innuendo, sexual humor...these are the things that amuse me and that I generally fall back on when I'm in casual conversation. Booze increases the changes of this shit being thrown around, of course. And even when I'm being appropriate for the surroundings, I'm likely to drop the F-bomb or other curse words indiscriminately.
None of this is a problem for me. But live in a world surrounded by children and other adults who may (or may not) be offended by me. Most of the time I don't give a shit. Especially when it comes to adults. My general philosophy about adults is that I'm just gonna do me and if someone doesn't like it, thinks it's too much, is offended...whatever...that's not my problem. I think I'm a pretty awesome friend - once you are in my inner-circle, I'll give whatever I can to be a good friend to you. I'm loyal as hell and dedicated to those who love me. So while I think about it with grown ups, it's not often a factor.
Case in point - a few months ago, I hung out with some old friends of mine at a concert. They had invited me and some of their other friends. Another couple came - and these are women I have heard of through the lesbian grapevine. Kelly and I have never really been a part of the network of lesbians in this area. We came into this area coupled, never spent much time out and haven't really dabbled all that much in the lesbian scene. This couple is just the opposite. They are very well known, well-connected women that I have heard about for years. They are the type of couple whose name gets passed around and dropped. You see how this is setting up, right? There comes a point where you hear the same names for so long that they almost take on a "famous" quality. You build these people up in your mind and, for me, it gets more intimidating. I generally try not to allow that type of thing - after all, we all shit and fart and love and snort when we laugh. But still, after years of hearing the names, it's hard not to want to actually get to know the people.
Turns out, they are just normal people. As suspected, they are just women who have jobs and kids and each other. They made me laugh, I made them laugh...it was a lovely evening. As I was driving home, though, after a pretty funny conversation about sex (my favorite topic), I found myself wondering what they thought of me.
Now, an aside here for a minute, I try not to think about what people think of me. For years, I have tried to be what other people want to me to be. I try not to rock the boat. I don't want to disappoint people. I live in perpetual fear that the social network I have worked so hard to cultivate will just decide I'm not worth knowing anymore and then I'll be alone. There are a lot of parts of me that recognize that this is just an irrational fear and that, even if my friends all took off, I would still be okay. So I try not to evaluate if people like me. But, of course, after meeting new people, I think about it.
So back to my story. Appropriate. I was wondering on the way home, what they though of me. Was I too much? Was I too loud? Was I too honest? Did they leave and think, "Ha...nope...not gonna be friends with her"?
Saturday, September 21, 2013
School Volunteer of the Year
Not that I'm going for that title or anything...but I will say that I get some serious satisfaction from volunteering at our kids' school.
This week, I went in on Friday for the annual Volunteer Orientation. Everyone else there was wearing a "visitors" badge while I had a "volunteer" badge on. I got that because I showed up a half hour early to start work on Bailey's teacher's Friday Folders. Friday Folders include any papers/flyers/fundraisers sent to the teacher from the office along with every bit of work done during the week and last week's homework packages. The job is simple - first alphabetize all the papers, then the folders. Then stuff. Each kid gets one of each paper from the office and then all of their work. Put neatly into the kid's folder and you're done. Simple.
And it's an hour of my day that I get to focus on a job with a beginning and an end. I get to start, and finish, something. I get to organize, alphabetize and - if I'm being honest - check out my kid's handwriting/work/etc again those of her classmates. I love the job! LOVE IT!
But I think I'm going to give it up. Another mom in Bailey's class showed up to the volunteer orientation. She seemed a bit frustrated by the fact that I've been doing Friday Folders for 4 weeks now - every week of school. I emailed Bailey's teacher the first day of school to check in about Bailey and to offer whatever help I could provide. The early bird and all that.
She really seemed to like the idea of a small, easily-accomplished job that has such a high impact on the teacher's ability to teach. So I'm going to give it to her and let her make it her regular thing.
In exchange, I've signed up to be a Reading Buddy. Once a week, I'll head into the school for an hour and a half and give my time to the reading resource teacher. I assume that I'll be reading with students or listening to them read...but who knows? It's her time to use me as she needs and as will help her most. I don't care what I do - the point is to be helpful.
I'm also going to let Bailey's teacher know that I am free to do whatever else she needs. Copies? Cut outs? Project prep? Whatever.
In addition, there is a series of bins that get left in the volunteer "pit". If, say, a 4th grade teacher needs 75 copies, she can leave it there. I'm going to try to make this work this year and provide a resource to any teacher than needs a helping hand. Every Friday from 9:30 - 11:45, I'm free. My reading day will be a different day.
Finally, there is Connor's class. Working with a Pre-K classroom is different. It requires the same style of skills that I use in my regular parenting duties. As such, it seems like much more work to me than working solo on a basic administrative project that has a defined start and beginning. But it's rewarding in its own way. I'd like to set up a regular day (Jen, Jo...are you reading this??) where I go in and help with the tasks. Reading and singing to the kids, herding them back to their seats, handing out snacks, assisting in coloring...whatever. I'm down.
My goal is to give 3 days a week - at least 8 hours a week - to the school. It's kind of perfect. I would by lying if I said that there isn't a selfish element to all of this. Working in a school (not as a teacher, but on the Admin side) is actually a perfect next paid job for me. I network, make contacts, learn the stuff that I can be most helpful with. This week, I made personal contact with the school vice principle and she asked me if I would be willing to help her out. My answer was, ABSOLUTELY YES! I want the contact. If a secretary job opens up, I'd like for her to think of me. Or to be pleasantly surprised when she sees my application in front of her in a couple of years. It's all toward an end.
But also, there is a moral thing about it that really works with who I am. I truly believe that we have to give, give, give. Everywhere we see need, give. Evaluate our strengths, be brave enough to step forward and say yes when the call for help comes. It gives me immense personal satisfaction to provide real service to the people and place that is educating my children. I am so grateful that they are doing a job that I would not be good at and would never, ever choose to do.
The other thing about that I love is that I'm working without getting paid. I gotta say, people, that nothing fills my soul up than doing a job for free. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. The absolute cornerstone of everything I believe in starts with the idea that we all give what we have to give without expectation of reward or return. If everyone did that, this world would be so amazing. Because many people don't do this is no excuse for me not to. In other areas of my life, I think I get taken advantage of. But I really don't care. I honestly don't. I always feel like the people who take advantage of me must have real need if they can square being that type of person. Maybe they are without morals or whatever...but I don't care. Their motivation is not what I'm concerned with.
What I do care about is every time I walk away with a smile larger than the one I brought. I care about the grateful, peaceful looks that I get when I complete a task that someone else was dreading or didn't have time to do. It fills me up to be useful and to have made someone else's day better.
I'd love the recognition at the end of the year. That stuff makes me happy too. But if I walk away having done nothing more than make a teacher's day easier, I'm good.
This week, I went in on Friday for the annual Volunteer Orientation. Everyone else there was wearing a "visitors" badge while I had a "volunteer" badge on. I got that because I showed up a half hour early to start work on Bailey's teacher's Friday Folders. Friday Folders include any papers/flyers/fundraisers sent to the teacher from the office along with every bit of work done during the week and last week's homework packages. The job is simple - first alphabetize all the papers, then the folders. Then stuff. Each kid gets one of each paper from the office and then all of their work. Put neatly into the kid's folder and you're done. Simple.
And it's an hour of my day that I get to focus on a job with a beginning and an end. I get to start, and finish, something. I get to organize, alphabetize and - if I'm being honest - check out my kid's handwriting/work/etc again those of her classmates. I love the job! LOVE IT!
But I think I'm going to give it up. Another mom in Bailey's class showed up to the volunteer orientation. She seemed a bit frustrated by the fact that I've been doing Friday Folders for 4 weeks now - every week of school. I emailed Bailey's teacher the first day of school to check in about Bailey and to offer whatever help I could provide. The early bird and all that.
She really seemed to like the idea of a small, easily-accomplished job that has such a high impact on the teacher's ability to teach. So I'm going to give it to her and let her make it her regular thing.
In exchange, I've signed up to be a Reading Buddy. Once a week, I'll head into the school for an hour and a half and give my time to the reading resource teacher. I assume that I'll be reading with students or listening to them read...but who knows? It's her time to use me as she needs and as will help her most. I don't care what I do - the point is to be helpful.
I'm also going to let Bailey's teacher know that I am free to do whatever else she needs. Copies? Cut outs? Project prep? Whatever.
In addition, there is a series of bins that get left in the volunteer "pit". If, say, a 4th grade teacher needs 75 copies, she can leave it there. I'm going to try to make this work this year and provide a resource to any teacher than needs a helping hand. Every Friday from 9:30 - 11:45, I'm free. My reading day will be a different day.
Finally, there is Connor's class. Working with a Pre-K classroom is different. It requires the same style of skills that I use in my regular parenting duties. As such, it seems like much more work to me than working solo on a basic administrative project that has a defined start and beginning. But it's rewarding in its own way. I'd like to set up a regular day (Jen, Jo...are you reading this??) where I go in and help with the tasks. Reading and singing to the kids, herding them back to their seats, handing out snacks, assisting in coloring...whatever. I'm down.
My goal is to give 3 days a week - at least 8 hours a week - to the school. It's kind of perfect. I would by lying if I said that there isn't a selfish element to all of this. Working in a school (not as a teacher, but on the Admin side) is actually a perfect next paid job for me. I network, make contacts, learn the stuff that I can be most helpful with. This week, I made personal contact with the school vice principle and she asked me if I would be willing to help her out. My answer was, ABSOLUTELY YES! I want the contact. If a secretary job opens up, I'd like for her to think of me. Or to be pleasantly surprised when she sees my application in front of her in a couple of years. It's all toward an end.
