tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90725535052039810412024-03-13T23:15:35.613-07:00Pudding. Without Meat.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-7333968911945568502012-05-05T11:24:00.001-07:002012-05-05T11:24:08.512-07:00Google is as Google doesQuite some time ago I changed my email address. Well, since you can't actually *change* your email address with Google, I created a new one. My blog is connected to my old email address. So is my YouTube channel. <br />
<br />
After searching and searching and SEARCHING I cannot find a way to move all of my things over to my new email address.<br />
<br />
But keeping up with one email address is enough, two is just crazy talk.<br />
So I started a new blog. It's at shannonroot.com<br />
Currently it only has new things there, but I will be moving all of these posts over, via copy and paste (thank God I don't write all that much) ;-)<br />
<br />
When I finish that I will move my YouTube videos over as well.<br />
<br />
When I finish *that* I will cancel this email address and everything that goes with it.<br />
<br />
So, please, if you want to continue following my blog come on over there and click subscribe. I'd really appreciate that if you do that you cancel your subscription over here when you add me over there. <br />
<br />
I'm taking attendance after all... :-PCORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-56483627363206927222011-10-16T20:39:00.000-07:002011-10-16T20:39:36.428-07:00A big ole lesson in self acceptanceSometime last week or the week before (if it was over a couple days ago, it pretty much turns into the big abyss of 'a couple weeks ago') I went swimming at the Y. Zane, Stori, Mamaw, and I packed our things up and went. My bag got taken out of the locker and rummaged through. Totally bizarre with the way this particular Y is set up... Lockers in a public hallway across from family changing rooms. Anyway, it did. Nothing got stolen but everything was left on one of the family changing rooms' floor and wet and ya' know.. it never feels good to be 'searched' without your permission.<br />
<br />
So that day we came in and I threw all of the towels into the drier for a few minutes to ya' know... dry them.<br />
<br />
The next day was a Monday. Which means I go to the Y for some weight lifting and such. <br />
<br />
I was kind of in a little hurry that day so I opted against grabbing my towel out of the dryer. Since I knew I was running late, I figured I'd skip my warm up and I'm getting used to my new weight lifting routine so I'm going a little slower. I figured I'd work out lightly enough that I'd learn my new thing a bit better but not work up a sweat.<br />
<br />
I got to the Y, dropped the kids off at Child Watch and fantasized about sitting down with a cup of heavily creamed decaf coffee and doing NOTHING all by myself for an hour. I decided against the fantasy and got changed up and ready. As soon as my foot hit the floor on the weights floor I was motivated and ready to go! I forgot all about my plans and did my full warm up and went straight into the weights. I hardly took breaks and kept my heart rate up. I was feelin' awesome! Such a hard workout and it was just what I needed. Funny how hesitation works. ;-) I fantasized about taking the time off, but it was a silly little thought...<br />
<br />
I was nearing the end of my workout when I realized my predicament. I was in a full sweat, tired, and done a little early, 'cause I blasted through it. <br />
<br />
And I didn't have a towel.<br />
<br />
Now, if you've spent any time in a locker room you know good and well that there are a few people who are really comfortable with themselves. Every time I see a nakie on the scale I think "Wow! SHE is awesome. Fearless, accepting, powerful" And I know most of these women are a couple generations ahead of me and I think it was more common in their day to shower together in highschool and such. I grew up, however, in times without showers in the locker rooms at school and I didn't participate in sports much at all. So walking around in the buff around others just isn't in my toolbox of 'things I do'.<br />
<br />
But I was sweaty. <br />
<br />
I started to go back and forth about my options. I had improv practice soon. As it is on Mondays I get done at the Y, finish dinner (which I have to start earlier in the day on Mondays), connect with the kids over dinner, then leave for practice. So. <br />
<br />
I could not shower and get dressed and do my thing. I wouldn't have time to shower at home, that's for sure. Extra deodorant? A touch of baby powder to absorb the sweat? Hope no one gets close to me at practice?<br />
<br />
I could shower without a towel and get dressed in the shower area while wet and sticky. <br />
<br />
I could shower without a towel and prance my happy ass to my locker (which is clear across the whole shabang from the shower area).<br />
<br />
I could go home in my workout clothes, try to take a 'bird bath' (ya' know... freshen up the important bits from the sink) and get dressed in regular clothes quickly at home.<br />
<br />
As I pondered these options, they each had their drawbacks and their benefits. My workout was soon finished and I was walking up the stairs and to the locker room, still without a decision being made. I came to my locker, opened it, and looked into it for the answer. And there it was.<br />
<br />
I ONLY hesitated about the shower because um... I do NOT have a body for displaying. And frankly, with the weight issues I'm currently dealing with I've got some serious shame about my body. I always have, in fact. I have intense body image dysfunction. I have always concerned myself over if I'm fat here or there or if my skin is a little too soft here or there, etc. Lots of women do, but it's clear to Jon and myself that this is a serious thing to me. <br />
<br />
So if the truth is that even when I've weighed 110lbs as an adult and found myself to be a little too soft somewhere and at my new found 150 (yeah, that's right, I just told you how much I weigh. And I'm embarrassed, but that embarrassment is silly and if I'm trying to write a post about empowerment and self acceptance then I darned better well be forthcoming) I can appreciate certain curves and softnesses that I never knew I wanted before I had them, then this whole body image thing is really just a mental and emotional space I can choose to be in or not. Right?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XihpTxb7-0U/TpuiFdaEkhI/AAAAAAAAANQ/i68_aXXR-aQ/s1600/428417-R1-018-7A_006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XihpTxb7-0U/TpuiFdaEkhI/AAAAAAAAANQ/i68_aXXR-aQ/s320/428417-R1-018-7A_006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Right.<br />
<br />
And you know where I don't want to be?<br />
<br />
Stuck.<br />
<br />
Anywhere. For any reason. <br />
<br />
So I took off all of my darn clothes, and I grabbed my razor and pumice stone and I marched my happy, naked bootay across the whole locker room and into the showers and I cleaned myself. <br />
<br />
Because no matter how much I weigh. No matter how bumpy or not my thighs are. No matter the shape of my breasts. No matter the tightness of my belly.<br />
<br />
I deserve to be clean.<br />
<br />
And that's what it all came down to. For me. On that day.<br />
<br />
My march to the shower was easy. The locker room was empty. And while I started the walk with anxiety in my stomach as I got there and realized no one was around anyway, I felt like a rockstar for doing it. I was as chipper as a bluebird and even had the desire to sing in the shower. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-96jwmBwUUrg/TpujUoqdcsI/AAAAAAAAANY/1b68DfNHKnk/s1600/041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-96jwmBwUUrg/TpujUoqdcsI/AAAAAAAAANY/1b68DfNHKnk/s320/041.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And when I walked back, I held my shoulders back, my chin up, and again marched my happy, naked bootay across the whole locker room back to my locker. I passed several women this time. The anxiety was there. It was kickin'. But there was also the joy and pride in myself knowing that I was doing the exact.same.thing. I admire so much in other women.<br />
<br />
Just being me.<br />
<br />
In the flesh.<br />
<br />
I don't plan on never bringing a towel again. But I do plan on doing this regularly.<br />
<br />
Thank God for my body and its ability to morph through life with me. My mind has been different in stages in my life. My spirit has risen and fallen with the tides of my experiences. My energy and the way it is expressed has fluidly been with me in all of my changes. And so has this body of mine. Bless it for what it is at this time, as it is simply an interpretation of me.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-650356986753031272011-09-01T08:14:00.000-07:002011-09-01T08:14:34.842-07:00RAD is not an 'adoption disease'Being involved in the "RAD community" for a bit over a year now, I can tell you one thing: adoption, adoption, adoption.<br />
<br />
Having experienced RAD in our home and recognizing my own severe attachment troubles I can tell you another thing: that whole adoption thing is bullshit.<br />
<br />
WHATTTT????? Did I just say that with the intention to peeve every single one of my RAD-living friends?<br />
<br />
No. I didn't. I said it because it's true and it needs to be said.<br />
<br />
Cause there are a LOT of kids in the world who are living with their biological parents, whom they've always lived with, which are living with RAD and not being given the proper care for their relationship struggles. Instead, they're being diagnosed as Bipolar or ODD or even with Aspergers Syndrome.<br />
<br />
Now, firstly, let me hit the ground running and say I am not a psychologist. I would never be one, no matter how much the human brain and human emotions excite me. 'Cause I don't want to be dealin' with the folks who are laying in bed with big pharma. I won't go all the way there today. But, again, my BIG HUGE ANNOYING BUT NEEDING TO BE HEARD DISCLAIMER is that I am not a mental health professional in any way, nor do I intend to present myself as one.<br />
<br />
Good, we have that out of the way. Whew!<br />
<br />
But in my experience, I've seen it already. We spent 3 years with doctors and counselors, psychiatrists and psychologists, even a nearly week-long stay in a 'facility'. And never was RAD brought up. It was brought up by a daycare worker 5 years ago, but I knew nothing more than the word and it held no 'gusto' for me until much, much later when I remembered her mentioning it. So why is it that we now know we have a solid RAD 'case'? <br />
<br />
Because 100% of the 'signs and symptoms' are present. <br />
<br />
Because the conversations I have with other RAD Moms are ones in which they understand the full extent of the behaviors in our life. <br />
<br />
Because after bringing it to the psychiatrist his response was "We keep the RAD diagnosis for kids who have been in and out of foster care for years or have endured a lot of abuse or severe neglect. We can't medicate for RAD anyway, so let's just keep exploring the mood disorders." Yeah, so what I was talking about before... in bed with big pharma...<br />
<br />
We've brought the idea to a marriage counselor we were seeing (who ended up to be a quack anyway, so we stopped seeing her quickly, but the point is the same. This is a 'mental health professional'.) We were sharing some of our marital stresses and one of which was the extreme behaviors we have going on in our house sometimes. After sharing a pee incident (let me get a "what what!" from my fellow RAD parents!) she looked at Jon and I in awe and said something incredibly rude and unprofessional. <br />
<br />
When searching for an attachment therapist in our area we saw they were all also specialists in the field of 'adoption issues'.<br />
<br />
So if we can go back to the psychiatrist's explanation of why he won't consider that diagnosis, he said it was because Zane didn't endure foster care, abuse, or severe neglect. My immediate thought from that is that there is a distinction between RAD and PTSD. Why then would a psychiatrist not even consider RAD in a biologically parented child who doesn't have PTSD? Further! Here are the symptoms of childhood PTSD:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"></span><br />
<ul style="color: #534741; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><li>worry about dying at an early age</li>
<li>losing interest in activities</li>
<li>having physical symptoms such as headaches and stomachaches</li>
<li>showing more sudden and extreme emotional reactions</li>
<li>having problems falling or staying asleep </li>
<li>showing irritability or angry outbursts</li>
<li> having problems concentrating</li>
<li>acting younger than their age (for example, clingy or whiny behavior, thumbsucking)</li>
<li>showing increased alertness to the environment</li>
<li>repeating behavior that reminds them of the trauma</li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #534741; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Many of these symptoms are also present in the diagnosis of RAD. Most of them are present in my child. Who has not been abused, severely neglected, or lived in foster care.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So it must be with that whole big pharma fellatio business, eh?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Energetically speaking, it is completely logical that a fetus, developing in the womb of a woman who is not attached to said child is experiencing trauma simply by their lack of connection. Moreso, for said infant to be born to a woman who lacks the ability to emotionally and energetically attach to them. THAT IS TRAUMA, Y'ALL.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Done and done. Period.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So, there's a big buzz going around that RAD is being removed from the next installment of the DSM. Wonder why they're removing it? Oh, that's right... ALMOST EVERY SINGLE TASK FORCE MEMBER FOR THE DSM-V IS IN BED WITH BIG PHARMA.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not making it up!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not theorizing!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Go <a href="http://www.dsm5.org/MeetUs/Pages/TaskForceMembers.aspx">here</a>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Click on each name. Look at their professional disclosures.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Yeah. That's a LOT of financial blow jobs, dontcha' think?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Since RAD is not a medicated disorder, it is being eliminated.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Now, not only are people adopting babies and not being given proper support, but there have got to be thousands upon thousands of children in our very country who, like Zane, are born to their biological parent and raised by their biological parent and are not being supported in getting healthy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">All because big pharma isn't paying anyone to help these kids. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Fortunately, we have found our voice. We have a family counselor who agrees and sees it. She's not an attachment therapist, but she validates us and she cares for Zane and she keeps her ears peeled for anyone in the business in our area who can work with Zane. Currently he is seeing someone who can help discern what's going on for Zane and giving him his own place to go and talk honestly. No one has been willing to do this for Zane before. No one. Disturbing...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And there ARE ways to heal these relationships. There ARE methods to managing the emotions and behaviors with this 'disorder'. Not all children will heal. For some, it just is their life story to not. But there are a hell of a lot of kids on this planet who can be healed -RIGHT ALONG WITH THEIR PARENTS- and need to be healed and deserve to feel better.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After all, in my personal view of the whole thing, RAD is not a disorder or a disease. It is a symptom, itself, of the underlying cause which is a lack of emotional and energetic attachment to other humans.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It certainly is not some disease caused by being adopted. </span><br />
