NaBloPoMo FAIL.

Ok, ok...I will raise the white flag proudly and accept defeat. THREE births in FOUR days (with very little sleep in between labors) can really knock a gal down for the count! Seriously. It has been one, never-ending dayandnightanddayandnightanddayandnight and finally, the weekend!

Which is now over, and my week is starting all over again tomorrow. Great.

Happy Monday.

Life Before Birth

Very Early Parenting: An African Model, A Child's Song

"There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they've been born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother's mind.

And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she's heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child's father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child's song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child's song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child's song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.

And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing--for the last time--the song to that person".

Story attributed to Jack KornfieldIn Wayne Muller, "How, Then, Shall We Live?"


If you are pregnant, know someone who is pregnant, or thinking about becoming pregnant, please check out Birth Psychology: Life Before Birth. So much of what we read has to do with what to expect physically during pregnancy, birth, and postpartum; but what about emotions? what about psychology? Motherhood is a journey and all aspects need to be processed, prepared for, grieved for, embraced, or even rejected...but not discounted.

Crizzap!

Well...another day I missed with NaBloMoShoPodoodah! Ummm, I guess it's ok because I just don't have anything interesting to say at the moment. And who wants to read about nothing? Isn't that why we browse other people's blogs??



I'd like to blame it on pregnancy brain because I'm surrounded by pregnant women all the time! I firmly believe that just as women's cycles can synchronize, so can pregnancy brain and other crazy hormones. Muwahahaha!!

A comment I'd like to share

Having just returned from the birth of an eleven pound baby boy, born at home and perfect in every way...I can't help but ponder some of the reasons why I am doing what I am doing. Homebirth is not for everyone, in fact, only 2% of the US population gives birth at home. However we can find common ground. If you look at the statistics, there is no doubt our country is in desperate need of maternity care overhaul! Visiting one of the websites I HATE (angry OB turned anti-homebirth and wants every one to know it!), I came across the following comment.

[and I felt like posting]

From Kneelingwoman:

Hello Everyone:

I might suggest that you join forces with a broader notion of maternal and infant health and well being and work alongside people like me who are trying to get educated about a more sane and balanced approach to childbirth that acknowledges the risks but also understands that many, many women truly need a more human-scale, compassionate and yes, for many, more natural and straightforward approach to birth. Hospitals and Birth Centers can accomplish these goals with no loss of safety for mother or baby. Home Birth can be made more safe by improved attention to educating and training midwives in recognizing and dealing with emergency situations. There are so many babies and women dying in childbirth in developing countries, and I truly think that more women would be willing to being open to a more balanced view of birth and parenting if that balance were PRESENTED. As it stands, everything here is extreme, polarized and seems to exist not to educate and inform, but to attack and encourage dissent and disunity. Why not try to find the common ground and grow from there? Sometimes, you have to meet people where they are to make any change.

If you believe that the current system of home birthing care is harming women and babies then stick to education and add a willingness to truly listen when young women come here to ask questions; listen and perhaps sit on your hands for a few minutes before deftly slicing her apart at the seams sending her away with nothing new except a belief that people in authority can't be trusted and that she is probably right when she concludes that Dr's are control freaks who don't care about women. If you don't want to grow the attitudes that encourage a certain sub set of NCB advocates to become extreme in their views and actions---don't feed it by giving them exactly what they think they're going to get. Show some kindness and hold your ground at the same time.

So, there are good things that can happen if you keep your eye on what you are trying to accomplish. If you want to change lives and minds, you have to give people information in a way that doesn't knock them off their own center. The battering ram/bullying approach only makes them withdraw; nothing changes.

I know this goes both ways. I will always do my best to respect WOMEN'S CHOICES, (no matter what those choices are), because I support a woman's right to choose. PERIOD.

bizarre

Where is Perez when you need him?! Hmmm? I expected SOMEONE to totally rip on Taylor Swift for her performance on the CMA's last night...I have been sorely disappointed. I guess winning Album of the Year had something to do with it, eh? This punk rock/teenage angst thing just wasn't workin for her...and actually, she reminded me of ME (long legs, lanky, not great with choreography but following someone else's dance steps anyway) and I just felt bad for her. Okay, I felt bad for myself. But whatever. Watch the video. You decide.