But also, there is a moral thing about it that really works with who I am. I truly believe that we have to give, give, give. Everywhere we see need, give. Evaluate our strengths, be brave enough to step forward and say yes when the call for help comes. It gives me immense personal satisfaction to provide real service to the people and place that is educating my children. I am so grateful that they are doing a job that I would not be good at and would never, ever choose to do.
The other thing about that I love is that I'm working without getting paid. I gotta say, people, that nothing fills my soul up than doing a job for free. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. The absolute cornerstone of everything I believe in starts with the idea that we all give what we have to give without expectation of reward or return. If everyone did that, this world would be so amazing. Because many people don't do this is no excuse for me not to. In other areas of my life, I think I get taken advantage of. But I really don't care. I honestly don't. I always feel like the people who take advantage of me must have real need if they can square being that type of person. Maybe they are without morals or whatever...but I don't care. Their motivation is not what I'm concerned with.
What I do care about is every time I walk away with a smile larger than the one I brought. I care about the grateful, peaceful looks that I get when I complete a task that someone else was dreading or didn't have time to do. It fills me up to be useful and to have made someone else's day better.
I'd love the recognition at the end of the year. That stuff makes me happy too. But if I walk away having done nothing more than make a teacher's day easier, I'm good.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Back Then
Most of the time, when I lament our choice to have children, I think about how stupid I was not enjoy the time before kids.
I was 28 when Bailey was born. Her birthday is 8 day after my birthday, so I spent most of my 27th year pregnant. So from 1997 when I graduated high school and started my adult journey until I was 27 in 2006, I had all the time and sleep I could ever need. I had the space to balance the competing demands in my life - school, money and working, falling in love, partying, being a friend - these things had room to exist and I had the energy to balance it all without too much drama.
And the whole entire time, I was aching for the life that I have now. It all had a purpose then - it was toward this. A suburban home with Kelly, two or three children (we called them Gabe and Maddie back then), a dog at some point. The details were not defined, of course. I had no idea what I would be doing or any of that. From almost the beginning, though, we knew that Kelly would work in Accounting and that she would always work. We tossed around other ideas through the years (business schools after college, law school or something like that), but in the end, it was pretty obvious that Kelly wanted to just start working and making her career. What I was going to be and do was still very much in flux.
Anyway - got sidetracked. Back then, Kelly used to get up at 8ish on the weekends. I'd have been up for hours, cleaning and grocery shopping. We'd eat breakfast and go out on adventures. Shopping, hiking, looking at model homes. We'd grab Starbucks and spend an afternoon bouncing around furniture stores, planning the rooms in our someday home. Or another favorite was to pick a topic and then go explore bookstores until we found the book that we thought best represented us in regards to that topic. We ended up with these crazy awesome books and we'd read them together.
And the whole time, I was always focused on getting to these years.
Now, I don't necessarily think that's the wrong thing for me to have done then. It's just what I did. No judgement. But my current self wants to go back and throttle that 20-something version of me. I'd tell her to slow the fuck down, breathe a bit more, give a shit about the image a bit less. I'd make her spend entire days just relishing the freedom and not thinking about the future. I'd make her have more fun - to truly live. I'd spend more money on travelling and I'd wait just a few more years to buy a home and start it all.
I don't think the path Kelly and I have followed is bad. Far from that. I love our life, I'm proud of what we've created together. I wouldn't change it, really, if I ever had the opportunity. I'd never change Bailey and Connor.
I just have more information now than I had then and the simple ease of life back then looks really fucking good.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Fall Cooking
This is the time of year that I remember how much I love my kitchen and all the fall fruits and veggies that I have to cook with. It's when my cravings are for heavier foods - stews, beef, pork with cabbage, anything with apples, carrots, sweet potatoes or squash. Mmmm...just thinking about it makes me hungry! So I thought I would share with you my menu for the week because...well...it's what I'm thinking about!
Today, I'm making a pot roast with onions, carrots, and sweet potatoes. It's in the oven, slowly cooking in our dutch oven on 275 degrees. My house smells divine! This will be for lunch today. Dinner, if we are still hungry after such a rich lunch, will be chef's salads made with boiled eggs (done this morning) and diced chicken with a light seasoning. I'll cook this in a little bit. I like avocados on mine. And grapes. A homemade balsamic vinegrette finishes this meal-style salad nicely. Combine it with some fresh pineapple or cantaloupe and you've got a great evening meal!
I've been running low on homemade chicken stock (I use it almost exclusively to the pre-made crap...I hate salt), so Monday, I'll bake a chicken. In our dutch oven, baking a chicken is a quick and easy way to get some great meat and to end up with plenty of bones, skin and leftover meat to make a great chicken stock. Dinner tomorrow will be baked chicken with roast cauliflower and green beans. I'll also make some steamed acorn squash that I'll mash up with a touch of clarified butter and nutmeg. The leftovers will spend the entire day on Wednesday simmering slowly in my crock pot. The resulting stock will be strained and then put into freezer bags (once it's cool) in 1 cup portions. I always have fresh chicken stock to use this way!
Tuesday and Wednesday are crazy nights in our house. We all have to be out of the house by 6 PM for events on Tuesday night and Bailey has another thing on Wednesday night at 6 PM. I am making a thick, rich beef stew on Monday to cover Tuesday night's dinner. I use carrots, onions, green beans and quartered new, white potatoes. The white potatoes are not pure Whole30, but they are such a lovely addition to the stew. We keep them to a minimum. My beef stew is made with a vegetable juice based beef broth. I use a lower sodium beef stock generally, but I need to make a homemade beef stock soon. I triple the meat in the recipe and it works for a dinner and lunch the next day. Making it a day in advance means I don't have to cook on Tuesday, but also the stew is better when it's marinated overnight. The flavors are so much better.
Wednesday is my "easy food" night. I'm making homemade turkey burgers and coupling it with homemade sweet potato fries and fruit. This will be an eat-when-you're-ready kind of night. I pile my turkey burgers high with avocado and fresh salsa and skip the bun. Fresh sliced tomatoes and a tiny bit of mustard make this an extremely filling, but satisfying meal.
Thursday, I'm branching out. I'll make homemade carnitas in my crock pot using a pork tenderloin. This will be included on top of cauliflower tortillas (cauliflower that is drained and mixed with eggs and then fried...a Whole30 approved way of eating a tortilla). I'll also make a pepper and onion mixture. Fresh mango salsa, avocado and fresh tomatoes complete this meal. I will serve it with a side of homemade applesauce (which I'm making today).
Friday is leftover day! Take something from the fridge that is left over. Whatever is left is fair game. This is an easy cooking night for me - I like to use only my microwave. Of course, there will be chef's salad fixins' or I could make a simple veggie and sausage omelet with sweet potato hash browns. It kind of depends on what is leftover.
So that's my week in cooking. How do you plan your meals? Do you plan them?
Today, I'm making a pot roast with onions, carrots, and sweet potatoes. It's in the oven, slowly cooking in our dutch oven on 275 degrees. My house smells divine! This will be for lunch today. Dinner, if we are still hungry after such a rich lunch, will be chef's salads made with boiled eggs (done this morning) and diced chicken with a light seasoning. I'll cook this in a little bit. I like avocados on mine. And grapes. A homemade balsamic vinegrette finishes this meal-style salad nicely. Combine it with some fresh pineapple or cantaloupe and you've got a great evening meal!
I've been running low on homemade chicken stock (I use it almost exclusively to the pre-made crap...I hate salt), so Monday, I'll bake a chicken. In our dutch oven, baking a chicken is a quick and easy way to get some great meat and to end up with plenty of bones, skin and leftover meat to make a great chicken stock. Dinner tomorrow will be baked chicken with roast cauliflower and green beans. I'll also make some steamed acorn squash that I'll mash up with a touch of clarified butter and nutmeg. The leftovers will spend the entire day on Wednesday simmering slowly in my crock pot. The resulting stock will be strained and then put into freezer bags (once it's cool) in 1 cup portions. I always have fresh chicken stock to use this way!
Tuesday and Wednesday are crazy nights in our house. We all have to be out of the house by 6 PM for events on Tuesday night and Bailey has another thing on Wednesday night at 6 PM. I am making a thick, rich beef stew on Monday to cover Tuesday night's dinner. I use carrots, onions, green beans and quartered new, white potatoes. The white potatoes are not pure Whole30, but they are such a lovely addition to the stew. We keep them to a minimum. My beef stew is made with a vegetable juice based beef broth. I use a lower sodium beef stock generally, but I need to make a homemade beef stock soon. I triple the meat in the recipe and it works for a dinner and lunch the next day. Making it a day in advance means I don't have to cook on Tuesday, but also the stew is better when it's marinated overnight. The flavors are so much better.
Wednesday is my "easy food" night. I'm making homemade turkey burgers and coupling it with homemade sweet potato fries and fruit. This will be an eat-when-you're-ready kind of night. I pile my turkey burgers high with avocado and fresh salsa and skip the bun. Fresh sliced tomatoes and a tiny bit of mustard make this an extremely filling, but satisfying meal.
Thursday, I'm branching out. I'll make homemade carnitas in my crock pot using a pork tenderloin. This will be included on top of cauliflower tortillas (cauliflower that is drained and mixed with eggs and then fried...a Whole30 approved way of eating a tortilla). I'll also make a pepper and onion mixture. Fresh mango salsa, avocado and fresh tomatoes complete this meal. I will serve it with a side of homemade applesauce (which I'm making today).