<br />
CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-80615725364379549352011-08-05T08:07:00.000-07:002011-08-05T08:07:06.057-07:00Pudding like diarrheaYEAH! That's the exciting Google search of the week that brought someone to my blog.<br />
<br />
I definitely hope they're feeling better, though, and that's for real. Diarrhea sucks. When it's comparable to pudding, which should be a delightful treat, it's even worse. <br />
<br />
Dear person who's pooping like pudding,<br />
I really, REALLY hope your tummy is feeling better. I also hope you had a moment to sneak around this blog and found something that was fun and entertaining while you were in your suffering. Or, as my improv director likes to say, it doesn't have to be funny. Maybe someone could actually stretch or grow from what we do.<br />
<br />
Yes, that please. <br />
<br />
So, I like stretching and growing, ya know. I joined <a href="http://hannahsharvest.com/">Hannah Marcotti</a>'s <a href="http://hannahsharvest.com/thejoyup/">Joy Up</a> a few days ago. I'd been thinking about it for some time, but I was hesitant. Mainly because when I first heard of her it was before a fall cleanse. So I tried the cleanse. <a href="http://puddingwithoutmeat.blogspot.com/2010/11/you-get-what-you-ask-for.html">Remember?</a> Didn't go so well. Not because of her, her method, or her intent. I just was NOT prepared or invested.<br />
<br />
So anyway, I hesitated on this Joy Up, with memories of my big giant fail. A friend/mentor/pal from my first <a href="http://www.visionarymom.com/">Visionary Mom</a> team put something on her FB wall about it on the first day and said it was the first day and rockin. I decided to go for it then. I'm a day behind the rest of the group, because I wanted to get the full 10 days and decided to start the next morning. <br />
<br />
I also decided, for myself, that I'd give up FB while I did it. Cause I'm an addict. :-D I know that if I want to experience more JOY then I have to get offline more. I can't get completely offline since that's where my business is and my bestest tribe of women, from my second Visionary Mom team. But WOW! It's been nice not getting on Facebook. Really nice! The first day was actually difficult. I removed the FB app from my phone to help me. <br />
<br />
What I noticed, mostly, is that I *think in status updates*. Ew. And funny. How many times throughout the first two days I thought "Put this on FB" was enlightening? Disturbing? Something, anyway. I realized that I experience things with my family -or in my life- and immediately think about sharing them. Now sometimes that's a great thing. I love spreading goodness and funniness and what's going on. <br />
<br />
But I was taking myself away from the experiences too quickly.<br />
<br />
Cheating myself and those around me. In such a hurry to "spread the moment" to the "world" that I didn't allow myself to EXPERIENCE the moment with myself and those around me. This is my absolute most favorite part of being off Facebook. I'm slowing down with those who are here. And I'm looking for experiences with THEM rather than looking to hear about everyone else's experiences online. <br />
<br />
Even writing this post, right now, I keep thinking... "Is anyone going to read this? I'm not posting it on FB. Maybe it's pointless to write when I can't force it down anyone's throat."<br />
<br />
Gulp.<br />
<br />
So why do I write?? Because I like to share my thoughts. Sometimes people will read what I write and they'll feel connection. Sometimes they'll feel inspiration. Sometimes frustration. But the glory of being opinionated and trying my damndest to share those opinions respectfully is bringing about progression. Whether y'all agree with me or not, thoughts provoke other thoughts. And thought, insight, seeking is what makes people go forward. <br />
<br />
No one can dispute our need, as a people, to move forward. :-) No one that I've known of anyway. I guess there definitely are some.<br />
<br />
So back to my stinkin point...<br />
<br />
The Joy Up rocks!<br />
<br />
I wake up each day and get a touch of feel-good! I get something to focus on or to do or to think about. And it's making big changes. Hannah's hit this experience on the head! I can't tell you what I've done each day because if you want to know, you need to follow her blog and join in the next one. (I hope there will be a next one!)<br />
<br />
But I'll tell you this:<br />
<br />
Meditations that I can fit in my day!<br />
Dance parties!<br />
Zumba!<br />
Lemons!<br />
Rice noodles!<br />
Veggies!<br />
Compliments!<br />
JOY!<br />
MORE JOY!<br />
<br />
Yummm.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-19220545826448987852011-08-02T15:49:00.000-07:002011-08-02T15:49:41.425-07:00ReadyI'm ready to post again.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about it for many days now. I've considered coming back with a post about:<br />
<br />
<br />
Stori being exactly the age Zane was when we moved here (this past Saturday)<br />
<br />
My food addiction that I'm struggling with right now<br />
<br />
My recent very quick trip ti IL for a funeral and two babies. My friend and I came up with a clever movie name and said we should make one. We've said it before, too, because we were some crazy kids and our story is entertaining. To say the least.<br />
<br />
The passionate love I have for my husband and my wish for all people to find a connection like this one<br />
<br />
An attaching and healing Zane<br />
<br />
My hair and my experiences with it<br />
<br />
Our new, insane dog<br />
<br />
The slowest-made chicken coop ever that is oh-so-exciting to build<br />
<br />
My totally killer backyard and how that relates to perspective<br />
<br />
My rockin-awesome business and the celebration that it is real<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
BUT, none of those inspired me to sit at the keyboard and go at it. I kind of felt like coming back after a few attacks (both publicly and privately) maybe shouldn't be a big "this is what I think" or sharing of deep thoughts or feelings of mine.<br />
<br />
Not because they should be hidden. In fact, that's the whole fun of blogging. To inspire thought.<br />
<br />
But because I'm still feeling a bit guarded and vulnerable. <br />
<br />
<br />
However, this is my space and I do have the privilege of knowing the password. And I want to come back to it. So, what am I coming back with, you ask?<br />
<br />
Today I checked my blog stats as I was coming to write (about what I still hadn't decided and I've done this several times over the past few weeks) and I saw that one of the phrases on Google search that brought people to my blog was:<br />
<br />
"Big breast nipples"<br />
<br />
With that, I bow and exclaim "SUCCESS!"<br />
<br />
Glad to be back, friends. ;-DCORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-155162942489913162011-05-01T18:25:00.000-07:002011-05-01T18:25:17.050-07:00If you build it, they will comeA couple weeks ago I proofread an ebook for a friend. --I can't WAIT to tell you what it is!!--<br />
<br />
What I can tell you is that it's about personal growth. About rewriting our own histories. About changing our habits that we no longer want to be attached to.<br />
<br />
So while I was proofreading this bad boy, I kept thinking about a person in my life who I really wanted to read it. Someone who is great but doesn't seem to know it. Someone who holds onto a lot of pain and I wish a release for them. Someone who I want to be crazy super happy. I asked the author if I could gift it to this person and the author told me to be careful with that.<br />
<br />
I responded with this idea that "no way... I'll tell this person that this book is incredible and they should give it a try." I was going to print it out, put it together, the whole works... Because I care and I love them.<br />
<br />
I told someone else in my life that I was going to give it to them as well (the "someone in my life" knows the "them") and that person also thought it wasn't such a great idea. I explained why I thought it was a great gift and was replied to with "be careful".<br />
<br />
I've been feeling just-self-righteous-enough lately that I was still going to do it anyway.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Yesterday, a conversation was started on FB about a kid who was kicking his Mom on the way from a store. Several people said the kid needed a spanking (beating, put in his place, etc). One person before me recognized there's a chance the child has autism or some other form of health problem that might have caused it. That maybe the whole story couldn't be told in a recap of one situation.<br />
<br />
So I gave that person props for saying that. YAY! Then I went on to share that spankings are wrong and an unacceptable form of punishment. <br />
<br />
Why-oh-why did I do that?? <br />
<br />
Because it's damn important to say, that's why. I know it's not magically going to stop people from doing what they do. I get that. But I know when I was a spanker all I ever heard was that he needed more spankings. I felt.so.wrong. in my gut when I spanked. I knew it was wrong. <br />
<br />
But I had NO ONE to turn to for help on the matter. <br />
<br />
Eventually Jon and I just decided to stop. We just decided it was wrong and we didn't have any idea what the flip we were going to do to try to change Zane's violent behavior (yes, irony, but this isn't actually a spanking post. I'll get to that one day) but we knew we were going to stop. It happened again, a few times, from both of us...strictly out of habit. We both felt guilt after doing it, we were both honest with each other after doing it, and we both never gave up on learning to not do it.<br />
<br />
But we had NO ONE to turn to. Remember? How I just said that? Yeah. Cause it makes a difference, I believe.<br />
<br />
Anyway, so that's why I speak out against spanking. Because at *some* point those parents might decide, for themselves, that they don't want to hit their kids anymore. And if they've seen/heard/read that I'm firmly against it and I'm a recovered spanker then MAYBE... just maybe they will know they have someone to turn to for support. <br />
<br />
So that's why-oh-why I did that.<br />
<br />
Well, the conversation took a turn for the worst and next thing I know people are claiming their kids won't be serial killers because they were spanked -which I hadn't insinuated, people were re-defining "hit" and I was being arrogant enough to post a link to the official definition of "hit", spankings were being defended in the name of the "Lord", Dr. Dobson was brought up, etc. I recognized pain. I recognized anger. I recognized fear. I recognized shame. I thought I had kind words to share about how hurt a person is to hit their kids and how I knew that pain, because I used to do the same thing. <br />
<br />
I then was attacked more brutally than I have ever experienced in my life. By the one who is a good Christian Mom who spanks with love. I was damned to an eternity in hell, my existence was judged, and I learned I'm an evil bitch. With capital letters and lots of exclamation points. It hurt. Bad. Crazy bad.<br />
<br />
And to be frank, as I cried in Jon's arms I questioned if I really do have a nasty spirit. I asked myself if I really am such a bad person that my intentions weren't clear and if maybe I deserved everything she said to me. I inquired within myself about who I am and why I was in this position and what had I done to get there. The same things kept spinning around in my head. Spinning and spinning and replaying.<br />
<br />
It was an extremely difficult evening and night.<br />
<br />
And you know what the greatest news of all is??<br />
<br />
I'm a lot more emotionally healthy than even I knew. Because that HURT. But it didn't break me. It forced me to question. It forced me inside. I needed to know why it happened. But it did not break me.<br />
<br />
You know what I concluded?<br />
<br />
That she is hurting. So bad. She may or may not know how bad she's hurting, but she is. And I hurt for her. Because I really have been there. And no one deserves to hurt that bad. NO ONE.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So, why am I telling these two stories and titling my post after some baseball movie????<br />
<br />
Because they're the same story.<br />
<br />
And I figured out a little bit in them.<br />
<br />
The second story showed me what the author and "someone in my life" were trying to tell me, but I didn't get.<br />
<br />
No one is in charge of anyone else's healing. Or experience. Or choices. <br />
<br />
I recognized that although my intention for both of these situations were the same and were so totally clear-to offer help to someone that is hurting- it doesn't do a lick of good to try to help someone who hasn't asked for it. What that does is offend them. It tells them that I think they're inadequate.<br />
<br />
When I wanted healing from poor relationships, it didn't come because someone told me I was making bad choices. It didn't come because someone said I was worth more. It didn't come because someone cast a magic spell.<br />
<br />
It came because I wanted it. Because I realized, on my own, that I wanted better. I opened my heart for a change and it came. In the form of some hot barista. ;-) Nearly everyone we knew thought we were making a huge mistake but it didn't bother me. I knew I had opened up to something new and different and there was an experience in the forming of that relationship that told me it was what I wanted.<br />
<br />
I was able to experience my healing from my own core, because it wasn't infused with anyone else's perspective, ideas, hints, judgment, or otherwise.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So what do I do from here on out? How to I still stand up for what I believe without offending?<br />
<br />
I can't. People get offended sometimes. <br />
<br />
But what I can do is still be honest about my beliefs and not tag them to any.one.person. even if I'm having a conversation with a person with an opposing belief.<br />
<br />
This'll take some practice. <br />
<br />
But you know what? I want to have better interpersonal experiences, so I'm just gonna truck on and learn this new skill. No matter if it takes one mess up or twelve.<br />
<br />
<br />
To sum it all up: If you open the space in yourself for change, it will come. But no one else can build your <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0097351/">Field of Dreams</a> for you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dream on, friends.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-22584521660222591382011-04-19T21:53:00.000-07:002011-04-19T21:53:01.161-07:00regrets and non-regrets2 big things on my mind lately. Firstly let me point out that I don't *actually* regret anything. It may be cliche to say, but the fact is that everything occuring in the past has lead to here and now and even the most minute detail has the opportunity to have changed everything. So when I say I have a regret it doesn't mean I wish it didn't happen; it means that I'm aware that I could've done something differently and I appreciate having learned that lesson, but wonder what it would've been like had I done it the way I can now view it, in hindsight.<br />
<br />
Make sense? You got my Shannon-definition down? Good, let's go...<br />
<br />
<br />
Regret: It has been a month and a half since I returned from ORLANDO(!!!!!) I had an incredible time there and enjoyed myself immensely. I'm saving all money found in the washer and dryer as well as picked up from the ground and around the house for next year. ;-)<br />
<br />
So why the regret, you ask? Like I said, it's been a month and a half since I came back and I have ONE(1, I) person I talk to regularly. AND...we don't even talk. We text. <br />
<br />