*word of caution, the song AND the bizarre outbreak (I mean break out) performance by Taylor kinda grows on you after a while

mid-day DO OVER!

Today was not starting out well...I missed Thanksgiving lunch with Tiny and her Kindergarten class, waiting for Sweetie's class to come an hour later when I got called out for work. It was one of those "drop everything and run" phone calls. I didn't even get to say good-bye or explain to Sweetie why I would not be waiting for her in the school cafeteria.

When I got home a few hours later, both girls were in tears because I had let them down. Not only did I let them down, but they got their feelings HURT. Tiny went so far as to say she wished she wasn't here because then I "would be able to go to Sweetie's lunch and then Bud-duh's lunch and nobody would be left alone". I felt so bad...crawled back into my bed (pillows over top) and cried.


Thankfully there was little time for self-pity. Nannie and Poppie took Tiny to get new shoes, Bud-uh went with Daddy to cub scouts, which left Sweetie and I to enjoy a (spur of the moment) girls night out! We walked to the Chinese restaurant and laughed and giggled and talked and snuggled. Followed by dessert at Dunkin' Donuts...it was so nice to be with her.






*Tonight was in no way a "kiss up" for skipping out on her, though I don't know I can fully express what I am feeling. It was as though I was being given a "do over" to my day. The Lord recognized this need in my life and provided a way to show me I was going to be OK after all. Thank you.

Rain, rain...

I know things happen for a reason. I know that when we listen to our inner selves (see previous post for expansion on that idea), we can be instruments in the hands of someone greater than us all.

November is a difficult month for a dear friend of mine. Nine years ago she found her son's body in the condo he had been renting. He was almost 19 years old. I was heartbroken when I heard the news. The autopsy reports were inconclusive. He had a history of seizures; therefore the doctor ruled accidental death, but my dear friend feels differently. She is still searching for answers, searching for the truth. Late last night I had the impression that I should send her a YouTube song or video...something to comfort her or bring her some peace. (She's a fan of music this way.) So I began searching with the Beatles and "Let it Be"...seemed like a great song with an inspirational message. But I kept searching. I stumbled upon "Stairway to Heaven" and bookmarked it; thinking that song was too bold. Nearly an hour later, I was still holding onto the last song...finally I sent it to her.

"And as we wind on down the road Our shadows taller than our soul There walks a lady we all know Who shines white light and wants to show How everything still turns to gold And if you listen very hard The truth will come to you at last When all are one and one is all To be a rock and not to roll And she's buying a stairway To heaven..."





And this is the reply I received from my dear friend:

amazing that you came up with that song, when i came home from funeral party (my son's friends) around 2 a.m. by myself in my dark house all alone, my radio came on out of nowhere (i did NOT turn it on) playing exactly that.....these are the moments that make meaning out of unanswered questions. little signs. the first sign was when it came on the radio, this is a seconding of that first one. comforting. like, its all in place....

mo'blogging

Roadtrip all day yesterday...no posting. How sad. Oh well. If I'd have mobile blogged yesterday, it would have ended with lots of swearing and awkward silences. (Doesn't make for good reading- unless you're me and you want to feel like someone else "knows how I feel" and can relate to ME!)

there I go with the multiple personalities thing again.

Ya know, I'd like me if I never met me. Seriously. I think I'm a pretty cool gal.

Titles for the day...

Tiny didn't get the memo (hello sunrise!).
Why Handy Manny?!
You wanna do WHAT to my spine?
Anxiety in a needle.
Fix up the car, fix up the mama.
New tires or a vacation in Hawaii?
Who took away my Sunday afternoon nap?
Jacuzzi jets- watch out, they spit!
Pillaging Daddy D.O.'s house, quite the rush!
Time was far spent ; (
Didn't miss a NabloPoMo day- I haven't gone to bed yet! So there.

And my favorite:
Dear Sunday afternoon nap, where the hell were you??

How many days in November??

Well crap...look what I've gotten myself into with Nabloshmopo... I have been on the road all day, need to get some school work done, probably even go to bed and get some much needed rest. Instead, well? Here I am fulfilling my duty.

So I decided to take a trip up north to visit Willy D.O. (aka Daddy). Driving through Tennessee this time of year was...well, to be honest? A little disappointing this time around! I don't know if my outlook was poor (I'm still having some health issues and not much of a happy camper these days) or if all the trees and all the beautiful fall leaves were, well... just dying and rotting leaves, nothing even close to breathtaking as I remember from previous years of making the same drive.