Friday is leftover day! Take something from the fridge that is left over. Whatever is left is fair game. This is an easy cooking night for me - I like to use only my microwave. Of course, there will be chef's salad fixins' or I could make a simple veggie and sausage omelet with sweet potato hash browns. It kind of depends on what is leftover.
So that's my week in cooking. How do you plan your meals? Do you plan them?
Saturday, September 14, 2013
My Personality
I saw this thing that tells you what Harry Potter character you are based on your personality type. My type (as determined by 4 different tests over the years...one of which was actually done the right way) is ESFJ. According to the online tests, my preference for "sensing (s)" over "intuition (n)" is very, very slight. It was only 1% in one of the tests I took. So, in theory, I spend much of my time in the ENFJ category. The others had very, very clear preferences. In fact, my preference for Extrovert over Introvert was 100%! LOL
Anyway, I thought the write up was interesting. I've included it below, because it really does read like a "Mikki 101" primer. I got this from www.personalitypage.com.
The Caregiver
As an ESFJ, your primary mode of living is focused externally, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit in with your personal value system. Your secondary mode is internal, where you take things in via your five senses in a literal, concrete fashion.
ESFJs are people persons - they love people. They are warmly interested in others. They use their Sensing and Judging characteristics to gather specific, detailed information about others, and turn this information into supportive judgments. They want to like people, and have a special skill at bringing out the best in others. They are extremely good at reading others, and understanding their point of view. The ESFJ's strong desire to be liked and for everything to be pleasant makes them highly supportive of others. People like to be around ESFJs, because the ESFJ has a special gift of invariably making people feel good about themselves.
The ESFJ takes their responsibilities very seriously, and is very dependable. They value security and stability, and have a strong focus on the details of life. They see before others do what needs to be done, and do whatever it takes to make sure that it gets done. They enjoy these types of tasks, and are extremely good at them.
ESFJs are warm and energetic. They need approval from others to feel good about themselves. They are hurt by indifference and don't understand unkindness. They are very giving people, who get a lot of their personal satisfaction from the happiness of others. They want to be appreciated for who they are, and what they give. They're very sensitive to others, and freely give practical care. ESFJs are such caring individuals, that they sometimes have a hard time seeing or accepting a difficult truth about someone they care about.
With Extraverted Feeling dominating their personality, ESFJs are focused on reading other people. They have a strong need to be liked, and to be in control. They are extremely good at reading others, and often change their own manner to be more pleasing to whoever they're with at the moment.
The ESFJ's value system is defined externally. They usually have very well-formed ideas about the way things should be, and are not shy about expressing these opinions. However, they weigh their values and morals against the world around them, rather than against an internal value system. They may have a strong moral code, but it is defined by the community that they live in, rather than by any strongly felt internal values.
ESFJs who have had the benefit of being raised and surrounded by a strong value system that is ethical and centered around genuine goodness will most likely be the kindest, most generous souls who will gladly give you the shirt off of their back without a second thought. For these individuals, the selfless quality of their personality type is genuine and pure. ESFJs who have not had the advantage of developing their own values by weighing them against a good external value system may develop very questionable values. In such cases, the ESFJ most often genuinely believes in the integrity of their skewed value system. They have no internal understanding of values to set them straight. In weighing their values against our society, they find plenty of support for whatever moral transgression they wish to justify. This type of ESFJ is a dangerous person indeed. Extraverted Feeling drives them to control and manipulate, and their lack of Intuition prevents them from seeing the big picture. They're usually quite popular and good with people, and good at manipulating them. Unlike their ENFJ cousin, they don't have Intuition to help them understand the real consequences of their actions. They are driven to manipulate other to achieve their own ends, yet they believe that they are following a solid moral code of conduct.
All ESFJs have a natural tendency to want to control their environment. Their dominant function demands structure and organization, and seeks closure. ESFJs are most comfortable with structured environments. They're not likely to enjoy having to do things which involve abstract, theoretical concepts, or impersonal analysis. They do enjoy creating order and structure, and are very good at tasks which require these kinds of skills. ESFJs should be careful about controling people in their lives who do not wish to be controlled.
ESFJs respect and believe in the laws and rules of authority, and believe that others should do so as well. They're traditional, and prefer to do things in the established way, rather than venturing into unchartered territory. Their need for security drives their ready acceptance and adherence to the policies of the established system. This tendency may cause them to sometimes blindly accept rules without questioning or understanding them.
An ESFJ who has developed in a less than ideal way may be prone to being quite insecure, and focus all of their attention on pleasing others. He or she might also be very controling, or overly sensitive, imagining bad intentions when there weren't any.
ESFJs incorporate many of the traits that are associated with women in our society. However, male ESFJs will usually not appear feminine at all. On the contrary, ESFJs are typically quite conscious about gender roles and will be most comfortable playing a role that suits their gender in our society. Male ESFJs will be quite masculine (albeit sensitive when you get to know them), and female ESFJs will be very feminine.
ESFJs at their best are warm, sympathetic, helpful, cooperative, tactful, down-to-earth, practical, thorough, consistent, organized, enthusiastic, and energetic. They enjoy tradition and security, and will seek stable lives that are rich in contact with friends and family.
Anyway, I thought the write up was interesting. I've included it below, because it really does read like a "Mikki 101" primer. I got this from www.personalitypage.com.
The Caregiver
As an ESFJ, your primary mode of living is focused externally, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit in with your personal value system. Your secondary mode is internal, where you take things in via your five senses in a literal, concrete fashion.
ESFJs are people persons - they love people. They are warmly interested in others. They use their Sensing and Judging characteristics to gather specific, detailed information about others, and turn this information into supportive judgments. They want to like people, and have a special skill at bringing out the best in others. They are extremely good at reading others, and understanding their point of view. The ESFJ's strong desire to be liked and for everything to be pleasant makes them highly supportive of others. People like to be around ESFJs, because the ESFJ has a special gift of invariably making people feel good about themselves.
The ESFJ takes their responsibilities very seriously, and is very dependable. They value security and stability, and have a strong focus on the details of life. They see before others do what needs to be done, and do whatever it takes to make sure that it gets done. They enjoy these types of tasks, and are extremely good at them.
ESFJs are warm and energetic. They need approval from others to feel good about themselves. They are hurt by indifference and don't understand unkindness. They are very giving people, who get a lot of their personal satisfaction from the happiness of others. They want to be appreciated for who they are, and what they give. They're very sensitive to others, and freely give practical care. ESFJs are such caring individuals, that they sometimes have a hard time seeing or accepting a difficult truth about someone they care about.
With Extraverted Feeling dominating their personality, ESFJs are focused on reading other people. They have a strong need to be liked, and to be in control. They are extremely good at reading others, and often change their own manner to be more pleasing to whoever they're with at the moment.
The ESFJ's value system is defined externally. They usually have very well-formed ideas about the way things should be, and are not shy about expressing these opinions. However, they weigh their values and morals against the world around them, rather than against an internal value system. They may have a strong moral code, but it is defined by the community that they live in, rather than by any strongly felt internal values.
ESFJs who have had the benefit of being raised and surrounded by a strong value system that is ethical and centered around genuine goodness will most likely be the kindest, most generous souls who will gladly give you the shirt off of their back without a second thought. For these individuals, the selfless quality of their personality type is genuine and pure. ESFJs who have not had the advantage of developing their own values by weighing them against a good external value system may develop very questionable values. In such cases, the ESFJ most often genuinely believes in the integrity of their skewed value system. They have no internal understanding of values to set them straight. In weighing their values against our society, they find plenty of support for whatever moral transgression they wish to justify. This type of ESFJ is a dangerous person indeed. Extraverted Feeling drives them to control and manipulate, and their lack of Intuition prevents them from seeing the big picture. They're usually quite popular and good with people, and good at manipulating them. Unlike their ENFJ cousin, they don't have Intuition to help them understand the real consequences of their actions. They are driven to manipulate other to achieve their own ends, yet they believe that they are following a solid moral code of conduct.
All ESFJs have a natural tendency to want to control their environment. Their dominant function demands structure and organization, and seeks closure. ESFJs are most comfortable with structured environments. They're not likely to enjoy having to do things which involve abstract, theoretical concepts, or impersonal analysis. They do enjoy creating order and structure, and are very good at tasks which require these kinds of skills. ESFJs should be careful about controling people in their lives who do not wish to be controlled.
ESFJs respect and believe in the laws and rules of authority, and believe that others should do so as well. They're traditional, and prefer to do things in the established way, rather than venturing into unchartered territory. Their need for security drives their ready acceptance and adherence to the policies of the established system. This tendency may cause them to sometimes blindly accept rules without questioning or understanding them.
An ESFJ who has developed in a less than ideal way may be prone to being quite insecure, and focus all of their attention on pleasing others. He or she might also be very controling, or overly sensitive, imagining bad intentions when there weren't any.
ESFJs incorporate many of the traits that are associated with women in our society. However, male ESFJs will usually not appear feminine at all. On the contrary, ESFJs are typically quite conscious about gender roles and will be most comfortable playing a role that suits their gender in our society. Male ESFJs will be quite masculine (albeit sensitive when you get to know them), and female ESFJs will be very feminine.
ESFJs at their best are warm, sympathetic, helpful, cooperative, tactful, down-to-earth, practical, thorough, consistent, organized, enthusiastic, and energetic. They enjoy tradition and security, and will seek stable lives that are rich in contact with friends and family.