Why's that a big deal? Well, the "big guys" told us we would form the tightest bonds and make the closest friendships from this trip, because we would bond over the most intimate parts of our home lives. I'm not demanding a refund, after all I was awarded that scholarship, remember?<br />
<br />
Why didn't I make those friendships? Is it because I smell bad? Because I'm ugly? Because I have big ears? Because I have big front teeth? Because I'm a big, fat, meanie-head? Because I burped on everyone? Because I farted in my sleep? Because I'm boring and no fun? Because I'm a judgmental ass?<br />
<br />
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, and no.<br />
<br />
It's because I didn't let myself.<br />
<br />
BAM! Take that, Shannon! I didn't stay in my house and chat and share. I didn't ask other women their stories. I didn't allow myself to ATTACH to anyone there, because I was nervous and scared and insecure and on and on and on. This is the reason I escorted drunk women around. I didn't want to experience the seriousness. I wanted to escape the seriousness. <br />
<br />
Oh isn't that interesting, because, hmmm.... I pointed out, to myself, just how insecure I am in attachment, still. Lots of you don't actually know me. I started this "If you really knew me..." thing a while back when prompted by my brilliant sister. But I didn't keep it up, because I didn't want mass judgment. ;-) So the big secret is...<br />
<br />
I have serious attachment problems. Now that I parent RAD and have learned what RAD is, I am certain that I did not have RAD when I was young, but that I did, and still do, have a version of attachment disorder. Hence my not being able to attach to Zane while pregnant or early in his life which (in addition to other experiences) lead to our current situation. See, my mom was not a Mom. When she was around, she wasn't a Mom and when she abandoned ship (I was 9), she did so with ease. My Dad was neglectful and I was pretty much raised in and out of friends' homes. Dad later decided to move elsewhere and didn't force me to go with him and I lived in his girlfriend's basement (age 16). She bought me pudding sometimes. For "food". No joke.<br />
<br />
That's the short, simple, and polite story to get to the point... Which is that as a 20-something I've begun my attachment process with my husband. He's the best therapeutic spouse a gal could ask for! And I've made SERIOUS strides over the past 5 years. It has been EXTREMELY difficult at times and such a blessing at all times. <br />
<br />
But I still don't know how to make friends. Silly, huh? I just don't know how. And all you emotionally healthy people out there are thinking, "Is here really a 'way' to do it?" Yes. There is. And I've not figured it out. I'm getting closer though. I have many, many people I consider friends. But no one I consider a "close" friend. No one that just shows up at my house. No one that comes over for no good reason but to hang out. There's one friend who is the closest, as I can call her in tears, but there's still a line in the sand. And a few that I want to become close with, but don't know how.<br />
<br />
And so, I have decided that next year, in Orlando, I will attend the big hoo-hah event where everyone is and I will go say "hi" to the ladies I already know. But I will stay at my house and I will sit in my pjs and I will relish the opportunity to bond with people. Even if it doesn't happen yet. Even if I'm not "there" yet. I'm going to do it and I'm not going to shut myself off from the opportunity like I did last time.<br />
<br />
After all, 99% of those women are <a href="http://www.housecallscounseling.com/for-parents/therapeutic-parenting-2/">parenting attachment issues anyway</a>. As long as I don't <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYcMgFrHUT8">pee on their floor</a>, <a href="http://liveforfilms.wordpress.com/2009/12/15/rage-against-the-machine-v-simon-cowells-x-factor/">rage</a> at them, or call them names, it'll still be a vacation from what they already deal with. AND they can see my nervousness for what it is. Um, yeah. Sounds like exactly the place to learn to make friends, doesn't it?? Can we just go next month, please and thank you??<br />
<br />
<br />
Non-regret: Honoring my desires. Examples:<br />
<br />
I've already talked a lot about them, I know... But do you have ANY idea how empowering it is to have <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R84rw1OxsCY&feature=channel_video_title">dreadlocked my hair</a>!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!? I love it. I love them. I am SO.GLAD. I did it. I can't say it enough. I look how I feel. Such a relief.<br />
<br />
I went to an improv jam and got offered a spot in the troupe. Wow. THEN, I reached out and asked for help from those around me. I needed to fill an hour-and-a-half time gap between me leaving for rehearsal and Jon getting home from work, every Monday. A big request. And it happened. I asked and it happened. AND I even have someone who's going to take a full rehearsal time for me so I can start earlier than Jon's shift change. Wahoo!<br />
<br />
I wanted to go to church. I want a spiritual community. I want my kids to get the "Sunday school" experience. I want to have fellowship with coffee and snacks. I want to hear powerful messages about goodness. But I didn't want the dogmatic hoopla. We are not Christians and so we'd like to spare ourselves and the kids from the fire-and-brimstone hoo-hah. We don't want Zane to come home some Sunday and ask if he's going to Hell. LOL! Just not into that. But we finally got the courage to attend a<a href="http://asuuc.net/"> UU church</a>. And we love it. Like crazy mad love. Awesomeness. Powerful messages about being good. Powerful messages about reading a book we may not disagree with because we can still find a lot of inspiration and knowledge in it. Powerful messages about standing for what we seek out to be truth, but doing so respectfully. Is it weird to say I'm a total fan of our minister? Like groupie fan? Cause I am. She's brilliant.<br />
<br />
I have an eating problem. I gorge on food. People don't take me seriously when I say that because I am not obese, but my gorging problem is just as much a problem as it is for anyone who gains the weight to go with theirs. I don't know why I don't weigh more than I do and frankly I don't care. I've not been healthy for quite some time and even while boot-camping my heart out I gained weight. Not because their program sucked (it was AMAZING and I'm really sad to not do it anymore), but because I still ate lots and lots and lots of food. And I wasn't sleeping enough, so my body was storing it all up. One night, a couple of weeks ago, I ended up with a terrible migraine and my face felt swollen and I felt so heavy I couldn't lift myself out of my chair. So I emailed someone I know and I asked for help. And I've accepted the help. And it has been glorious! It is hard to not eat what I crave (brownies, ice cream, and hot fudge anyone??). And I even had a beautiful dream about a buffet where there was plenty of delicousness -and large sprites- to choose from. I was thinking about that buffet all day, too. Oh yum. BUT, I am honoring the need to find a balanced, healthier relationship with food. My meals have been delicious. Yay for macrobiotics and learning a bit at a time!! And yay to wonderful women in my life!<br />
<br />
<br />
I think I'll call that a wrap. Both ends of the spectrum and yet they're one in the same, aren't they? Such is life... Everything is a reflection of its equal-opposite.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-72148823338849335832011-04-16T21:12:00.000-07:002011-04-16T21:12:21.732-07:00A bit of random for youMy dreadlocks are almost one month old! I love, love, love them!!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lIKcdq4q6hw/TapneE1Ag9I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/VEzLC9ZAXUc/s1600/130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lIKcdq4q6hw/TapneE1Ag9I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/VEzLC9ZAXUc/s320/130.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We got a new puppy and her name is Zoey. I don't know a lot about dogs; I've been learning since we got Rootie, but I'm not a natural. So, when she and Rootie started their domination dance a couple of days after we got her, I freaked! BUT... I got help from a good friend and a would-like-to-know-better-but-we-relate-online friend. :-) Viola! The dogs are great and get along well. I actually enjoy them do their thing now, too. It's cute. <br />
<br />
I started trying my hand at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macrobiotic_diet">macrobiotic</a> eating with some really great help and am enjoying it, a LOT! The food is SO good...everything I've made has been lovely. I did dream of eating at a buffet last night, though, so... I guess I'm missing some things. ;-)<br />
<br />
I proofread an ebook for a friend and I did it to avoid doing the last part of my own business. Because when I finish that last part I open up shop and can I tell you how many different fears I have!?!?!? People are going to hate the pants and tell me I suck, people are going to love the pants and prove my self-doubt wrong; no one is going to order from me for a long time and I'll lose focus, people will be ordering super fast and I won't be able to keep up with demand; parents won't like the way the thighs fit, parents will LOVE the way the thighs fit; they're too expensive, they're not priced high enough for their value.... <br />
<br />
AND ON AND ON IT GOES.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2FeRKpaIQl8/Tapn8JxrvhI/AAAAAAAAAJU/-Te8OKYthJY/s1600/106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2FeRKpaIQl8/Tapn8JxrvhI/AAAAAAAAAJU/-Te8OKYthJY/s320/106.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Anyway, I finished the ebook, which if I may tell you, is incredible!! I kept getting sucked into the content and if you've ever proofread or edited anything before, you know that's a direct way to get diddly done. ;-) I got lots done, of course, and even impressed myself with my recall skills. But it took a bit longer than it should have, because I kept READING it. I can't wait to share it with you when the Author says "GO!".<br />
<br />
My hubby got a vasectomy, because he's great and appreciates my need to get off of hormonal birth control. Yes, I know there are other options and I've tried a couple, but Paragard broke my vagina and all of its contents and condoms aren't goodness for us. Anyway, he got the procedure done and the sedation they used didn't work on him...he was aware of everything that happened and remembers it all now. We're going to keep this information in the forefront of our minds in case he ever needs full sedation. A little scary to think he might be one of those people who can't be put to sleep. So, the doctor let me watch the whole thing and it was really neat!<br />
<br />
I have avoided doing the laundry for a whole week now. Boo. I usually do it twice a week so now I've got a thing FULL of dirty clothes that I just don't want to wash. Guess I have to, huh?<br />
<br />
I babysat a puppy today and that was fun. Meanwhile another friend brought her dog to meet my dogs, because I *might* babysit hers while she goes out of town. He's a boxer. I love his face. And he acts kind of special. Awwww... <3<3<br />
<br />
I went to an improv jam last night with one of the local improv troupes. I've always been into that sort of thing and curious if I would be good at it. It looks so fun! Anyway, I saw the ad for it while Jon and I were on a date Friday night and I asked the in-laws FOR THE FIRST TIME to watch the kiddos while I did something all for me. YAY! They said yes and I went. And because it was only one day in advance I had no time to psyche myself out and choose to not go.<br />
<br />
So I went. It was in the basement of a biker bar. Those of you who've known me longer than 4 years think that's no biggie and I was right at home. Those of you who've only met me within the past 4 years think "What the hell would Shannon do in a biker bar?". Well, lemme tell you... I sat around, uncomfortably, by myself for 40 minutes or so while we waited for the downstairs to open up (there was a local BACA meeting going on before the improv jam). <br />
<br />
We made our way downstairs and when there were no more biker chicks around intimidating me I introduced myself to the other improv folks and made myself at home. We all had to get up and participate in the warm-up (I thought I'd watch for a while and decide if I wanted to join in, I was SO NERVOUS!) and it turned out to be very fun and shook the nerves right out! I had a blast.<br />
<br />
AND.<br />
<br />
I got asked to join their group!!!!!<br />
<br />
What the F!?!? I know!! I'm so crazy excited. I had a blast and to know that I was THAT good at it, to boot!?!? Wowzers. There were 5 of us there that aren't part of the troupe and I still am shocked and STOKED that *I* got asked. It's like getting a job you weren't going for, or scoring a part in a play when you didn't know you were auditioning. I'm giddy. Can you tell? :-P<br />
<br />
So, I'm trying to get childcare worked out, as it's a weekly Monday practice. The way everything else has lined up, though, I'm thinking this will work just fine. One way or another, anyway. ;-)<br />
<br />
Super, super cool. A couple of people kept making hemp references and either eyeing me or pointing at me, so after a while I just had to let everyone know that I appreciated it, but I don't smoke pot, so they could let that go. It was kind of annoying and kind of flattering.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-2151808936076514192011-04-03T13:53:00.000-07:002011-04-03T13:53:04.498-07:00Dear Mr. President,I'm breaking up with you. I've been thinking about it for several weeks now and I feel official with it at this point. While you haven't given me full disclosure, you have done a better job than many past presidents, so to show my appreciation for that I'll go ahead and explain my decision.<br />
<br />
As is the case with any messy breakup, our problems originate with expectations I held from the beginning. You see... I'm not a Democrat or a Republican. I'm not a Tea-Party member or even an Independent. <br />
<br />
I'm an American Citizen. And I vote as such. Depending on the problems-at-hand as well as moral beliefs I hold at all times I weigh my beliefs and desires and visions with those expressed by the people and amendments presented to me on my voting card. <br />
<br />
So, long ago when you said you stand for justice and peace I believed you. The way you presented yourself to us was inspiring. You were not aggressive; you rarely shamed your opponents. You seemed to come across as a man who lives(d) with integrity and I admire that. At the end of the day, I want to have a belief in my democratic leaders to be who they say they are. I held that expectation of you, sir. Which is why I am so very hurt now.<br />
<br />
I'm crushed. By your participation in the conflict in Libya. Crushed.<br />
<br />
I'll elaborate...<br />
<br />
In the last presidential election, there were a few key issues at hand. 1.Economy. 2.War in Iraq and beginning of war in Afghanistan. 3.Healthcare.<br />
<br />
No candidate was in line with how I feel on all 3 of these issues, so I had to pick what was most important to me. And it came down to War. After all, if we kill off all of our young men and women in war there will be no people who need healthcare or a job. <br />
<br />
I voted to keep people alive. I was under the impression that you wanted to streamline things in Afghanistan and get out of Iraq as quickly and safely as you could. It it my very strong belief that an airplane ride home is quick and safe, but I get it... I'm not a member of the militia and therefore don't understand the specifics of war. I don't care to, either. <br />
<br />
If it were up to me, I'd have National Guard to restore wellness to areas affected by natural environmental occurances (other people call these natural disasters, but they're no disaster to nature. They're only disastrous to us). I suppose some sort of ARMY-type military is necessary for self preservation, but I don't think they need to step a foot off of our land. After all, to defend means to protect one's self, not attack another...<br />