Either I need an attitude adjustment or mother nature does!

Hopefully Willy D.O. will be able to work some doctor magic, get me feeling 110% again, and sprinkle some fairy dust on the trees and make them sparkle for my drive back home Monday. And not this fairy dust...the OTHER kind of fairy dust, ya know, like Tinkerbell and the Sparrowmen? Oh wait, dad doesn't wear green tights either. Damn. Nevermind. Skip the fairy dust part--go right for the touch of gold.

LIKE KING MIDAS!
Yes, that's the one.

p.s. before you go throwing stones at me... I've already done it for you. No need to say you feel my remarks were offensive. (And just for the record, there were men dressed as actual fairies in the pride parade-- hence the jog down memory lane!) So there.

Listen to instinct...

I know something has been nagging me lately, and I just haven't felt WELL.

Having run-ins with doctors, teachers, clients...I am reminded again and again of how important trusting my instincts can be. If something doesn't feel right, if something seems off...guess what?! I'm going to go with it because chances are my instincts are telling the truth. And trusting these instincts and following through with the promptings I am given can be a tough choice to make, but it's one that I will go with [despite your books, and your wisdom, and your research]--I will go with MY GUT.



Whether you call it mother's intuition, gut feelings, listening to your inner self or your conscience, or the whisperings of the Holy Spirit...all describe one thing: guidance for your actions. And my intuition is telling me something is not right. Maybe YOU are the one that needs to "listen".


My new mantra for this month (and possibly for the rest of my life):
“A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.”~ William Wordsworth

Dear department of transportation: YOU SUCK.

When my oldest started Kindergarten, (which made me unhappy to say the least)...the idea of sending her to school on the bus gave me a stomachache. I never thought I would be "that parent" standing out at the bus stop; I hated everything about the idea from the lack of seatbelts to the creepy old men that drove those things. However due to other adorable children (ahem) in our neighborhood, the idea of riding the bus eventually stormed into our household. I fought it for as long as I could, but I did indeed succumb to the beggings of a 5 yr old and allow her to step on that bus.

[Fast forward 4 years] Now all three of the munchkins are in school, and life has become simplified by riding that bus. While I am not happy that our bus route is the first one of the day and the last one in the afternoon, I still try to be grateful for having the capability to rely on public transportation when necessary.

[background info] My kids leave for school at 7:14 a.m. and return home at 2:56 p.m. (note that school is from 8:00 a.m. - 2:20 p.m.), not terrible but my kids are "second load" meaning they are the only route that has to wait until all the kids get dropped off first before being picked up from school (which is an extra 20-25 minutes of waiting). The fact that they have not changed this route in 4 years still pisses me off...my children are away from home much longer than they need to be already and yet they won't rotate the bus schedule so it's at least fair.

[fast forward to today]...imagine my surprise when the bus driver hands us a sheet with "bus stop changes", which also requires our children to be waiting at the corner of the neighborhood 5 minutes earlier than the new time.

OUR NEW TIME?! 7:00 a.m.

So let me get this straight...you already hoard my children before they've even had a chance to really wake up in the morning, you ditch them like leftovers in the afternoon, and now you want to start this whole process 15 minutes EARLIER?!

Look- let me put it this way, Mrs. "thank you for your patience in making this adjustment and ensuring your child's continued transportation needs are met" I have your number on speed dial and you are CRAZY if you woke up this morning thinking today is going to be a good day.

Year in Review (err Blog in review)

I lost my blog passion a couple years ago. [and let's be honest, it was replaced with FB obsession] But I once heard "obsession is the word lazy people use for dedication", so we'll just go with that!

In order to find myself (and to try to reconnect with the old me) I read through some old posts- and I have to say it was like discovering a different person!

I laughed in the middle of the night. I can't believe how self-deprecating I have been on this blog!! Now I'm convinced I have multiple personalities...I can't even remember writing these things, and while surfing through my archives, it was as though we had never met.

Hi. My name is Little Miss.

And I need to stick with the meds

and stay away from sharp objects.

80/20

My brother in-law called last night. I believe the timing was just what I needed. He shared a story with me...