When My Love is Sick
Illness is not something I deal with personally very often. I just don't get sick very much. Sometimes I get run down - I do too much and sleep too little and eat like shit and then the combo kicks my ass. But even that is rare. I'm just not sick very often. Bailey's like me. She doesn't get sick. Or, rather, she gets sick very, very rarely and springs back within 2 days.
Kelly and Connor, though. They are different. They pick up random crud everywhere and it always effects them for days.
This past Thursday, Kelly had the completely horrid experience of passing a kidney stone. While this isn't something she "just picked up", it has led to multiple days of recovery.
It breaks my heart. I hate it when she is not feeling well. I hate it when I know she is hurting. I hate it when I know that she feels guilty for needing to take it easy and I hate it that our lives cannot slow down much and allow her to rest without guilt. I hate that, despite my attempts, the quality of life we have goes down when our efforts are reduced to just me and not us as a team.
It's a Momma-bear effect, but for my wife. I get protective of her in a way that I'm not in our normal existence. I want to protect her from pain - all versions of it. I guess that's what makes me a good wife. Or at least, one of the reasons.
Today, I'm grocery shopping. Bailey has a concert. I'm cleaning the house. And I'm constantly focused on Kelly and what she needs. I want to give her what she needs to feel better. I want her better...not only because I don't want for her to feel pain, guilt or frustration. I want her better because I miss my best teammate.
I love you, Kelly. When you read this, know that I'm loving you while you're sleeping. I'm loving you while you're sick. I'm loving you, even when you feel like you're not "pulling your weight" or when you're worried that I'm too stressed out. I'm right here. I'll take care of you until you feel better, until you're healed...forever.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
25 Reasons to Smile
Given the grouchy mood that I can't seem to shake, it only seemed appropriate that I spend some time writing about reasons to smile. Because I love lists, here's 25 neatly numbered reasons:
1) Camp Fire is finally taking shape and the curriculum planning has been a blast! I have loved the process of figuring out how to start this club and I'm looking forward to running it even more.
2) My current status as a stay at home Momma allows me to spend lots and lots of time at the school, volunteering. This is one of the things I have been most looking forward to and I'm grateful that I get to give my time and energy to the people who are teaching our children.
3) My hair is finally what I want it to be. It's been years since I've been happy with it.
4) Every morning, when Connor wakes up, he crawls into my arms and holds me for 10 minutes before he can function. I love those 10 minutes and look forward to them every day.
5) The 2 minutes I spend every morning driving away from the school, without any children in my car, are some of the happiest moments of my day.
6) The smile on Connor's face when he gets off the bus and the way he immediately launches into tales of his day are also some of the happiest.
7) My friends and the smiles they always have for me never fail to make my day brighter. We really do have the best circle of people ever.
8) Despite a 3-day heat wave, Autumn is marching closer every day. When I drive to the farm stand each Saturday to get our weekly produce, the pumpkin fields get more and more orange. Makes this cold-weather lover happy.
9) We have a home, enough money to feed and take care of our family and little extras that make it all worth it. I never want to be someone who forgets to be grateful for those gifts.
10) Kelly. Marriage is not always a cake walk, but in the end, my best friend is by my side each night and the first smile I see each morning.
11) Listening to the kids' conversations during the morning and afternoon drives to and from school. I pretend to read, but really, I'm listening to them and learning so much about what they do and how they view the world. It's fascinating, funny and unnerving all at the same time.
12) The progression of pot-smoking rights in this country. We get closer every day to a world where alcohol isn't the only legal option to take the edge off.
13) Apples. Apples are my favorite fruit to eat and cook with and this is their season! Yay for applesauce, apples with caramel and apple crisp!
14) Miley Cyrus. I know, I know...this one is weird. But honestly, watching people be so crazy makes me happy. I like crazy. I like chaos and I keep my life pretty ordered. Watching someone else's chaos makes me happy.
15) Bailey and all her fucking spunk! Lordy, that child will never, ever let me rest...but god, I love her! She is so driven, funny, crazy, sweet and loving. She makes me so proud every day.
16) Our bed. I know this is a weird one, but honestly, our bed is the best ever. Every single time I get into it, I'm happy we purchased it and I can't imagine ever being comfortable without it. :-)
17) Christmas is coming. There are only 104 days until that magical day and many fewer until I can actually kick off the holiday season!
18) Macho Sluts. It's a great book and one I can't stop reading, even though I've read it a million times since last year.
19) MichFest and knowing that every day bring me closer to next year.
20) Nights around the fire pit, friends over for BBQ's and lots of beer. This is my favorite part of Autumn.
21) Football. I finally get a year where I can care again. Since the kids have been born, I have taken on the job of keeping the kids occupied so that Kelly could watch football. Now they are old enough to handle it themselves (basically) and they even like to watch with us! Football is finally what I was hoping it would be...
22) A few of our friends have some pretty awesome things going on in their lives. I am so happy for them and I love sharing their joy.
23) Guacamole. This is probably not a great reason to be happy...but guacamole on everything makes it better. Yum!
24) Therapy. I have health insurance now, and with it, therapy benefits. I can't wait to get started...
25) And last but not least...miraculously, the 3 1/2 years I went without seeing a doctor didn't seem to phase my body. I am in good health with no issues, I'm strong and have been exercising more, eating better and sleeping more. These are good, good things.
What about you? What makes you smile today?
1) Camp Fire is finally taking shape and the curriculum planning has been a blast! I have loved the process of figuring out how to start this club and I'm looking forward to running it even more.
2) My current status as a stay at home Momma allows me to spend lots and lots of time at the school, volunteering. This is one of the things I have been most looking forward to and I'm grateful that I get to give my time and energy to the people who are teaching our children.
3) My hair is finally what I want it to be. It's been years since I've been happy with it.
4) Every morning, when Connor wakes up, he crawls into my arms and holds me for 10 minutes before he can function. I love those 10 minutes and look forward to them every day.
5) The 2 minutes I spend every morning driving away from the school, without any children in my car, are some of the happiest moments of my day.
6) The smile on Connor's face when he gets off the bus and the way he immediately launches into tales of his day are also some of the happiest.
7) My friends and the smiles they always have for me never fail to make my day brighter. We really do have the best circle of people ever.
8) Despite a 3-day heat wave, Autumn is marching closer every day. When I drive to the farm stand each Saturday to get our weekly produce, the pumpkin fields get more and more orange. Makes this cold-weather lover happy.
9) We have a home, enough money to feed and take care of our family and little extras that make it all worth it. I never want to be someone who forgets to be grateful for those gifts.
10) Kelly. Marriage is not always a cake walk, but in the end, my best friend is by my side each night and the first smile I see each morning.
11) Listening to the kids' conversations during the morning and afternoon drives to and from school. I pretend to read, but really, I'm listening to them and learning so much about what they do and how they view the world. It's fascinating, funny and unnerving all at the same time.
12) The progression of pot-smoking rights in this country. We get closer every day to a world where alcohol isn't the only legal option to take the edge off.
13) Apples. Apples are my favorite fruit to eat and cook with and this is their season! Yay for applesauce, apples with caramel and apple crisp!
14) Miley Cyrus. I know, I know...this one is weird. But honestly, watching people be so crazy makes me happy. I like crazy. I like chaos and I keep my life pretty ordered. Watching someone else's chaos makes me happy.
15) Bailey and all her fucking spunk! Lordy, that child will never, ever let me rest...but god, I love her! She is so driven, funny, crazy, sweet and loving. She makes me so proud every day.
16) Our bed. I know this is a weird one, but honestly, our bed is the best ever. Every single time I get into it, I'm happy we purchased it and I can't imagine ever being comfortable without it. :-)
17) Christmas is coming. There are only 104 days until that magical day and many fewer until I can actually kick off the holiday season!
18) Macho Sluts. It's a great book and one I can't stop reading, even though I've read it a million times since last year.
19) MichFest and knowing that every day bring me closer to next year.
20) Nights around the fire pit, friends over for BBQ's and lots of beer. This is my favorite part of Autumn.
21) Football. I finally get a year where I can care again. Since the kids have been born, I have taken on the job of keeping the kids occupied so that Kelly could watch football. Now they are old enough to handle it themselves (basically) and they even like to watch with us! Football is finally what I was hoping it would be...
22) A few of our friends have some pretty awesome things going on in their lives. I am so happy for them and I love sharing their joy.
23) Guacamole. This is probably not a great reason to be happy...but guacamole on everything makes it better. Yum!
24) Therapy. I have health insurance now, and with it, therapy benefits. I can't wait to get started...
25) And last but not least...miraculously, the 3 1/2 years I went without seeing a doctor didn't seem to phase my body. I am in good health with no issues, I'm strong and have been exercising more, eating better and sleeping more. These are good, good things.
What about you? What makes you smile today?
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Another Goal
Every tried West Coast Swing??
If you haven't, it's like swing dancing meets ballroom dancing meets hip hop. It's sexy, it's suggestive, it's physical and it's fun as HELL! At least, the people who actually know how to do it make it look that way. I'm just starting and can barely keep my tongue in my mouth while I try not to embarrass myself too much tripping over people's feet. Ugh. That part is horrible.
But I've been practicing at home and I assume that next time I go will be better.
My goal? To get really good that this shit and then lead a workshop at MichFest. Because, really? A bunch of women doing this shit with no men in sight? Mmmmmm....