<br />
But, I digress.<br />
<br />
I voted for you, because your opposition, Mr. McCain was adamant on violence and his belief that it is a good way to find peace. I just don't agree with that at all and chose against war.<br />
<br />
Then you went and got in a fight.<br />
<br />
I'm not attracted to -nor do I find security in- men who fight to prove their manliness. I don't see "hero" in that behavior. I see fear. Fear of not being in control. Fear of not being safe. Fear of not being well. That fear leads to attack. It is an incredibly primitive behavior. <br />
<br />
But we're no longer primates, so can't we move on?<br />
<br />
I am ready for change. I am ready for progress within our species. But this is the same old story, just with a different "reasoning". <br />
<br />
I beg and plead to be part of a country that doesn't go blow shit up every chance we get just because we can. And I am praying, intending, and manifesting, with fervor, for leadership who will stand up for what is righteous. <br />
<br />
And in my book, righteous includes not killing, not shaming, not attacking.<br />
<br />
I just can no longer stand with you. <br />
<br />
<br />
Sadly,<br />
ShannonCORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-47119359306088054122011-04-01T20:28:00.000-07:002011-04-01T20:28:38.813-07:00About IdentityThis is my favorite thing about putting in dreadlocks:<br />
<br />
I feel like me.<br />
<br />
It's just hair, after all. So it seems silly to me, because as much as I've been "into" my hair for years, I've not been into "doing" my hair pretty much ever. <br />
<br />
I frequently see women who are living with their own sense of style that's strong and opinionated and I've held a certain amount of envy or maybe intrigue toward them for it. I see women who put together amazing outfits that when they walk into a room or they catch my eye, they're screaming "THIS IS ME" and I want it. I want to know how to express myself through my appearance. <br />
<br />
In the past -almost 2- weeks I've felt better about who I appear to be than ever before. I feel like I appear to be me and that, my friends, is a rockin new feeling I've not had before!!<br />
<br />
I've looked in the mirror frequently.<br />
I've messed with my hair multiple times every day.<br />
I've made AND POSTED videos on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/slroot06?feature=mhum">YouTube</a>.<br />
I've asked Jon to take pictures of me.<br />
I've asked my friend to take pictures of me.<br />
I've felt more confident when going in public.<br />
<br />
All because of my hair.<br />
<br />
Ha!<br />
<br />
I've heard of the "spiritual journey" of dreadlocks before and I don't get it. It's foreign to me. I think in my particular case, I was experiencing deep and profound spiritual healing in a couple aspects of my being when the night came that I started knotting my hair. I think this has been part of that spiritual path for me, having the cajones to just do what I've pondered for so long. And so I guess I'm starting to see a bit of how this could be a catalyst for things to come and I'm welcoming whatever happens with open arms.<br />
<br />
I've only had one person outwardly express their dislike of my hair and it rolled off my back pretty easily. Of course it burned for a moment, no one wants to hear that someone thinks they look stupid. But because I love-so-very-much what's happening on my head the comment didn't phase me for long.<br />
<br />
That, alone, was powerful for me. I am living what I want to be living and so someone's put-down didn't make me second-guess myself.<br />
<br />
Before a couple of weeks ago, I had never been that powerful on my own two feet.<br />
<br />
So, to the nay-sayer I truly thank you. Deeply, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to experience the confidence I did in that exchange between the two of us.<br />
<br />
To every reader that comes across this:<br />
<br />
Do something powerful, for yourself. This week. Something that makes you feel good. Feel great. Not something that makes you feel like you're "proving" yourself to anyone. Lord knows I've tried that a bazillion, gagillion times and it didn't work. But something that you do solely for you and your confidence.<br />
<br />
Then if you feel so inclined, come share it with us. ;-)CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-36161836926300974292011-03-19T20:51:00.000-07:002011-03-19T20:51:00.127-07:00Lockin her up.Dreadlocking, anyway. ;-)<br />
<br />
So here's my little story...<br />
<br />
I fell in love with dreadlocks probably the first time I saw them. I don't really know exactly when it started but as far back as my teenage years I remember loving them. I'd only seen them on a couple of black women and at the time so began my love of "black girl hair". I wanted it. I wanted locks. <br />
<br />
A few years later I started noticing locks on white people. Usually hippies. That was cool, especially since I consider myself as part of that group o' folk. But I didn't look into getting them. Because regardless of what lifestyle I did live, I certainly didn't want people judging me in all sorts of ways based upon my hair. Which is funny because I was always doing wild new things to my hair. My BFF Tori and I were dying our hair at age 12. We did all sorts of fun and wild things with our hairs. I had black hair, green hair, multicolored hair, bleached hair, orange hair, and so the story goes.<br />
<br />
Something about being judged as a pot-smoking, reggae-loving, dirty hippie just wasn't sitting well with me though.<br />
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Fast forward to February of last year: I found my first blog. Then my <a href="http://walkslowlylivewildly.com/">second</a> blog. Then my <a href="http://theorganicsister.com/">third</a> blog. I became a blog reader. It just so happened to be that 2 of my first 3 blog subscriptions belonged to women with dreadlocks. As time continued on, I found a couple <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/">other</a> <a href="http://www.slowponyhome.blogspot.com/">bloggers</a> who had dreadlocks. They all happened to be Moms. Not only moms, but Moms who are incredible Moms, who inspire me, who teach me, who help me see my failures and help me acknowledge my potential. <br />
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It was this past year that I realized there are at least 4 Moms out there who are great and wonderful and not pot-smoking, reggae-loving, dirty hippies AND they have dreadlocks.<br />
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So I started considering it. My interest wavered as I took it more seriously. After all, I LOVE my hair. Do I really want to not have it anymore? Do I want to give up its soft, silky, straight smoothness? For real?<br />
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Big questions to answer. I also asked Jon what he thought. After all, he's the only hot guy I'm spending Sexperiment month with for the rest of my live-long-life. He was honest with me and let me know it's not his favorite hair style and he is madly in love with my actual hair. BUT, that he'd rather I do it and chance not loving it than not do it and always wonder. He really is the greatest and I aim to not forget that. Ever. <br />
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Finally a couple of months ago I decided for sure that I would do it. It just so happened that blog number 2 writer moved a couple of hours from me. I emailed her to see if she'd do mine and we exchanged a quick blip about it. But neither of us followed up. And as time went on I realized I wasn't actually into driving 2 hours, sitting for 4-8 hours of hair-doing, then driving another 2 hours home. So, I let go of that idea. <br />
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I also decided they would be a reward for a weight loss goal I'd set.<br />
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I didn't hit the goal. At all. Now I've come to realize the reason for that was mainly lack of sleep and survival mode. Regardless, I couldn't do them when I was supposed to because I hadn't accomplished what I was supposed to.<br />
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Then I went to Orlando. And Christine RUBBED her hot-A dreadlocks all over my head . Okay, okay... it wasn't that elaborate... But, they touched me. And I haven't let go of their wonderfulness yet.<br />
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So last night after being impatient and looking up lots of information, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JesEGZpD3I">I just started doing them myself</a>. I thought I was going to follow up with a friend to finish off parts of the back. But after a couple locks were done I got all selfish with my bad self and decided this was between me, my head, and my commitment. I've worked on them every spare moment I've had since last night and I'm almost done! I only have a handful more to do and depending on how heavy my eyelids get I may get them done tonight.<br />
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One of the things I didn't know about locks until last night was that they don't appear right away. :-/ It takes some time for them to tighten and "lock" up. I thought I'd be pretty embarrassed out in public, after all I've never seen someone in the baby stage of dreads before. I thought about making a sign or pin that would say "What's up with this? (arrow pointing up) Dreadlocks in the making." But today we went out to eat with the in-laws (there needs to be a better word for that in our situation, cause it sounds so... courthouse-ish) and I was proud. I kept thinking "yeah, see that natty mess?? AWESOME, HUH???"<br />
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Proud. Of my little nest of hair all over my head. So excited.<br />
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For years when I see a head of locks something takes me over. I am SO INTO THEM. <br />
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And now, I'm a brand-new owner of exactly what I want.<br />
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Talk about manifestation. I'll apply that in many areas of life.<br />
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I own what I want. I am what I like. I have what I need. I love who loves me.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-48327410546816700982011-03-10T21:18:00.000-08:002011-03-11T20:33:55.974-08:00Big Fat Ooshy Gooshy Slobbery Snotty Smiling Crying Thank YouThis post is for the beautiful, wonderful, generous, talented, amazing people who donated money to the Orlando Scholarship Fund. Do you like how I put that all in caps like it was the official name of anything? I made it up. I'll give my acceptance speech for my super skills another time.<br />
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But, at this time, the spotlight is on givers. <br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I was a recipient of a scholarship and the trip was amazing. The opportunity was amazing. Your gift was amazing. There are a lot of experiences that can't be put into words. Conversations that are sealed in confidential community. Pictures that should've been taken but weren't. <br />
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This is why I'm crazy grateful. Those things that I can never fully express to you are the things that made this so life changing. But I have this thing about gift cards... <br />
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When I'm given one I like to share with the giver what I got. Not only to give them ideas about me so sometime in the future they know me more and are comfortable giving me something more personalized but also because sometimes a gift card IS personalized and I want to share with them what they bought me.<br />
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So since you gave me a "gift card", I'd like to take some time and tell you the things I did get that I CAN express without a dumbfounded "uh, uh, uh" followed by tears.<br />
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I got the chance to sleep. A lot. I didn't take that chance, though. I was too busy spending HOURS with awesome women. Talking. Sharing. Smiling. Laughing. Encouraging. Complimenting. But, I also got the chance to not be under pressure to stay calm during chaos, to not feed anyone other than myself and during communal meal preparation there were people in the kitchen WITH me not just asking for nibbles. I got to relish in my exhaustion for what it was and why I had it. I got to enjoy being tired. {GASP}<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to sit by a pool and meet cool people. Every.one.there.had.a.story. I didn't get to hear half of them. But the ones I did hear were touching. Do you know how often *I* get to sit by a pool and anything?? Not often. This was great. Good fun. Relaxing to the maxing. Awesome.<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to swim in the pool at 3am because I couldn't fall asleep. I'll tell you what... The best treatment for insomnia has nothing to do with pills, or even meditation which I'm actually a fan of. No way, Jose! The best treatment is a midnight swim in warm water, surrounded by warm air and the chirping of crickets. I guess it's a crummy treatment, actually, because I didn't get to bed any sooner and still had a bit of trouble when I got to my bed, but I enjoyed my insomnia, immensely!<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to babysit drunk women. And they weren't the annoying kind, either. They were the really cute and funny kind. The kind of drunk people that were only drunk in the middle of the day because any other time in their lives they can't be. They were all happy drunks. No one got angry. No one even got sappy. Just plain old happy. I'm a non-drinker myself and I can't tell you how many types of drunks there are. But I enjoyed helping these happy drunk people get to other happy drunk people at a variety of houses. And no one even peed on me. And no one threw up. It was goodness.<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to run a 5k. I've not been a runner at any point in my life. I've gained more weight over the past year than ever before in my life. But when I heard about a 5k I got excited. And I started running a little bit at a time. Running my first 5k on such an incredible trip with insanely awesome women seemed like an empowering thing that I had one opportunity to have. And I did it, dammit! And it was HOT. See, I've been running at home, but we're talking 20 degrees or lower. Everyone told me it'd be easy down there because of the low altitude. They're liars. Bahahahaha! But, really. They were wrong. The air was so heavy with moisture it took entirely too long to open my lungs to the bottom. I struggled a lot with my breathing. Once I finally got it I was okay, but again... too long. And the heat... Oh my the HEAT! Even at 10am. I have no idea what the actual temperature was, but it was hot. My head pounded, my neck ached. The heat.<br />