The girls' room has been a disaster for a long time now. Every attempt we have made to get them to put their toys away, clean their room, make their beds, and put way their clothes has failed. We have bribed; we have rewarded; we have threatened; and yet still, we have failed. Finally (mother and father) decided the girls may choose 20% of what is currently in their room to keep in their room. The rest is getting boxed up. That's right. 80% of their clothes, toys, shoes, games, stuffed animals, dresses, and even underwear were boxed up and placed in the attic. The rule was made that if they could handle a simplified version of their room, slowly they could earn back some of their belongings. [And their room was bare bones of what it was before!] After the screaming and the fits, one of the girls came downstairs and said, "you know daddy, I kind of like my room now".

Pondering this story I can't help but think about how cluttered our lives can become. I can't count the number of times I have felt overwhelmed with my life and looked for ways to be rescued. Can you imagine if we were to box up of 80% of our time, our issues, our concerns, and our "freedoms" how great that 20% could become?? My brother in-law, being faced with great challenges over the past several years, suggested that perhaps trials are the Lord's way of sweeping out the 80% that bogs us down, teaching us what is truly important, and helping us to take care of the simplest 20%...and if we can manage, He just might bless us with the other 80.

yes- that SMELL?!

Having been pregnant three times, there are certain ummm...alterations my body has made.

1. I can wet my pants with a sneeze or two jumps on a trampoline (try me!)


2. My boobs sag like my grandma's (only hers were double EE's, mine are just double)


3. My gag reflex has been forever altered.

For example, if you cook fish in this house, if you cook eggs in this house, or if you cook fish AND eggs in this house, I will gag. If I change a really horrible diaper, chances are, I will gag. If there is something rotting in the backseat or in the garage or in the fridge, guess what? I will gag.



So do not be surprised if the smell of rotting cabbage (otherwise known as sauerkraut) being heated over the stove makes me GAG. It's not your cooking that is making me gag; it's your choice of ingredients.



And if I have to plunge the clogged toilet and scoop shit out by hand in order to get the thing to flush, do not be surprised if I run to the sink and gag and vomit. Even if it is only 5 minutes after the last time I gagged due to the rotting vegetables simmering in my kitchen...I am not saying your cooking is the equivalent of scooping SHIT OUT OF THE TOILET.



You made that connection all on your own, and I can't be blamed for the physiological changes my body has endured by carrying your children. I'm just sayin...we all have to make sacrifices.

Get with the times, or GET AWAY from the times?

Social networking has hit an all time high with the rising popularity of Facebook. [sounds like a CNN lead-in, right?] Well I tripped over my pajama bottoms and fell deep into the FB abyss months ago ((ok, ok-- years ago)) and have never really come out, except maybe a time or two to rival the curiosity I had been fighting.

It's true, FB became my "new blog" over the past couple of years. I started with a few friends, a few acquaintances. The numbers rose, I felt quite popular, and it wasn't long before I accepted "friends" that I had never met before. Now as a blogger, I was used to this. It didn't bother me that I had a wall full of people that knew nothing about me other than what I slapped in that 240 character space I called my own.

However the more people I accepted as "friends," the more conservative I found myself. And I did not like it! The more I relied on FB, the less I cared about my blog. I began to miss my freedom of expression. I missed venting without offending my family or the people I knew, or family who knew the people I knew but didn't know me or see me on a regular basis. (Not that my blog wasn't offensive in some ways...certainly it was!) But I was thinking last night, "I can be offensive if I wanna be because, well, it's my own personal corner of the world wide web and I'm not forcing anyone to read what I have to say. Besides, it's not like blogger has a graffiti wall or something!"

And that's when it hit me.

My Facebook page has become a grafitti wall!

It all makes perfect sense now. Because I am part of this FB network, I am subjecting all of my "friends" to the links I have posted and the words I have written. I can virtual slap someone across the face, I can virtual hug someone who is sad, and I can get into a virtual argument with the people I consider to be my "friends". The downfall? It's all public. [And my friends are your friends and your friends have friends that are friends with my friends and then they want to be friends with me so they can express their unwarranted opinions which offend my friends and suddenly we're all defriending each other and starting over.]

I think it's time for me to nurture my creativity once again (read: vent and bitch and gripe and moan without fear of repercussion). I have joined NaBloPoMo for this year in an attempt to keep my spirits motivated and my head clear. Wish me luck!