If you haven't, it's like swing dancing meets ballroom dancing meets hip hop. It's sexy, it's suggestive, it's physical and it's fun as HELL! At least, the people who actually know how to do it make it look that way. I'm just starting and can barely keep my tongue in my mouth while I try not to embarrass myself too much tripping over people's feet. Ugh. That part is horrible.
But I've been practicing at home and I assume that next time I go will be better.
My goal? To get really good that this shit and then lead a workshop at MichFest. Because, really? A bunch of women doing this shit with no men in sight? Mmmmmm....
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Letting Go
Yesterday was one of the most difficult experiences of my life.
It was Connor's first day of preschool. For anyone who knows the history, Connor has never really liked being away from home or away from me (and Kelly...but I'm his primary because I'm home). He's a homebody in the most extreme sense of that word. He's also pretty introverted and prefers the company of people he knows. He DOES NOT like new situations.
Last year, we pulled him out of a 2-hour a day program because he despised it. He was 3 and just not ready. I still feel like we made the best decision for him. This summer, he got pulled out of swimming lessons because it was such a traumatizing experience. Again, I feel like we made the right decision for him at the time, in the circumstances. He's not ever really done any extracurricular activities, because he doesn't want to. He has no real interests that we can figure out yet. Granted, he's only 4...
So, despite making a series of decisions that were best for Connor in the moment, I think we created the problem that happened yesterday. Connor completely lost his shit when it was time to go to school. The plan was for his sister to walk him to his classroom where he would be met by Ms. Summers and Ms. Handley - two people he has known and who have known him for nearly two years. He love them and they love him. He's been to their classroom and we've been talking about school for months. There were no surprises, nothing scary about what he was doing. Hell, there was nothing unknown.
But still, he lost his shit. It went down just before we left. He got ready without issue, knew he was going to school and knew that it was going to happen today. But as we left the house, he started crying. And I don't mean just a little whimper. It was a complete, fear-based cry complete with begging us to let him stay home and spoken wishes about school going away forever. He clung to us, he screamed when we put him in the car. The entire way to school, he sobbed and begged and carried on. It was so bad that I texted his teacher and asked her to come get him. I then changed my mind when that seemed to scare him even more. When we got there, we pulled out of the car line because there was no way that he was going to get out of the car easily. He was refusing to move. We parked and got the girls out of the car and then talked with him. We got him out of the car and the terror in his voice was heartbreaking. He hadn't eaten breakfast, he was complaining of a tummy ache and he was fighting the girls' hands as they tried to lead him away. When we realized that nothing was going to stop this from happening, he tried to grab me and Kelly's hands so that we could walk him in. When we didn't let him, he lost his shit even more.
We finally convinced him to start moving and Kelly and I stood back and watched him go. The walk into school is a long one and he stopped multiple times. At one point, Kelly wanted to go to him, but we didn't. We waited and he started moving with the girls again. Finally one of the teachers saw what was happening and took his hand. She led him, no nonsense, to the preschool classroom door. Kelly and I, both of us crying, climbed into our van and drove away.
It was the single most exhausting, emotional experience of my life. I have never felt so incredibly helpless to give in to my feelings of protecting him.
And yet, I was completely aware that the very best thing I could do was remain calm and force him forward. I didn't cry in front of him. We didn't allow him to fall completely apart, reminding him calmly and constantly, that he was ready for this and that he would be okay. That he was safe and everything was going to be fine. We stood firm and forced him away from us. It was the only right thing to do. There is a huge part of me that could see through the emotion of the moment and recognize that this was at least 75% our fault. By allowing him to opt out of every activity and program we have tried to put him over the last 2 years, we allowed him to believe that an extreme reaction (even one that is based in real fear) would get him out of it. I could see, and still can see, that our emotional response to him feeling unsafe furthered and created more fear. Far from ever protecting him from anything, we have allowed him to sit in his fears and not learn that he is okay without us and that he is perfectly capable of navigating new situations without hiding behind us.
I'm not sure why it has been so different with Connor. I have thought a lot about this and I still don't have an answer. With Bailey, it's always been a matter of holding her back. Not letting her get too far ahead of her maturity or to overwhelm herself. She has bounded into new situations without looking back even once. She is fearless, or she is completely comfortable working through her fear, without us. It's never been difficult to let her go.
Connor is so different for Kelly and I. We both struggle to let him stretch his wings and he is perfectly happy to allow us to coddle him. But it's not what's good for him. Watching him sob and stop walking and be so completely afraid of a completely safe situation was like a big huge light being shined into my eyes. It was glaringly obvious that he expected us to save him from a new (and scary to him) situation. We had failed him and he was the one who had to suffer because we had not prepared him. I cried as much for that as I did because it was just hard to watch him walk away.
Of course, he had a great day. His teachers reported that he did just fine - excellent, in fact. He loved school. He came home raving about how much he loved it and ready to go back. Last night, when Kelly was telling him that she wouldn't be there and that he was going to just jump out of the car in the car line, he said "Don't worry, I'm not scared anymore". The best part of his day yesterday was riding the bus home.
And once again, parenting levels me and reminds me that even the most well-intentioned actions can have unintended consequences. I can't say that Kelly and I will be completely changed parents from this situation, but I can say that we have learned a very hard lesson. Watching him go, seeing him come home happy and whole and perfectly fine without us, taught us one of those hard lessons that we never wanted to learn and desperately needed to. Every parent has moments where they realize that they are, in fact, the person standing in their child's way. Yesterday was our moment.
And it was fucking hard.
It was Connor's first day of preschool. For anyone who knows the history, Connor has never really liked being away from home or away from me (and Kelly...but I'm his primary because I'm home). He's a homebody in the most extreme sense of that word. He's also pretty introverted and prefers the company of people he knows. He DOES NOT like new situations.
Last year, we pulled him out of a 2-hour a day program because he despised it. He was 3 and just not ready. I still feel like we made the best decision for him. This summer, he got pulled out of swimming lessons because it was such a traumatizing experience. Again, I feel like we made the right decision for him at the time, in the circumstances. He's not ever really done any extracurricular activities, because he doesn't want to. He has no real interests that we can figure out yet. Granted, he's only 4...
So, despite making a series of decisions that were best for Connor in the moment, I think we created the problem that happened yesterday. Connor completely lost his shit when it was time to go to school. The plan was for his sister to walk him to his classroom where he would be met by Ms. Summers and Ms. Handley - two people he has known and who have known him for nearly two years. He love them and they love him. He's been to their classroom and we've been talking about school for months. There were no surprises, nothing scary about what he was doing. Hell, there was nothing unknown.
But still, he lost his shit. It went down just before we left. He got ready without issue, knew he was going to school and knew that it was going to happen today. But as we left the house, he started crying. And I don't mean just a little whimper. It was a complete, fear-based cry complete with begging us to let him stay home and spoken wishes about school going away forever. He clung to us, he screamed when we put him in the car. The entire way to school, he sobbed and begged and carried on. It was so bad that I texted his teacher and asked her to come get him. I then changed my mind when that seemed to scare him even more. When we got there, we pulled out of the car line because there was no way that he was going to get out of the car easily. He was refusing to move. We parked and got the girls out of the car and then talked with him. We got him out of the car and the terror in his voice was heartbreaking. He hadn't eaten breakfast, he was complaining of a tummy ache and he was fighting the girls' hands as they tried to lead him away. When we realized that nothing was going to stop this from happening, he tried to grab me and Kelly's hands so that we could walk him in. When we didn't let him, he lost his shit even more.
We finally convinced him to start moving and Kelly and I stood back and watched him go. The walk into school is a long one and he stopped multiple times. At one point, Kelly wanted to go to him, but we didn't. We waited and he started moving with the girls again. Finally one of the teachers saw what was happening and took his hand. She led him, no nonsense, to the preschool classroom door. Kelly and I, both of us crying, climbed into our van and drove away.
It was the single most exhausting, emotional experience of my life. I have never felt so incredibly helpless to give in to my feelings of protecting him.
And yet, I was completely aware that the very best thing I could do was remain calm and force him forward. I didn't cry in front of him. We didn't allow him to fall completely apart, reminding him calmly and constantly, that he was ready for this and that he would be okay. That he was safe and everything was going to be fine. We stood firm and forced him away from us. It was the only right thing to do. There is a huge part of me that could see through the emotion of the moment and recognize that this was at least 75% our fault. By allowing him to opt out of every activity and program we have tried to put him over the last 2 years, we allowed him to believe that an extreme reaction (even one that is based in real fear) would get him out of it. I could see, and still can see, that our emotional response to him feeling unsafe furthered and created more fear. Far from ever protecting him from anything, we have allowed him to sit in his fears and not learn that he is okay without us and that he is perfectly capable of navigating new situations without hiding behind us.
I'm not sure why it has been so different with Connor. I have thought a lot about this and I still don't have an answer. With Bailey, it's always been a matter of holding her back. Not letting her get too far ahead of her maturity or to overwhelm herself. She has bounded into new situations without looking back even once. She is fearless, or she is completely comfortable working through her fear, without us. It's never been difficult to let her go.
Connor is so different for Kelly and I. We both struggle to let him stretch his wings and he is perfectly happy to allow us to coddle him. But it's not what's good for him. Watching him sob and stop walking and be so completely afraid of a completely safe situation was like a big huge light being shined into my eyes. It was glaringly obvious that he expected us to save him from a new (and scary to him) situation. We had failed him and he was the one who had to suffer because we had not prepared him. I cried as much for that as I did because it was just hard to watch him walk away.