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So, when I came around the last bend in the road and I saw the finish line and I saw the UPHILL (Corey, I thought you loved us, but....) all the way there I knew I had two choices. I could jog up that hill and feel the brute force of gravity working against me the whole way. OR I could slam that sh*t! And that's what I did, friends. I sprinted up that hill and the ONLY thing that was going to stop me was the finish line tape that two totally hot girls held for me. Right before the end all the emotion tied into "I can do this" and tons of other emotion that I can't even target came rushing up and I finished that 5k, having not taken one walking step, feeling INCREDIBLE! It was every empowering, feminine, beautiful feeling I thought it would be. Oh, and then some.<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to go to the coolest restaurant I've ever seen in my life. There was yelling and "Opa"ing and dancing and eating and drinking and photo taking and finally, crying. I can't even begin to explain the restaurant without drowning out its awesomeness with descriptive words that leave experience behind, but I can tell you that my theme for the evening definitely became "When I grow up I'm going to be Greek". And, yes, I understand I can't "be" Greek. But, in my little world of wonderfulness around that night, I can. <br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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Speaking of which... the crying. There wasn't much for me. You see, I'm still pretty guarded I guess. But I didn't even figure that out until I came home. Sunday morning I was thinking though and wondering if something was wrong with me. After all, every blog post I'd read from the Original Nine said there would be lots of crying. And I hadn't cried a tear. But, at dinner. I cried. I was telling the same story I'd told several times through the weekend. But I was telling it to someone different. And I was telling it one-on-one, which I hadn't done before. And the beautiful, wonderful goddess who I was telling it to had her heart open wide for me. And mine finally opened up to feel the story and experience the story and tell the story. And it was bliss. Not because I cried. But because I had found someone that I *could* cry to. It didn't last long and there was no snot or hyperventilating (don't you tell me you don't know what kind of crying I'm talking about). But it was monumental.<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to get Christine's sexy dreads all over the side of my head. Twice! I have dread jealousy. I had planned on getting them for a weight loss goal reward. But the weight loss didn't happen. But, now that they touched me. Hmm. They're damn inevitable. <br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to meet "<a href="http://lisajordanpuddin.blogspot.com/">famous</a>" <a href="http://www.storinguptreasures.com/">bloggers</a> that I didn't even know were famous, because I only read about 3 blogs on a regular basis. Now that I've fallen in love with so many people, my blog reading time will definitely go up while my Hulu watching time will go down. <br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to ride on some random dude's "motorcycle" (crotch rocket, cough, cough). I guess it was the beginning of bike week and there was a house full of 'em. And one morning while walking around lost and confused with 2 other awesome ladies we walked by the "motorcycle" (crotch rocket, cough, cough) house. So, I walked up to them (there were a couple of them outside looking at their bikes or whatever they do when they stand around them) and I said, "Hi. I'm on a Mom's retreat. The boss lady said that the only rule is that you do what you want, when you want and right now I want a ride on a bike. Would you be willing to help me out with that?" He kindly obliged, my friends took mental note of their house address in case I went missing, and he took me on a very slow ride around a couple of blocks. Of course, I was still lost and didn't know where my house was so he dropped me back off with my ladies and we carried on trying to find our yellow brick road.<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I got to meet two women whose presences are full of so much grace I could hardly handle it. I love them. My only regret from the weekend is not spending more down time at our house talking with them. They are more beautiful than your eyes can handle, so put on sunglasses and have someone else read you their names and you still might end up with retina burns. <a href="http://waldenbunch.blogspot.com/">Marty</a> and Brenda. Beautiful.<br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.<br />
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I'm on a roll and could keep going, but there must be an end or Corey might not ever link to this post so you can read my Thank You. Speaking of Corey... I GOT TO MEET COREY and she's more fabulous than anything you could've ever thought up. People flock to her for a reason. I'm madly in love with her now. Because you donated money, I got to meet her awesomeness. <br />
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-81879204892842090482011-02-14T21:50:00.000-08:002011-02-14T21:50:37.684-08:00You know what's been happening?A lot. Has happened.<br />
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Backtrack... I said peace out to 2010. Then, I started working out. No, I'm not a January gym-fly. Here's how this beauty arrived in my lap (many thanks to Universe for always providing). My in-laws got this Groupon deal for a 5 week program with this thing called <a href="http://www.fitbodybootcamp.com/bootcamp/colorado-springs-fit-body-boot-camp.html">Fit Body Boot Camp</a>. My MommaRoot's back started giving her problems and so she didn't feel it was safe or good timing to go. So, my PapaRoot asked me if I wanted her Groupon. After teasing him a bit about why I would NEED that I gladly accepted. Not knowing anything about what I was getting into, except that it has "boot camp" in the name. We had to go to an orientation to start out safely and understand what to expect and such. In the email it said something about taking "before" pictures and to bring a swimsuit. Enter: anxiety. Really? Swimsuit with my PapaRoot? Much love to my family, but ya know... some things are just a bit uncomfortable. :-/ I threw it in my purse and figured I'd opt out if it was public and opt in if it were private. On the way there, with all his brilliance, PapaRoot points out that allowing someone else your pictures before you know if you believe in what they do is kinda'...eh...iffy.<br />
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Now I can't stop talking about how awesome this is! Irony... I'd give them my picture in half a second if it let them help another person feel as good as it is helping me to feel. I don't think I've lost any weight. I haven't followed the nutrition plan very well at all, because I have super sugar issues. But I have added lots of protein to my days and increased my fish oil intake 3-fold. Again, my pants are just as tight as they were in December. But, I FEEL GREAT! Today, I even did a push up. A full push up. This has been a goal of mine for a couple of years and here it is. Last week we did the same exercises we did today and I was moaning and groaning and throwing a darn fit during the last push up hold. Guess that weak, lazy, Shannon was dying. Cause today, I brought the heat. THEN, felt so inspired to try to do a full push up hours after boot camp. AND I DID IT!!!!!<br />
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Please, clap louder! I'll take it! I feel like a rockstar. From ONE push up. Corny website, but amazing workouts! I also lucked out with a great trainer. No intimidating body builder ego dude here. Just a dude who knows his stuff and knows how to motivate people (like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Follow_the_Leader_(Korn_album)">Korn from the 90's</a>) :-)<br />
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Right smack in the middle of my 5 week trial, one of my wisdom teeth got infected. I've been avoiding getting these bad boys out for a couple of years. Initially because I was terrified of anesthesia, then because I was scared of dry socket and I smoked and I knew I wouldn't go several days without smoking. Then, I went back again in November (after having emergency surgery last summer I knew the anesthesia was okay and I quit smoking a year and a half ago) to do another consult and make a plan. Eh, our copay was just under $300 and part of the root of one of my bottoms was in the nerve and I was nervous of nerve damage. So, I avoided it again.<br />
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Apparently my mouth gave me the finger, because that infection hurt more than anything I've ever experienced before (in fact, I'm planning/hoping/thinking of a post JUST about that pain and why women NEED to childbirth naturally). I called the oral surgeon with a quickness, begged for antibiotics (okay they gave them to me right away with no problem) and made an appointment to deal with my fear. We didn't have the money, but I knew and had the utmost faith in Universe and I made the date for just a few days away. I borrowed some money from my sister for the first time ever. Please allow me to express to you the humiliation involved in that!?!? And between what she loaned us and the available credit on two cards we managed. I called the day before surgery and paid over the phone because the idea of paying with three separate credit cards in front of others was just too much for me.<br />
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Speaking of which, did you watch Sex and The City? The show... There's an episode where Carrie is talking about being broke and having stress with money, but you know she has this shoe fetish. So, she used multiple cards to pay for some new Manolos. I just kept telling myself, I'm going into debt for my health, NOT SHOES! Thank you, SATC, for helping me get through that!<br />
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Anyway, I got the darn teeth out, was higher than I've been since I was in my early twenties, and I.GOT.DRY.SOCKET in two holes!!! WTF!? What are the darn chances? Ugh. It was a couple weeks of hell. Pain, hopelessness, no energy, crappy soft food, not doing things with my kids, poor sleep, etc. Just rough. So glad that's done!<br />
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</div>My birthday came and went (mid-wisdom-tooth issues). I was supposed to fly a plane on my birthday, but couldn't because my teeth were ill and I was on narcotics. <br />
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Zane and I painted the majority of his room blue. I fought my OC stuff while that happened and talked myself down from the ledge each time I wanted to show him how to do it "right" and instead allowed him to have fun painting his own room. Well, the first day anyway. The second day he was swinging the roller around, not watching where he was walking, and generally bored. That day wasn't as fun. :-( Next up, planets and light sabers. I'm really stoked about doing his room. I did Stori's quite a while ago, but have been trying to find the right thing for Zane's and he came up with this idea that I have the ability to pull off. Whew!<br />
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Lastly, Jon and I have been having fun with <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/2011/02/sexperiment-2011.html">Sexperiment 2011</a>!! Oh my. Today is day 5 and there's been one day where it was a push to make it happen. And it wasn't something I was excited to do. But, you know... when the show begins the fun begins as well. It's been a fun experience for us. To make ourselves carve out time every day. This is a trial for any marriage. But, Jon and I live on opposite time schedules and we've managed. Even if it did mean some nail polish on our toddler and our bathroom floor...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> We got the job done! </div><br />
Such goodness and there's still time this month for you to join in! You really should! <br />
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That's a small portion of the BIG things that've happened in the last month and a half. Of course there's plenty more, but I've got to get off the computer and on with life, as Jon'll be home from work in under an hour and, well, day 5 isn't done yet! ;-) <br />
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I'll leave you with my "gettin' ready" music for tonight. Maybe it'll inspire you to go "gettin' busy"<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XooQyuVRUUA">These boys got me going when I was just starting to "get going"</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNXSts4ptbE">More.Hanson.Mmmm.</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjykrjAS5bQ">Every time Jon sings this song, blood flows to important places</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnnMZ1xrL7E">For slow, smooth Sunday Mornings</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5EnGwXV_Pg">Discover each other.</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKPoHgKcqag">You ever seen a 9 month pregnant woman and her husband "get down" to this song during a wedding </a><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKPoHgKcqag">reception? Bummer, shoulda' been there!</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHff55AeEAQ">Yes, please</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdPv8T7iuKM">We fit well</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWGqoCNbsvM&feature=related">Still get giddy</a>CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-62615450070835513172010-12-31T17:20:00.000-08:002010-12-31T17:20:55.448-08:00Peace out first decade of 2000It's been real, as I say. :-) 10 years since everyone was convinced the numbers wouldn't switch over on computers and thus would begin the spontaneous combustion of all living things on planet earth. I'm willing to bet people still have bottles of water from 1999.<br />
<br />
In ten years, I've graduated from high school, road tripped across the country, had my car stolen, found a whole new way of living, got my stolen car back, got knocked up, graduated massage school, found yoga, drank too much, went on a self-discovering binge, moved to colorado, fell madly in love, broke a couple hearts, kicked ass in a "real" job, stopped drinking, had a baby, stopped working, started home schooling.<br />
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Those are just the big highlights. Fortunate me. I've spent most of these past ten years with Zane, who has helped me grow up, pretty much at the same rate as him. Fortunate him.<br />
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The past year, alone, has brought wonderful things my way. I've done a lot of healing on my heart and that's been a little tiring, but I like it! I've learned to cook better than ever before. Learned more about food than ever before. I've started the back-end work on a business. I've worked on a PTA and got nominated for a board position, which I turned down. I've forgiven people and decided to not forgive others. I've carried guilt and I've released habits. I've "met" Moms all over the country online who I adore and who teach me more than my Mom did. I thanked the Moms from my childhood and adolescence. I quit breastfeeding. Forever. I shared my views. I worked on empathy and communication with others. I managed a budget. I did not manage my relationship with food. I quit drinking coke. I learned to ski-ish. <br />
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Lots and lots of things. A good year, it has been.<br />
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I asked Zane what were his favorite things of 2010 and he wrote a list. IT is on paper, but I'll put it here for you. I was surprised at what he put. I thought there would be big, monumental things. But, I love his everyday sense of simplicity. It is as follows: fun, snow, rain, sun, toys, legos, cars, figures, toy station, mcdonald's, walmart, illinois, science center<br />
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<3<3<br />
<br />
I asked Stori the same question and she said: Happy Birthday. I said, "anything else?" She said: Happy Birthday. Seeing as this has been the theme for a couple of weeks now, I find it fitting. She learned the joy of birthday and she learned to sing Happy Birthday. I say that fits. :-)<br />
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I'm off now, to play with my kids and enjoy some shrimp that didn't come from China! :-D<br />