Of course, he had a great day. His teachers reported that he did just fine - excellent, in fact. He loved school. He came home raving about how much he loved it and ready to go back. Last night, when Kelly was telling him that she wouldn't be there and that he was going to just jump out of the car in the car line, he said "Don't worry, I'm not scared anymore". The best part of his day yesterday was riding the bus home.
And once again, parenting levels me and reminds me that even the most well-intentioned actions can have unintended consequences. I can't say that Kelly and I will be completely changed parents from this situation, but I can say that we have learned a very hard lesson. Watching him go, seeing him come home happy and whole and perfectly fine without us, taught us one of those hard lessons that we never wanted to learn and desperately needed to. Every parent has moments where they realize that they are, in fact, the person standing in their child's way. Yesterday was our moment.
And it was fucking hard.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Bringing Sexy Back
I've been in a slump for 2 years. The first few years of being a stay at home Momma were about transition and fucking WORK! Connor was just shy of a year old and Bailey was nearly 3 when I left my job. If you've ever spent time with kids that age, 24/7 without a break, you know that you work your ass off. It was constant, demanding and so different from the lifestyle of being an office worker. SAHM's don't have things like projects with real deadlines and goals. There is almost never a point where you have a final outcome. It's just a matter of managing a constant stream of needs - theirs and yours.
It took me a while, but I eventually learned this job and it was at that point that I started to become stagnant. I had reached the point where I could add something - where I needed to add something - but my children were still young and, even though Bailey had started PreK, I didn't have any time. I still had Connor full time and Bailey was still here, except for 3 hours a day.
I've needed something for a long time. Needed a bit of space to focus on me. A bit of room in my life where I get to decide who I want to be, unfettered by the requirements of raising children 24/7. At the beginning of this summer, I started the process of finding me again. I had reached a point of no return - you know, where you can't keep moving along the same path because it no longer works, but you also have no idea where else to go. I had decisions to make - either let myself sink into depression (a very real possibility) or move boldly into a new place in my mind and let that boldness guide me.
I think the best way to describe what's happened over the last couple of years is that I've completely lost my swagger. I used to own my space - I found myself sexy and funny and worth spending time with. I knew my worth. The last couple of years, I've lost that. I have become opaque and I'm on my way to invisible, which is absolutely unacceptable to me. I don't care who notices me - this isn't about other people. What I do care about is that I feel that way. I can't stand feeling like I'm not worthy of swagger. I want to walk into a room and know that I am projecting how good I feel and I want my confidence back.
So here I am. My first big decision made entirely for me was my decision to go to MichFest next year (and ever year after). Over the summer, I've taken some steps in other directions - mostly in my ways of thinking. I've spent time processing how I make my decisions and making sure that I'm taking myself into consideration. I've relaxed some of my standards for myself and my home and given myself permission to relax a bit. I've stopped pretending that I'm not going to party every now and then, and I've stopped apologizing for needing it.
And last night, I dyed a part of my hair pink. It was actually supposed to be purple...but it turned out pink because my hair is so dark. Which is fine for me. On Thursday, I'm getting a short, asymmetrical, a-line bob to go with my new color. I want an edgy look - not a suburban mom look. The next step will be getting rid of my glasses and my daily walking begins tomorrow.
Just taking these steps has brought back some of who I used to be. Some of the things that made me feel like me. I like feeling like I'm just outside of the norm, while knowing that my life is as normal as it comes. I like for my external appearance to match the sassy, ballsy, drama-filled girl on the inside. I love me and I'm finally taking some steps to find that part of me again. I feel like jumping up and down and cheering for me. I didn't get lost, I just lost touch with myself for a while. But I'm back. Full-on, all-in Mikki is back...and I can't wait to keep on this path and see where it takes me.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Secrets Shared #1
At the top of my list of secret wishes is the now no longer a secret wish to have a day just like the characters on Glee. A day where every event is punctuated by a song that tells the story. A day with synchronized dancing and the perfect moments captured with a long, high note. I want a Glee day.
Opportunity
I have held 3 professional jobs in my life. Two of them at law firms (the last of which is where I truly grew up and I have nothing but love for), but my all time favorite job was with a smallish non-profit doing programming work with high school clubs. In all honesty, I did the Administrative stuff for these groups, supporting the programs by running a smooth ship and keeping the details dealt with. I loved it. I got the job because I had left my first law firm and started my graduate program at GWU. One of my professors was working there and needed an intern. I volunteered, because what the hell else was I going to do? 3 months later, they asked me stay and hired me on full time. It was the single most organic method of job creation and it worked so well because it was built entirely based on matching my skills with a need that they had.
Now, I find myself again at the point of wondering what I'm going to do. I'm still on the board of my MOMS Club and will be until next July. I'm starting a local chapter of Camp Fire with a dear friend, but that's for the kids. I'm volunteering at the school, but that's not really for me. It's just something I feel like we have to do as parents. So I found myself questioning what I'm going to do for me. What am I going to do to make my brain tick.
In the vein - do you know that the single most difficult part of being a SAHM is the complete brain boredom? Taking care of kids is a whole crapload of constant motion, but not much thinking is involved. They don't require much thought. In fact, I have over-thought much of this job just because I'm brain-bored.
So that's why I decided to get involved with an organization that is just beginning in our area. This group of people got together about a year ago and decided to work with a local church to provide a hot meal once a week to the homeless people in community. They have had huge success, and have found surprising need. They are now working toward moving away from the church and have incorporated as Our Place - a separate soup kitchen. They are a few weeks away from submitting for their 501(c)(3) status, they are looking for space and plan to spend the next year renovating. They envision a space that serves 1-2 meals per day, every day. Eventually growing into a full-service organization that works to help in all areas that people who are facing homelessness or hardship. It's a great organization and it perfectly matches my areas of interest. I am appalled by the class-warfare and find it incredibly sad that such a rich county exists side by side with such extreme need. I want to help.
I've joined the Grant Writing committee. I picked this committee because it, first, gives me practical experience in an area that I don't have. It's good for my resume. It's networking and skill building. But, mostly, I joined this particular committee because it's going to stretch my brain. I've never done grant writing. I'm excited to do a job that has a deadline and an outcome. I'm excited by the prospect that my work could produce some of the revenue stream that allows this amazing organization to get off the ground.
I'm mostly excited to have something to do. Something that isn't dishes or picking up or food prep or child rearing.
Now, I find myself again at the point of wondering what I'm going to do. I'm still on the board of my MOMS Club and will be until next July. I'm starting a local chapter of Camp Fire with a dear friend, but that's for the kids. I'm volunteering at the school, but that's not really for me. It's just something I feel like we have to do as parents. So I found myself questioning what I'm going to do for me. What am I going to do to make my brain tick.
In the vein - do you know that the single most difficult part of being a SAHM is the complete brain boredom? Taking care of kids is a whole crapload of constant motion, but not much thinking is involved. They don't require much thought. In fact, I have over-thought much of this job just because I'm brain-bored.
So that's why I decided to get involved with an organization that is just beginning in our area. This group of people got together about a year ago and decided to work with a local church to provide a hot meal once a week to the homeless people in community. They have had huge success, and have found surprising need. They are now working toward moving away from the church and have incorporated as Our Place - a separate soup kitchen. They are a few weeks away from submitting for their 501(c)(3) status, they are looking for space and plan to spend the next year renovating. They envision a space that serves 1-2 meals per day, every day. Eventually growing into a full-service organization that works to help in all areas that people who are facing homelessness or hardship. It's a great organization and it perfectly matches my areas of interest. I am appalled by the class-warfare and find it incredibly sad that such a rich county exists side by side with such extreme need. I want to help.
I've joined the Grant Writing committee. I picked this committee because it, first, gives me practical experience in an area that I don't have. It's good for my resume. It's networking and skill building. But, mostly, I joined this particular committee because it's going to stretch my brain. I've never done grant writing. I'm excited to do a job that has a deadline and an outcome. I'm excited by the prospect that my work could produce some of the revenue stream that allows this amazing organization to get off the ground.
I'm mostly excited to have something to do. Something that isn't dishes or picking up or food prep or child rearing.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
My Love Note to Connor
Dear Connor -
I wonder if you will ever know what it was like to watch you come out of your Mommy's uterus all blue and droopy. Your first warbly, weak cry made my heart stop. Watching them whisk you away to the corner of the room, having to turn to your Mommy unsure of what to say. Listening for every word the doctor said, anticipating trouble and wanting with all my heart to lunge for you, as if my love alone could prevent any problems. Of course, you were okay. They cleared your lungs, warmed you up and monitored you. I got to touch you for the first time when you were all hooked up to all kinds of machines, but I could touch you. You pursed your lips, you squinted your eyes and yelled loudly when the nurse cleaned you.
I knew then the answer to the last remaining question I had. When I felt my heart plummet when I didn't hear the rebel yell at birth, I knew that my love for you would be no less than the love I have for the child I carried in my body. I carried that question with me through your Mommy's entire pregnancy, secretly wondering if love like I had for the child who grew inside of me could be replicated with a child I didn't grow. I worried that, having the comparison, I would feel the difference.
The answer is that I didn't then and I haven't any day since. From the moment I saw you in the OR, I knew you were my son. Your beautiful face burned itself into my heart and you become a part of me. My love for you is limitless in all ways and, if there is a difference, I can't tell what it is.
My sweet, sweet boy...you are the love of my life in so many ways. You are gentle and generous and sensitive. You play hard, but love even harder. You give so much of yourself to those around you, caring what people think and how they respond to you. You are precise in your choice and use of language and you are so damn funny! I love how you make me laugh.