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I hope all the best for us, and you, in 2011. Here's getting off to a good start!!CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-44930560100958299352010-12-19T23:20:00.000-08:002010-12-19T23:24:05.407-08:00Hyperparenting SuccessI read <a href="http://zenhabits.net/how-to-let-go-of-hyperparenting-and-learn-to-relax-with-your-kids/">this</a> a few days ago and was just giddy with excitement while reading. Why? Because we've been working our tails off on being more loving and less controlling over the last couple of years. And we never saw a post like this ahead of time. And I felt PROUD. After posting it for my friends to see on Facebook, I realized that this is cause for celebration. Jon and I have rocked it. We still have lots more to go, but we've done great in recreating our parenting and our kids' lives. <br />
<br />
So, I decided I'd come here and put it down on "blogger paper" what we've done. No need to wait anymore, I'll go right along with the aspects of that article that we've succeeded on.<br />
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<b>1. When you get angry, pick them up and hug them.</b><br />
I used to yell a LOT when I was angry at Zane. I really got tired of hearing my own voice so I started on this habit. I still yell and am not done with this, but I'm better than ever. Often when I am angry and I want to yell I'll whisper instead. Or, I'll sing some ridiculous song. Or, I'll do a dance. Or, if I'm just THAT angry I'll walk away. When I'm angry at Stori and I begin to lash out I see it right away and I do pick her up and hug her or hold her. When I see it in Zane I either hug him or do something goofy with him.<br />
<br />
Through doing this I've realized that most of the time I'm angry at them because they want something different than me and ::stomps foot:: I want it MY way, damnit! Should I really yell at my kids because I'm not getting things my way? Um, no. Glad to be stopping this one and so proud of the steps I've taken thus far. I won't stop until it is my nature to hug, love, and listen rather than yell.<br />
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<b>2. Make this your mantra: treat them with kindness; treat them with respect.</b><br />
Sometimes we really like to indulge in a Hot & Ready from Little Caesars. It's cheap and easy and yummy in that gross-yummy way. We always get Pepperoni because we figure if it's the same price then get the one with the most flavor and extra topping. Zane always wants cheese. We always tell him he can pick the pepperonis off and then he'll have cheese. He always tells us it's not the same. He always accepts our refusal respectfully and always voices his opinion respectfully. We always ignore his desires for ours, disrespectfully. <br />
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I don't know what it was that hit me a few weeks ago when I stopped by to get one, but in the moment I was walking in the door to buy one I saw the situation as it really is; as I explained it to you above. What arrogant assholes we've been, really. Because what we want is more important than what he wants? I got a cheese and walked through our home door with it as excited as a schoolboy the day after Christmas break. I was THRILLED to show him a cheese pizza and he was THRILLED to get it. He feverishly thanked me and enjoyed that pizza so much. I told him it wasn't fair what we've been doing and that I was sorry for that and that sometimes we'll get pepperoni and sometimes we'll get cheese. He enjoyed hearing that and I enjoyed saying it.<br />
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I could fool myself all day long with excuses as to why we should get pepperoni instead of cheese, but what it comes down to when I'm getting real with myself is that it's not about a topping. It's about control. I want to be in control of the pizza because I'm the adult and this is my break from cooking, damnit. Jon wants to be in control of the pizza because he worked for the money for the pizza and he wants pepperoni, damnit. But, we don't really need to be in control of the fucking pizza, we need to be in control of ourselves because we wanted the children and we'll take them ANY day over a freakin piece of fake-ass meat. 'Scuse my cussing, but when I looked at what was really going on I got mad. It's not okay for our childrens' opinions to be less important than ours just because we CAN control what we're doing. For a very, very long time Jon and I told Zane "screw your opinion kid, take off that pepperoni and while you're at it lose the cheese you wanted too, cause it sticks to the meat anyway!" And that's simply not the message I want to send to him. Over a $5 crummy old pizza.<br />
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<b>3. Drop your expectations of the child.</b><br />
Zane has a funky sense of style. So does Jon. So when Zane gets dressed there will often be one-piece footy pajamas under shorts with a shirt (or sometimes not) over it. Of course he also squeezes his feet into flip flops (remember, footy pajamas...). He's also not a fan of haircuts and sometimes he picks wild styles (like when he shaved the left side of his head but left the right side long). When Jon gets Stori dressed there'll usually be a tank top and capris in winter or ya' know... stripes on a shirt and pants with boots or something wild. And he's REALLY CONVINCED it's SUPER CUTE! <br />
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It used to ruffle my feathers and I'd change Stori's clothes or I'd beg Zane to change (I never have MADE him change, as I've always believed he should have the freedom to wear what he wants and it's his hair, not mine). I'd tell Zane how ridiculous he looks or how uncomfortable he'll be. In general, I'd tell Zane that he made a bad choice and that he would feel terrible about it if he didn't change that choice. That's a kicker for some good old fashioned self-esteem issues! Now, when he wears craziness I breathe and recognize this is his outfit and his choice and if he thinks it looks great then who am I to tell him different? I let it be. Sometimes, if I'm in a particularly controlling mood it will get me annoyed and I'll say something but when I do I hear it coming from my mouth and I always retaliate (against myself) with "It's your outfit, not mine". Also, I've found a love for Jon's method of getting Stori dressed and for Father's Day I dressed Stori the way Jon would have just to celebrate his Dad-awesomeness! Oh boy, how I appreciate my husband being an active guy who doesn't mind trying to figure out skirts for our daughter and letting me off the hook of dressing people all the time.<br />
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While writing this one, I thought of something fun. Since I went to the post office the other day in teal pajama pants, a pink shirt, a green-and-white-striped sweater, and my aqua <a href="http://www.vibramfivefingers.com/">vibrams</a> obviously I have an appreciation for <a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/">flair</a>. So, I think next time I'm in one of those controlling moods and he's wearing something that drives me bonkers I'll just march downstairs and wear and equally exciting outfit. That'll show me!<br />
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<b>4. Let her play, let her explore.</b><br />
Thankfully, this is one I've always has a pretty good handle on. I'm not one to condemn my kiddos to a life of misery-based reactions every time they want to do something challenging. "Don't climb that honey, you'll fall down." "Spinning's not good for you, don't try it." "Come inside; the world is full of molesters." These things have never slipped off my tongue. But, I do think there's room for improvement everywhere. I've been known to say, "You've fallen 13 times in the last hour, just stop trying." or "Why do you keep doing that?" or, my worst!! "What's wrong with you?" All these things I've said have been out of love, of course. I don't want Stori to fall anymore, I'm frustrated with non-stop comforting a frustrated small person, I want to know what's wrong when someone's upset. But the reality I'm creating for my kids with these statements is "You're not good enough" "You won't learn" "Something is wrong with you"<br />
<br />
That's not what I want my kids to live. These slips are getting fewer and farther between, but they still happen and I want to be the "I've gotcha' if you need me" "Practice makes better" "How can I help?" Mom. Because I think the more I instill that in them the more faith they'll have in me later in life when they've hit a tough spot. I hope.<br />
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<b>5. Say yes, or some version of yes.</b><br />
This doesn't mean become a martyr for my kids and do what they say when they say and make sure I jump as high as they want me to. Jon and I were very, VERY "no" oriented. It was our gut instinct. Anytime a question was asked we said "no" and then thought about if we should change our minds. Not only did this set the tone that when we say no it doesn't actually mean no (which we're still coming back from), but I think now that this fosters a lack of self belief for our kids. I mean really. Think about it. Almost anything Zane said he wanted or asked for we said no to. Our immediate reaction to him was always something negative. It was always denial. How would he be able to feel confident in his own thoughts, feelings, beliefs, desires, anything? He's always hearing "no" which means, "You're wrong". <br />
<br />
Oops.<br />
<br />
I've super-improved here and recognized how many nos don't need to be nos at all. And how much I was controlling him by saying no when I shot him down a lot on great ideas or perfectly acceptable questions. I even said YES to ice cream for breakfast the other day! GAASSPP!!!! But, they each got a small scoop of ice cream and while they were eating it they were able to find more healthful answers to my original question "What do you want for breakfast?". So, after their couple tablespoons worth of ice cream we had oatmeal(real oats, not from an envelope, ya' know... we eat THAT stuff!) and bacon. You wouldn't have guessed it though, because all those kids remembered about breakfast was MOM GAVE US ICE CREAM!!! So, what's in their heads now? Mom said yes and did something fun that she hadn't done before. What's in mine? I gave them a little and then got what I wanted as well, which was their bellies full of good food. But oatmeal is a distant thought in their minds. It's cuteness, really!<br />
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<b>6. Stop trying to overeducate, and get out of the way.</b><br />
Also, not a big one for me. I think because I grew up legitimately neglected and am pretty stinkin smart I just have faith in a person's ability to learn. I've not had to do much on this one and thankfully so. Jon has though, but I'm not speaking for him. Maybe someday he'll come post on here. We'll see.<br />
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<b>7. Just focus on making the next interaction with them positive.</b><br />
I've spent DAYS worth of time saying, "hold on... wait a minute... not now... what do you need now?" This is my biggest struggle right now, in fact. I want my kids' experiences with me to be remembered as when they wanted me or needed me I supported them or stopped for them. I'm struggling with this one daily and while I do make sure to have happy, positive time with them daily I get tired of the same books over and over again and the same legos over and over again. If YOU have any tips for me and my readers in this area please, please post them below! I love them so very very much, but I'm pretty sure they'll have lots of memories of waiting around for me to "finish this" or "do this". And, blech! I don't want it. I know where this stems, which is my being selfish and wanting my agenda to be top priority, I get that. I see the undertone. But, I need help in changing it. Thanks!!<br />
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<b>8. Take a moment to pause and see things from your child's perspective.</b><br />
<b></b>"Sit down quietly and wait for your food" i a great way to get kids yelling and crying at a table in a restaurant. Jon and I downright STOPPED eating out several years ago because we were SO TIRED of the fits Zane would throw just because we wanted him to sit down and wait quietly. Crayons and papers didn't work, trains didn't work, our phones didn't work. The kid HATES sitting down to wait. He hates it. And we hated fighting and threatening and scolding. So we stopped. Then I remembered something I learned from my home economics teacher in high school. **If a child wants to play puppies under the table why not?** Gut reaction: "Cause it's dirty under the table and it annoys me when my kids aren't acting civilized." Their floor is probably no dirtier than yours, in fact it's probably cleaner. I know I mop my floors once per week and each time I've worked in a restaurant we mopped our floors twice a day. So, that's B.S.<br />
<br />
Than I had to get real with myself. I want my kids to act civilized. "I don't want to be 'embarrassed' by their childish behavior." Sorry, what's that? "I don't want to be embarrassed by my CHILD's CHILDISH behavior." Oh, ok. You want a grown up at the table with you? Great, go to dinner with Jon, weirdo. If you want your child at dinner with you then guess what? You'll have your CHILD at dinner with you, acting CHILDISHLY. Oh, ok. Thanks, me! So now, I'm totally the lady who's kids crawl under the table while waiting for food or waiting for a check. And I giggle the whole time I hear another lady fighting her kids during their screaming fit cause they're supposed to be not acting childish. It took me a while to get used used to having my legs knocked into every now and then because at first each time it happened it angered me to know that "my kid wouldn't behave" but in time it's become a reminder that "my kid's not screaming their face off at me and I'm holding a conversation with my husband". WIN!<br />
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Children are children and we are helping them grown into well-adjusted adults. I think the more we can help foster their childish behavior while they're children the more likely they won't throw fits over pepperoni (see #1 and #2, I'm talking about myself here) as adults. They get to get their childhood now so they aren't fighting for it later. I hope. I know a LOT of selfish adults who throw fits and I've yet to meet one adult who was allowed to crawl under the table. I'll let you know how this pans out later. (Gimme a decade or so, k?)<br />
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<b>9. If the kid is "acting up", try to figure out why, and meet that need.</b><br />
Zane used to throw big fits and we'd throw equally big fits, fighting a non-stop battle of the time-out chair. He'd pour chocolate into the gallon of milk, he'd sneak goodies out of the cupboards when we were sleeping. We'd yell, we'd fight him, we'd punish him, we'd do all the things we were "supposed" to do. Hell, we even spanked him! A lot. That's all anyone could advise us to do. <br />
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I started this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/christinemoers">therapeutic parenting stuff</a> over the summer, after recognizing that Zane had every.single.presentation of Reactive Attachment Disorder. That's when I was introduced to this whole idea of asking your child what's up when they're all kinds of outta whack. I've been BLOWN.A-WAY. since. I can smell it now, before it gets too bad. I know when they're "off" and it's almost always because they want one-on-one with me. Which, Stori can verbalize but Zane cannot, ironically enough. Probably because I spent a few years teaching Zane to shut it and Stori hasn't gotten that. When I feel them getting frenzied (which is what happens before misbehavior, by the way... really. Take a moment and notice it, it's like CLOCK WORK, people!) I can stop whatever I'm doing and we can play hide and seek or we can get a game from the shelf or we can sit with a book and them literally sitting ON me or we can jump into some other form of one-on-one play and I engage until they're bored and the rest of our day is swell. I suppose as they both grow it won't always be time-with-me they need and I'll learn their new languages as they evolve but for the time being this has changed our lives in extraordinary ways. <br />
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I still need serious improvement in doing this when we're with other people. I'm selfish-ish and I want to have my conversations, ya' know. I want to visit with people. But, I'm working on stopping in all situations to feed them. Make a love deposit (Oh, the Michael Scott in me is screaming... "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!!") to their little hearts and let them know that if they need me I am here. Even if I really, really want to be doing something else.<br />
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<b>10. The kid is already perfect as he is.</b><br />
Done. Nuff said. Get it. Learn it. Live it. Love it. They are perfect!<br />
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<br />
LONGEST BLOG POST EVER.<br />
I'm proud of myself. I'm proud of Jon. I'm proud of our kids. I'm grateful to have the family I have. SO incredibly GRATEFUL!<br />
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***Again, I want to point out that these numbers and the bold sentences behind them come from <a href="http://zenhabits.net/how-to-let-go-of-hyperparenting-and-learn-to-relax-with-your-kids/">this post</a> and they are not my words. They touched me deeply and helped me remember to celebrate our accomplishments but I, in no way, take credit for them. That all goes to Leo Babauta.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-52751336579292332442010-11-14T20:46:00.000-08:002010-11-14T20:46:27.084-08:00CompanionshipI'm anxiously awaiting Jon's arrival home from work. I almost always look forward to seeing him, but sometimes I NEED him to come home and hold me while I sob. He truly is my knight in shining armor. It's unbelievably common for RAD to cause big marriage problems. There are numerous reasons, for sure. But there's one that's interesting which is that a lot of RAD kids show most of their RAD behaviors to their Moms only. They put on a big fat act for their Dads and keep their anger for their Moms. Most RAD anger is for Moms. <br />
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I believe that's because at the heart of RAD is a hurt child, a fetus, an infant, a toddler. No matter how progressive we become in this world it will always be the case that a child begins as part of their Mom. Which means it lies at the very first cell of who we become that our Mothers will provide for us, care for us, rock us, love us, nurture us, protect us, sympathize for us and empathize with us, fight for us, and flight with us. We "are" our Moms. So when something traumatic happens to a child (that plays a part in the future of RAD) it is beyond their control that they believe it's because their Mom screwed them over. Their Mom didn't provide, care, rock, love, nurture, protect, sympathize and empathize, fight for, or fly with. Their Mom failed them. And the only reason is because THEY aren't worthy of their Mom's said duties. Or, well, that's what is <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/2010/06/shame-is-four-letter-word.html">ingrained in them anyway</a>.<br />
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Fortunately(????) for Jon and I a portion of Zane's experiences was his dad (I use lower-case this time, cause this guy lost the privilege of the upper-case, but like my own mom) disappearing. This is fortunate only because Zane doesn't really hide any of his behaviors from Jon. He's just as insecure with a Dad's love as he is with a Mom's. Why does this matter? Well, because this is a very lonely life. That doesn't even begin to sum it up. Zane occasionally acts out in front of others, indeed. But, he doesn't bring out his RAD behaviors. He saves those for us. Cause we're the ones he wants to trust so badly. But, because he doesn't hide this from Jon I do have a partner here. Someone who really understands what it's like. Adequately expressed <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/2010/07/were-learning-how-to-love-each-other.html">here</a>, we need others that we can speak with and who get us. This little community I've found online isn't much, but it is growing as I get to read other blogs and "meet" other people. But, it's nothing like having someone come home and know what you mean when you say what you've experienced. <br />
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That's why I'm looking so forward to <a href="http://www.watchingthewaters.com/2010/11/110-days-till-orlando.html">ORLANDO</a>!!! This was a big decision for me to make. It's a super financial commitment that I'm still not quite sure how we'll pay for, but thanks to some absolutely beautiful and wonderful readers, I've been awarded a scholarship for my room and board and meals. Which means I have to get there and back, that's it! I don't drink so I don't have to find alcohol money and as much as some time in the spa sounds great that's just not on my plate right now. <br />
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I'm a little nervous about probably being the only biological RAD Mom there but I also look forward to sharing information and experiences with everyone. I'm not even sure if I'll pack real clothes. I *might* just hang out in pajama-esque pants the whole time. I might not even brush my hair. I told Jon the other night while discussing my concern that I look forward to being with other Moms who know what revenge pee is. :-) Cause I really do. I look forward to not feeling alone for a few days. I look forward to meeting other Moms who probably spend a lot of time crying until their whole face is swollen as well. I look forward to meeting others who know the turbulence of our life. <br />
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Until then, though, I'll be seeking out some support in my physical life. I've been on the search for attachment therapists who are covered by our insurance and so far, no luck. There's even a RAD specialist RIGHT HERE in our town. But, nope... Not covered. I'll be calling tomorrow to see if he makes arrangements for families who aren't covered. I feel like things have been escalating here and that we could do some powerful healing with all of this, but as much as I've learned I still feel like I don't know diddly. It's funny... We've spent 4 years in therapy with Zane and because we weren't treating the right cause we've made no progress. Now we know. We actually know. And, it just so happens to be a non-covered illness because it's not life-threatening. Bologna! I'm completely against this Obamacare thing, because I think it was poorly created, but I'm 100% for legitimate Universal Healthcare for this very reason. When someone needs care and there is a provider who can help access should be granted to that help. And, I get it... we can pay out of pocket, certainly. But... healthcare's not set up that way, so it's really an unfair argument. <br />
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I digress... What I mean is that I've got to get more community here that understands us and our lives. I LOVE LOVE LOVE my friends, indeed. But I don't have anyone I can call and say, "Come spend the day with us, please. We need the company." And that's what I'm looking for. For all of us. Jon's in need, too. Of a RAD Dad. I haven't found any. Maybe I should go looking.... And then he can come home and hold me and hear me and understand me.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-17024640384871024412010-11-10T21:39:00.000-08:002010-11-10T21:39:07.276-08:00HandlingI'm currently handling things. You know those times when you can only say you're "dealing with things" because you feel like you're sludging through quicksand wearing swimming flippers and your bikini bottoms are on backward when you have no business wearing a bikini in the first place? <br />
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That perfectly describes the past few weeks for me and my relationship with Zane. It has been hell. I've been so angry that I've lost all touch with what I'm supposed to be doing. I begrudgingly cuddle him every night and read him stories. I do the things for him that I'm supposed to do but I'm just going through the motions. All along I'm mad at him and I'm on the edge of a cliff that doesn't even hang over water, for goodness sakes. And when I'm not actively mad at him, but I'm back in the place of compassion and understanding I'm mad at God for doing this to us.<br />
<br />
I've been known to cry out to God pleading for an answer to my big, fat, overwhelming, omnipresent<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">"WHY!?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><br />
</span><br />
I've yet to get a real answer, but when I back away from the ledge and I come back to reality and I stop feeling so damn sorry for myself I recognize some answers to the why. <br />
<br />
Like:<br />
<br />
A lot of parents would see him as a bad kid and add to the damage with brutality. Jon and I are willing, if not eager, to learn what we can about how to best help him. We're open to nearly anything that will heal his heart and we're really determined to never give up. We definitely have our days of fear that we'll be visiting our adult Zane in jail, but most of our days are ones with faith that he is going to be nurtured and loved through this and he will find a way to be healthfully loving and loved. We currently play <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFvelHlN9Rw">this</a> for him nightly, both while we cuddle him and for the rest of the night, on repeat. We reinforce the positive statements by saying them to him along with the lady. Because we really do believe in him. We just fear some of the possibilities.<br />
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I have a really, really troubled background. My parents have failed me across the board in numerous ways and Jon is downright amazed at how "healthy" I am, given where I come from. Frankly, if Zane hadn't started presenting symptoms of RAD years before we knew what it was I don't know how invested I would be in putting an absolute, 100% end to the legacy of abusive and neglectful women in my family. But, because I've watched Zane hurt and I've seen him struggle -and reach out for what hes most afraid of even though he usually fights it as soon as he gets it- I know, firsthand, how much having someone's unconditional love can heal that. And the love I have for Zane is immeasurable. I have experienced immense pain by being his Mom. Things I could never explain to you, because the layers of the actions are just too complicated to write down. And, I don't love him because of that. I don't love him in spite of it. I love him because I see what's really going on. He's SCARED TO BE LOVED. A crazy concept to most, but it is exactly that and the more I push to remind myself of that the more I can offer him in terms of absolute, unconditional love.<br />
<br />
This has allowed me to see my own behaviors that directly related to my lack of attachment with my Mom. Thankfully, things never progressed or whatnot to the degree of RAD, but I had a very different first few years than Zane. Regardless, however, I've seen how easily I can detach when I'm getting close and I see how I can be cold and feel entitled and be afraid of those closest to us. I see how I can push people away who are here to help, because I'm quite certain that the more they get to know about our family the more they will be repulsed. And, it's all in my head, as it is in Zane's. As <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/">Christine</a> has said before... raising kids with trauma will force you to deal with ANY shit you have been holding onto yourself. She knows what she's talking about, cause it sure does! I appreciate the opportunity God has given me to see my own shit and to deal with it. It may cause big anxiety sometimes and it may be extremely uncomfortable but I don't want 20 more years to pass and be in a separate place from my own feelings. I don't want to be miserable with myself and not even know why because I never spent the time to figure it out. I don't want to be stagnant.<br />
<br />
So, sure.. there are some extravagant "why"s that have been answered, but when my heart is feeling like it's dying inside it's easy to fall in the trap of believing I'm doing it all wrong and I'm not helping him and I'm not a good Therapeutic Parent and I should just go away and he'd be better off. But, alas... that's me dealing with my own shit and that's my traumatized heart dying and providing room for my healthy heart to grow. Growth hurts.<br />
<br />
So, during these past few weeks because I've allowed myself to lose sight of the positives in our lives and the change that is happening in our house I've not been doing what I should be doing. I've only been able to really help Zane out of his big feelings a few times and I've yelled more than I'd like to admit. I AM SUPPOSED TO <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">whisper </span>and I am supposed to reach out to my support and I am supposed to watch my therapeutic parenting videos and I am supposed to keep all of these tools and all of this hope at the very front of my mind. I haven't been and you know what? It's not okay, but it is okay to carry on forward and not dwell on it any longer.<br />
<br />
So, I've decided to give it another go at the <a href="http://puddingwithoutmeat.blogspot.com/2010/05/attachment-challenge-day-1.html">Attachment Challenge</a>!!! I'm excited, of course. I know I need to get back into the groove of doing what I need to do every day (okay, well... during my period, I'm kind of forgiven, but I'm still aiming high) and I'm hoping that bringing this back up will help me do that. <br />
<br />
And this, friends, is how I've moved from "dealing" to "handling". I put my hands back in the game and I'm not going to sit back and give the cards to everyone else. I'm getting back in the driver's seat and giving it another go. This time, though, I have no intentions of documenting it every day. I've got lots of <a href="http://www.rumptastic.com/">pants</a> to make in the evenings, anyway.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-68460357076966258182010-11-07T13:28:00.000-08:002010-11-07T13:28:44.385-08:00Don't you tell me I'm luckyI got back from the grocery a little bit ago. While in the checkout line I saw Zane's classroom best friend's step-Mom. We said our "hi"s and she said she hadn't seen us around, so I informed her that we started home schooling last month. She said, "I wish I could do that, you're lucky!" I said, "Why can't you?" She said, "I have to work." I said, "I'm lighting the torch under the NEW feminist movement so stay home if that's what you feel you should do and the economy will catch up." She said, "I wish my bills agreed with that, you're so lucky."<br />
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I shook my head and it was my turn to cash out so I did my stuff and we said bye.<br />
<br />
I wish this was a rare occurance. But, it's not. At all. I hear it all the time, even before we were home schooling, but just because I choose to be home with my kids. And you know what? I'm pissed off.<br />
<br />
So, this is kind of a rant-ish post, k?<br />
<br />
Firstly, I'm not lucky. I haven't bought a new pair of underwear in 2 friggin years. True fact. And every time I need to buy razor blades for shaving I cringe at the $9 JUST TO SHAVE MY LEGS! We're hardly swimming in money. Don't get me wrong, we're also not impoverished by any means, but what I'm getting at is that we choose this. Consciously and intentionally. A couple of months ago things were rough enough that I was looking for a PT job and I was looking hard. I decided, instead, to throw my heart and soul behind Rumptastic!! so I didn't lose focus.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm pretty open, like I've talked about before. I'd be happy to share with you all exactly my husband's salary, but his work kinda' frowns on it. So, I can't. But, in the few circles that I have shared it (usually making my point as to why people need to quit assuming stay home Moms are in wealthy families) I A.L.W.A.Y.S. get a "Wow!" And, it's always a "Wow" that means... on *that* salary you make it work with a mortgage, 2 kids, 3 pets, and ZERO credit card debt (which is now no longer true as we did put something on them for the first time ever, but it's for Rumptastic!!, not for our every day living)!?!? <br />