Next week, you start Preschool. You begin the journey of truly moving away from us and into your own life. You will have a part of you that exists without us and you won't share it all. I wish I could go with you. I wish that I could sneak into your backpack and be there to kiss you when it gets hard for you. I feel so protective of you, so scared that something will happen and you'll look for me, but not find me. These things are the irrational fears of parenting and not a reflection on your true abilities, because you are so ready. You have all the tools to go forward and begin blazing your own trail.
Someday, you might read this. If you do, I want you to know that there could never be any other boy for me. You are, since the moment you came into this world, my Prince Charming. I am so happy that I get to be your Momma and that I get to stand by your side or at your back as you take this world and make it your own. I hope that you know that my love for you is as steady as can be, a sure place you can always land. My boy, you are the child of my heart and I couldn't love you more.
Love Always,
Your Momma
Next week, you start Preschool. You begin the journey of truly moving away from us and into your own life. You will have a part of you that exists without us and you won't share it all. I wish I could go with you. I wish that I could sneak into your backpack and be there to kiss you when it gets hard for you. I feel so protective of you, so scared that something will happen and you'll look for me, but not find me. These things are the irrational fears of parenting and not a reflection on your true abilities, because you are so ready. You have all the tools to go forward and begin blazing your own trail.
Someday, you might read this. If you do, I want you to know that there could never be any other boy for me. You are, since the moment you came into this world, my Prince Charming. I am so happy that I get to be your Momma and that I get to stand by your side or at your back as you take this world and make it your own. I hope that you know that my love for you is as steady as can be, a sure place you can always land. My boy, you are the child of my heart and I couldn't love you more.
Love Always,
Your Momma
Sunday, August 25, 2013
MichFest
I should probably start this journey at the place that is occupying all the free space in my head right now. The Michigan Womyn's Music Festival has become my mecca. I am going next August for the first time and I can't stop thinking about it. I'll move on eventually until it get closer...but for now, I'm all sucked in. I want to go so badly and the anticipation of another year to wait is all-consuming.
I'm not sure what it is about this event. I've known about it my entire life. My mom is my first and best example of a living feminist today. I was raised in a home full of women in all different stages of their lives. I saw her work her ass off and make shit that everyone thought was impossible happen. I learned, from such a young age, the power and strength of women and I loved it. I have always loved being a woman. I never carried the institutionalized shame that so many people carry. That is not to say that I haven't lived with it through periods, but even when I was mired in the drudgery of female reality, I knew that I always had the strength to get out of that if I chose. I have always known my strength and it's because I was raised listening to my mother sing Ferron and Chris Williamsom and Joni Mitchell and Janis Joplin. I grew up with women at my back, women leading me forward and women who never failed to catch me and prop me back up.
They went. My mom and her friends went. And they talked about it. I heard about MichFest.
I went to college and immersed myself in women. I found my first home outside of the my mother in the women's studies department at UMF and I met women who still awe me and help to define my view of the world. I learned, again, what it meant to be strong and to take control of my voice and to decide how to use it. And there was always MichFest. I always wanted to go and could never afford it.
So now. Here I am. I'm not a kid anymore, I'm not a college student struggling through and finding my way. I'm a woman, I'm a mother and I'm so ready to claim that power and let it change me.
Maybe that's the magic of it all. Maybe I just want it because I'm ready to be changed and I'm ready to open myself up to the magic of a shared experience with women who want the same things as me. Maybe I'm just excited to be in a space where I am obligated to be only what I feel in the moment, where my sole responsibility is to myself and my journey.
I'm not sure what it is about this event. I've known about it my entire life. My mom is my first and best example of a living feminist today. I was raised in a home full of women in all different stages of their lives. I saw her work her ass off and make shit that everyone thought was impossible happen. I learned, from such a young age, the power and strength of women and I loved it. I have always loved being a woman. I never carried the institutionalized shame that so many people carry. That is not to say that I haven't lived with it through periods, but even when I was mired in the drudgery of female reality, I knew that I always had the strength to get out of that if I chose. I have always known my strength and it's because I was raised listening to my mother sing Ferron and Chris Williamsom and Joni Mitchell and Janis Joplin. I grew up with women at my back, women leading me forward and women who never failed to catch me and prop me back up.
They went. My mom and her friends went. And they talked about it. I heard about MichFest.
I went to college and immersed myself in women. I found my first home outside of the my mother in the women's studies department at UMF and I met women who still awe me and help to define my view of the world. I learned, again, what it meant to be strong and to take control of my voice and to decide how to use it. And there was always MichFest. I always wanted to go and could never afford it.
So now. Here I am. I'm not a kid anymore, I'm not a college student struggling through and finding my way. I'm a woman, I'm a mother and I'm so ready to claim that power and let it change me.
Maybe that's the magic of it all. Maybe I just want it because I'm ready to be changed and I'm ready to open myself up to the magic of a shared experience with women who want the same things as me. Maybe I'm just excited to be in a space where I am obligated to be only what I feel in the moment, where my sole responsibility is to myself and my journey.
About Me (continued)...
I ended my last post about me with my children. It seemed appropriate to stop there because so much of who I am is about them. My time is spent caring for them, or preparing to care for them, or cleaning up after caring for them. My heart and mind is consumed with them, their plans, their daily strife and pleasures and with helping to pave the path of their lives. It's the largest defining part of me.
But, of course, it's not all of me. And while the rest of who I am is smaller and often takes a back seat to raising young children, it's also the loudest part of who I am.
So second in my definition of me would be my wife, K. She and I have been loving each other for nearly 16 years. Our meeting anniversary, which was have always celebrated as the moment our love took shape, happened in October of 1997. I was 18, she as 22 and we were way to young to have any idea what to do with the intense love we found in each other. It was so sudden and completely inconvenient. We lived in different states, we had well-defined plans for the next few years of our lives and she had a girlfriend. None of these things stopped us, despite our trying to prevent all that happened. We were on and off, hot and cold, in and out. Except, when the day was done and the night hit that dark, quiet place, it as each other we craved and nothing, ever, had changed that. We built our friendship in the early years, because we were long distance for 5 years. We lived in the same geographic location for a year once we both graduated and then finally moved in together 10 years ago. We began the process then of matching our lives to our hearts and we braided all that we are together. There is no yours and mine with us...it is ours and we are an us. I am not always happy about this, and neither is she. We are honest in our trials and we mean it when we say there are days, weeks...even months...where we nothing more than to cut the ties and run far and fast.
But we don't. And that is the heart of the definition. I married her. I stood in a foggy grove last year and promised her all of my tomorrow, and despite whatever challenges may come, I meant it. I'm not sure what could break us after so long, because each time I think we are broken, we renew. I don't know what is about her, or about our love, but I'm in.
And this is where it gets hard. I can easily define myself in terms of them. They are at the very, very heart of me and without them, I am not me. And yet...there is always, and has always been, a persistent voice that reminds me (sometimes forcefully) that I am more than the lubricant and stability in the lives of three other people. There are parts of me that exist, and would continue to thrive, without them. The voice under it all that is uniquely mine that nobody else touches or defines. It is this voice that I think truly defines ME, but it is hardest one for me to honor. I don't think that is an unusual phenomenon. What I do think is unusual is that I acknowledge it, and don't apologize for it, and attempt to make space for those parts in an already full-to-the-brim life.
How do I describe those parts of me? How do I tell you about my humor, which is sarcastic and often dances on the razor edge of acceptability? Do I tell you about my stubbornness or my drama? Do I share that I have huge insecurities about my body, but I am completely in love with it and how it has taken me through 34 years? Do I talk about my love of sex, all things sex, all things deviant and dirty? Do I explain my love of risk-taking and the darker side of my personality that demands attention some times? Do we talk about my politics or the fiery passion that erupts every time elections roll around? Do I share with you my complete lack of filter and how much I love that about me?
I don't know where to start. I am intense. I never feel something weakly. I'm either all in or I'm not interested. I like to know the dirty details, the nitty gritty. I love other people's stories and I love hearing other people's perspective on my life. I take what others say to me and roll it around, see how it feels. I listen and offer opinions. I truly love and care for the people in my life. Once you are inside the inner circle, there is nothing I won't do for you. I am selfless to a fault and I try to offer my best to the world, even when it is not returned. I give gifts, I cherish my friendship and I enjoy the little crushes that develop when I meet truly interesting people.
I don't believe in monogamy, but I live by the rules of monogamy because my marriage would fail if I did otherwise. I am not religious in any way...at least not in the Christian sense of the word. I don't believe in God and I am not afraid of death. I think the most interesting people I meet are those who look the part but live differently...with no other definition than that. I am not interested in the image projected, but rather the person under all of the fake bullshit. I seek out real and crave honesty.
What you'll get from me is probably too much. I am a bull in a china shop, and I am unapologetic about that. I also struggle from time to time, worrying that I am too much and I secretly fear that most people would rather have me out of their lives rather than in. Sometimes I hide behind my own bullshit because it's easier than standing in my truth. Sometimes I hate me.
There is always a split in my life - there are the things I do and the things I feel and think. Often, these things don't match up or the crossover happens in weird and seemingly disconnected ways. I think that a stranger would look at me and see a nice, heterosexual, youngish mother with lots to do. I hope they would see my smile and feel welcomed into my life. I hope they would notice my warmth and my openness to new experience. Mostly, I hope that when those strangers become friends and then close friends that they would see the gritty, hardcore, drama-loving, woman-adoring lesbian under the facade.
I often feel like the best parts of me are lost in the requirements of my life. I always feel anger when I feel that way. If there is area I struggle with, it is this. It is in the honoring of who I am outside of the family we created and support. I struggle with accepting that I will fail them sometimes and with knowing that it's okay to choose my needs first on occasion. I don't do that well.
My last definition of me is you. I am changed by the people I choose to keep in my life. I listen to the people around me because I trust that you have something to offer my life. I truly believe that we have something important to bring to each other's lives or we wouldn't have met. So share your truth with me. I'll share mine.
But, of course, it's not all of me. And while the rest of who I am is smaller and often takes a back seat to raising young children, it's also the loudest part of who I am.
So second in my definition of me would be my wife, K. She and I have been loving each other for nearly 16 years. Our meeting anniversary, which was have always celebrated as the moment our love took shape, happened in October of 1997. I was 18, she as 22 and we were way to young to have any idea what to do with the intense love we found in each other. It was so sudden and completely inconvenient. We lived in different states, we had well-defined plans for the next few years of our lives and she had a girlfriend. None of these things stopped us, despite our trying to prevent all that happened. We were on and off, hot and cold, in and out. Except, when the day was done and the night hit that dark, quiet place, it as each other we craved and nothing, ever, had changed that. We built our friendship in the early years, because we were long distance for 5 years. We lived in the same geographic location for a year once we both graduated and then finally moved in together 10 years ago. We began the process then of matching our lives to our hearts and we braided all that we are together. There is no yours and mine with us...it is ours and we are an us. I am not always happy about this, and neither is she. We are honest in our trials and we mean it when we say there are days, weeks...even months...where we nothing more than to cut the ties and run far and fast.
But we don't. And that is the heart of the definition. I married her. I stood in a foggy grove last year and promised her all of my tomorrow, and despite whatever challenges may come, I meant it. I'm not sure what could break us after so long, because each time I think we are broken, we renew. I don't know what is about her, or about our love, but I'm in.
And this is where it gets hard. I can easily define myself in terms of them. They are at the very, very heart of me and without them, I am not me. And yet...there is always, and has always been, a persistent voice that reminds me (sometimes forcefully) that I am more than the lubricant and stability in the lives of three other people. There are parts of me that exist, and would continue to thrive, without them. The voice under it all that is uniquely mine that nobody else touches or defines. It is this voice that I think truly defines ME, but it is hardest one for me to honor. I don't think that is an unusual phenomenon. What I do think is unusual is that I acknowledge it, and don't apologize for it, and attempt to make space for those parts in an already full-to-the-brim life.
How do I describe those parts of me? How do I tell you about my humor, which is sarcastic and often dances on the razor edge of acceptability? Do I tell you about my stubbornness or my drama? Do I share that I have huge insecurities about my body, but I am completely in love with it and how it has taken me through 34 years? Do I talk about my love of sex, all things sex, all things deviant and dirty? Do I explain my love of risk-taking and the darker side of my personality that demands attention some times? Do we talk about my politics or the fiery passion that erupts every time elections roll around? Do I share with you my complete lack of filter and how much I love that about me?
I don't know where to start. I am intense. I never feel something weakly. I'm either all in or I'm not interested. I like to know the dirty details, the nitty gritty. I love other people's stories and I love hearing other people's perspective on my life. I take what others say to me and roll it around, see how it feels. I listen and offer opinions. I truly love and care for the people in my life. Once you are inside the inner circle, there is nothing I won't do for you. I am selfless to a fault and I try to offer my best to the world, even when it is not returned. I give gifts, I cherish my friendship and I enjoy the little crushes that develop when I meet truly interesting people.
I don't believe in monogamy, but I live by the rules of monogamy because my marriage would fail if I did otherwise. I am not religious in any way...at least not in the Christian sense of the word. I don't believe in God and I am not afraid of death. I think the most interesting people I meet are those who look the part but live differently...with no other definition than that. I am not interested in the image projected, but rather the person under all of the fake bullshit. I seek out real and crave honesty.
What you'll get from me is probably too much. I am a bull in a china shop, and I am unapologetic about that. I also struggle from time to time, worrying that I am too much and I secretly fear that most people would rather have me out of their lives rather than in. Sometimes I hide behind my own bullshit because it's easier than standing in my truth. Sometimes I hate me.
There is always a split in my life - there are the things I do and the things I feel and think. Often, these things don't match up or the crossover happens in weird and seemingly disconnected ways. I think that a stranger would look at me and see a nice, heterosexual, youngish mother with lots to do. I hope they would see my smile and feel welcomed into my life. I hope they would notice my warmth and my openness to new experience. Mostly, I hope that when those strangers become friends and then close friends that they would see the gritty, hardcore, drama-loving, woman-adoring lesbian under the facade.
I often feel like the best parts of me are lost in the requirements of my life. I always feel anger when I feel that way. If there is area I struggle with, it is this. It is in the honoring of who I am outside of the family we created and support. I struggle with accepting that I will fail them sometimes and with knowing that it's okay to choose my needs first on occasion. I don't do that well.
My last definition of me is you. I am changed by the people I choose to keep in my life. I listen to the people around me because I trust that you have something to offer my life. I truly believe that we have something important to bring to each other's lives or we wouldn't have met. So share your truth with me. I'll share mine.
About Me?
I decided to start blogging again about a month ago. I created my little blog, read back through some of my old blog posts from previous blogs, and opened up a new window to start typing away. And I sat and stared at the blank page for a bit before deciding that I was going to update my "About Me" page. That should be easy enough for me. So I opened it up and I started typing...and I realized that everything I wrote focused on mothering or wifery or homemaking. And all three of those things make up what I do and make up the three most important people in my life...but they are not me.
So I stopped. I walked away, or was distracted away, and vowed to return after mulling it over for a bit.
A month later, I've returned. And I'm still not sure I can write the description, but I'm going to try.
I am a mother first. In all the roles I play in my life, I am a mother first and always. When my daughter was pulled from my womb, I was changed. My life focused into a single point and all that is me become something different. Prior to birth, Bailey represented a dream. She was the person I imagined holding when I was 7, the embodiment of every dream I had ever had about what my life would be when I was a grown woman. She was not real, yet. My perspective was clouded by a lack of realism and my understanding of parenting was formed by the "Parent's" magazine I read religiously each month and by my own distorted vision of how a person parents. We lovingly created her nursery, purchased her clothes and loudly proclaimed our refusal to force her into a gender identity.
And then she was born. Instead of my natural delivery, Bailey was pulled, via c-section, from my body after 2 1/2 days of attempting labor. Labor never really started for me. Our 10.9 pound child came from my body bright red, screaming bloody murder and wired with intensity and drama. She has never, ever stopped using her voice loudly...and 6 years later, I hope she never does. She changed me. She leveled every expectation I had, destroyed and then helped me rebuild the mother I have become. She quickly dispensed of the idea I carried that mothering was something to be defined and something within my control. When my body betrayed me and threw me into a dramatic and nearly life-ending post partum depression, it was Bailey who stayed present through it all. Her constant presence, more than anything, forced me to let go. I learned, within three months, that all I had thought I knew about myself as a mother, about the job of mother, about the love I would feel, the fear that would haunt me and the sacrifices I would make was all crap. She was, and the job was, more than I knew and so much different than I expected.
I struggled. Deeply, horrifically, fearfully struggled. I am not ashamed anymore to admit that I didn't like it. I was afraid that I would harbor resentment toward her, because all the changes were not good. My quality of life decreased, and the part of me that closely and jealously guarded my space and my autonomy was pissed as hell. I didn't blame her, I didn't blame me or my wife or the decisions we had made. And without a way to process or blow off those intense and entirely unexpected feelings, I turned them inward where they became so toxic that I become suicidal. Medication helped, but it was mostly time that brought that under control. Time is a parent's best friend.
When Bailey was only 9 months old and when I was not far enough away from the trauma of her birth, I convinced my wife it was time for another child. We wanted them close. We wanted our children to grow up together and it was the last remaining vision I had that the reality of parenting had yet to shatter. I dreamed that another child would fix what has broken in so many areas of my life. I tried, and failed, to get pregnant twice. After the second attempt, I made the first really good decision of my life as a parent and I told my wife I did not want to carry another child. She stepped up and it was her body and her experience that would carry our son. We were pregnant three months later.
Again, from almost the start, the illusions proved to be fake and it felt like my life exploded into insanity. My wife was sick from almost the beginning; so sick she was medicated for 17 weeks to keep food in her belly. She was weak from the physical toll, exhausted from managing her own emotions and her reality, and completely and utterly distracted by the enormity of a decision to undertook without knowing how completely it would change her. I was shocked into another version of parenting truth...one in which I did 99% of the work while my wife grew a child. Bailey, no less of a force for intensity and drama, was walking, talking and creating chaos every where. We both worked, we both lost our minds.
And then he was born. We were complete. Our son came into the world much like he lives it. He was quiet at birth and struggled for his first breaths. He sought my wife, as all newborns do, and was happiest at her breast. Through Connor, I knew love like I had never known it in the first months of Bailey's life.
I have no illusions anymore. My children have torn to shreds what I thought I knew, and what was rebuild in the gaping hole of my expectations was a truth so solid and important...that nothing else mattered, ever, as long as I chose to love them. Everything else was detail and subject to change. Eventually, I left my job and took on the role of stay at home mother. I have been doing that for 3 years and 8 months. Bailey is 6 and starting 1st grade. Connor is 4 1/2 and starting preschool. I have time that I haven't had for years. Again, I am changed.
I am a parent first.
More later...
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