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Yes, yes we do.<br />
<br />
How?? Well, I get a new purse when mine breaks, not when it's no longer in style. We buy a lot of stuff used (and this month-everything!) and this is more for the environmental impact, but it sure does help out in the wallet division! I make food more than buying food. Ya' know... I buy ingredients then make meals, I don't buy meals in a box or meals in an envelope. When we need things for the house (like a toilet) we go to <a href="http://www.habitat.org/restores/default.aspx?tgs=MTEvNy8yMDEwIDM6NDc6MjQgUE0%3d">ReStore</a>, again more for the environmental impact but a big saver as well. I don't "go to the hair dresser" but even if I did we'd definitely go somewhere like Great Clips. We don't have cable tv(although we mostly don't want to watch it anyway, what we do like we can get on Hulu). <br />
<br />
Does this mean we go without? No way, Jose! Our bedrooms are all filled with things we need/want/use/used to use, as are our living rooms, but we haven't been able to afford putting siding on our house or doing the landscaping in either of our yards. It's all a balancing act. What we can do now vs. what we can't and what we need to do now vs. what we don't. It's funny when we really take a look around we realize how much we really have! We moved into an apartment together 5 years ago (this month) with next to nothing. No couches or living room furniture, no real bed for Zane, no bed for us (although it was at Jon's parents' house we didn't get it for several months), and we ate on the floor, cross-legged, and with Zane usually on one of our laps. For entertainment we'd put some music on the laptop and dance around the living room or we'd all do family yoga or we'd go for a walk or we'd play in the big field next to our place. <br />
<br />
We've never "gone without" even when we really were, because we chose to not go without. We chose to live well under whatever circumstances we were in. We've been very blessed with people around us getting rid of furniture for free or very cheap and having wonderful people in our lives who have helped us along the way, even giving us nearly new carpet! We were blessed when Jon initially got his job, because prior to that we were both waiting tables. We are very blessed, indeed and I don't intend to downplay that at all. But, we NEVER chose to be lucky.<br />
<br />
I worked for a couple of years after moving here and it was good fun and boy were we doing well financially. No worries for us. But, we realized that the kids NEEDED me at home. Zane was having big problems in school and Stori was colicky at day care. Jon and I were both exhausted and even though we'd looked at our budget many times before and saw NO WAY of it working, we decided it was what we needed to do. So, I quit my job. At the time, Jon made about 60% of our income while I made 40% that's a HUGE loss. But, it was even more of a gain. <br />
<br />
Because zoning in on our kids while they're young and 100% dependent on us is more important *to us* than all of the other things in the world that we can get in 10, 15, or 20 years. Home improvements will never go away, nor will the supply of brand news cars, big, fancy tvs, or Blu-Ray players. But our childrens' youthfulness will. <br />
<br />
I walk into other people's homes and often I feel envy. I see their things and I feel inadequate or less-than. I feel like I know who I will and will not invite to my home based solely on their environment. Because I don't want judgment held against me for being "poor", because I'm not poor. I'm just not invested in my things right now. One day, I'll have time and energy, and money, and interest in that but right now, I simply don't.<br />
<br />
Not because I'm a better Mom than you. Not because you're a better Mom than me. Because we're different, that's all. There's nothing wrong with it at all, so please... Working Moms stop acting like we (stay home Moms) look down on you for working! WE DON'T! I think it's great that we women DO have a choice in the matter. But, I do get really, really offended when you look at us and tell us we're lucky while assuming that we are living the same way as you, but are doing it on one income. I guarantee you we are not. We are choosing this. You are choosing that. We're happy to help pick your kids up from school or watch them while you work late. We really are. Just, please, PLEASE stop belittling our choices and giving the power in what we do to our spouse's imaginary income.<br />
<br />
Please.<br />
<br />
AND... if you really do want to say home but really feel like you can't or that it'd be too hard, talk to us and trust us. Every stay home Mom that I know has made a big financial sacrifice to come home with her kids. Every. one. of. them. I know there are plenty out there who didn't, but if I have a pretty large network of Mommas and every one of them did, then you're definitely not alone. <br />
<br />
This all comes back to feminism, which I used to really, really not like. Economics 101: A society's standard of living adjusts to what the people in the society deem appropriate. True story.<br />
<br />
Prior to the feminist movement it was standard issue for a man to work and a woman to stay home and care for her family. Thus, the economy supported that. Home prices were valued proportionally to one-income families. So were groceries. Car prices. The whole works. Because that is how our society worked. Then, women said... screw you men, we want to work! So they started working. Now, our economy supports a society that has two-income families. Viola! It took a bit of time for the economy to catch up to the women working and that's why the housing boom was possible. Suddenly there was so much money that inflation hadn't yet caught up. Now, it's up to speed and people who live in homes where there are two working adults live "average" lives. <br />
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If you really want to stay home, do it. The money WILL come. The economy WILL catch up. And, really.. given the current state of affairs, now might just be a great time for us to revolutionize the American economy anyway. It's fluctuating and trying to straighten out; it's coming out of a very deep recession. There are people out of work already. Now, rather than debting ourselves with all the out-of-work chaos, we CAN transform as it rebuilds itself. It's true, I promise! IF YOU WANT to be at home and it is what your soul calls out to you then do it. You WILL figure it out and you WILL be okay and you CAN join us.<br />
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If you don't, then please stop telling us you want to and just own your stance. Please. I own my faded carpet. Please own your new car. Please.<br />
<br />
Stop telling us we're lucky. We're only making different choices than you.<br />
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And there's NOTHING wrong with that if we can all <a href="http://blog.thenext2shine.com/2010/music-video-pink-raise-your-glass">own. our. choices</a>.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-54305374339086777232010-11-06T19:03:00.000-07:002010-11-06T19:03:46.834-07:00You get what you ask forit's up to you whether or not you'll accept it and what value you put on it.<br />
<br />
The other day, in preparation for this cleanse I asked my <a href="http://visionarymom.com/visionary-mom-teams/">Visionary Moms</a> for any advice they had for me. Again, this is my first time and I know at least one of them had done a cleanse before. She said to make sure I have a solid reason why I'm doing it and stick with it, because when it gets hard I have to have that reason to fall back on. My thought reaction to this, "Eh, it won't be that hard and I'm doing it cause...well, why not." and I left it at that.<br />
<br />
So, tonight after dinner (lentil soup) the kids wanted to have some oatmeal as well. When I was mixing up that delicious honey and cinnamon with the warm gooeyness of oatmeal I lost my drive and ate a bit. Then, I had the leftover crackers on the table (half eaten and a little gooey from Stori). Then, I had a cookie. And another cookie. Then I said, well... that didn't work! <br />
<br />
And you know what? I'm not upset with myself, or angry, or sad, or disappointed, or negatively self-fulfilled. I recognize it for what it was. Something that I can't say I was fully driven to do. Something I wasn't dedicated to. Something that just plain and simply didn't happen right now. <br />
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I also have an awesome week of meals planned out that I'm so stoked to try, 'cause they're almost all new to me, woot! But, I'm just not following the rules of the cleanse. <br />
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Sorry to disappoint, I know you were REALLY looking forward to seeing pictures of my poo. :-PCORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-38877846942536468402010-11-06T06:58:00.000-07:002010-11-06T06:59:48.852-07:00Fall Cleanse Day 1I've heard a lot of people doing "cleanses" either by barely eating anything or taking lots of supplements, or eating only a strict cleansing regimen diet, or by ingesting nothing other than lemon and cayenne water, or... Ya know, lots of cleanses. Frankly, I've been intrigued since the first I heard of it. My whole life ebb and flows, it's the way I work. I do then I rest, I buy things then I purge them, I clean a lot then I don't, and on and on. So it only makes sense for me to do sporadic cleanses, yes? <br />
<br />
So, I signed up to do <a href="http://hannahsharvest.com/cleanse-power/">this cleanse</a> for the fall a couple of weeks ago and today it begins. The past several days I've been on the brink of downright panic over having no cookies, no breads, no pastas, no BACON. But, last night as my mind and my heart were preparing during slumber I dreamt of being done with my first day ad having found it was easy and felt good. I'm crossing my fingers it goes that well. :-)<br />
<br />
I'm not going to tell you all of Hannah's secrets or instructions, because that's her information that she puts lots of hard work into and if you want to play, you ought to head over and sign up to play with us. But, because this is my first-ever cleanse I do want to share a bit. I intend to start my days before anyone else here in this casa and journal a bit about how it's going. Because I'm not certain what all to expect, physically. I'll be taking pictures of my face today, midway, and last day. I'll also be taking pictures of my poo. Mmhmm, I will be. I probably won't share any of my pictures here though, so not to worry. The only reason I might is if there's such an obvious and resounding difference in my skin or my beaming-full-happiness-and-joy level or if my poo takes an incredible journey toward <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/01/27/alicia-silverstone-oprah_n_439218.html">beautiful poo</a>. I think I might share what I'm eating, too, and my take on it all. I've spent an entire week looking up recipes of new things to try and by golly-cleansing or not-I think I've found some YUMMY stuff to eat! xx <--that's me crossing my fingers. Food is my vice, after all, and if I'm not enjoying it then there's just no point in life at all. :-P<br />
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I think the toughest thing will be seeing how the kiddos react to the meals. I do have plans to offer them each meal I make for myself and Jon, but won't be forcing them into it. If they find they're not satisfied then they'll have something different and that's okay. Although, this isn't one of those crazy insane cleanses I mentioned above and so it's perfectly healthy and fulfilling for all of us to eat I can definitely see the kids getting tired of the different, sometimes weird, but mostly just different food. Hopefully they'll be good sports about it, otherwise I'll be doing LOTS of cooking. :-/<br />
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Anyway, I'm off now to start my day and I'm looking forward to experiencing this week of honoring my body with GOOD food.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-91179161607595734982010-10-26T15:26:00.000-07:002010-10-26T16:43:23.820-07:00SmorgasbordSometimes I feel like a lot of things happen and inspire me to write, but I often feel like I can't throw out a whole bunch of words about most individual subjects, since I'm no real writer. I'm also a new homeschooler, an entrepreneur, a Mom, a wife, and a person who likes time to myself, so my blogging is hardly a daily activity... :-/ Let's just call this a smorgasbord!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Standing up to the Bully and FOR "Big Phil"</span></b></div><br />
The other day Jon and I went to a haunted house. We went at the earlier, advised time to minimize our wait and were having a really good time. While in line, we were in front of a moderately sized group of teenagers. Overall they were good kids, but at one point, I overheard this: boy: "Oh shit, big Phil's here." girl: "Who's big Phil?" boy: "Dude he's like 400 fuckin pounds man and he's so fat. He runs so slow and always makes us run more laps, he's fuckin fat." <br />
<br />
This was clearly an athletic boy based on his conversation and his build. He was very healthy, probably 6.5feet tall or so, and confident. Reminder of <a href="http://puddingwithoutmeat.blogspot.com/2010/10/all-bullying-going-on.html">this</a> for you. I'm the "bullied" not the bully. But, it's true what we were talking about a couple of weeks ago. It is the responsibility of the adults to change what's going on. I didn't do exactly as I should have, but I did my best given the adrenaline-charged shaking I had going on: "Excuse me, boys..." boy: "Yeah?" me: "I'm sure you've heard of these teenagers who are literally killing themselves over words like that. That shit hurts people, for real. Find different words." boy: (With snide and embarrassed expression)"Okay" me: "Please" boy: (Same expression)"Okay" girl: (to me) "Thank You"<br />
<br />
It wasn't *much*. And I really think I could've empathized more with the boy. But, again... I was actually shaking. It was SO.SCARY. for me to say anything to the boy. Terrifying. I don't know if it's the general idea of standing up to someone or if it was because his words were so chilling in the first place, or if it was because I was standing up to things in my past as well, or if it was the "embarrassment" of acknowledging to myself that I am, in fact, the old lady who tells teenagers to "cool their jets" so to speak. Whatever it was though, it was a rush. I felt good, I felt proud, I felt accomplished, I felt hopeful. I felt a little bit bad about calling him out in front of the others, but it's not quite like I could say, "Hey, come with me, please..." <br />
<br />
I also felt like the girl who thanked me might feel more courage to do something similar in the future. I don't know for sure, but it's like nursing in public. Every time someone sees it for the first time it affects them and let's just hope she'll walk away from that feeling that it's better to speak up in the future. I hope so. I kinda' wish I could've given my phone number to the whole group of them and said, "If you ever need anyone safe to talk to...call, please." But, yeah... not quite there yet. :-P<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">It's kinda' chilly! Brrr.</span></b></div><br />
I live in the mountains, ya know. It's the time of year when it starts getting quite cold little by little. Our house has a "no furnace till November" challenge. If a blizzard comes we'll turn it in, but pretty much anything else won't warrant a change-of-plans here. Why? I can't really tell you... I'm not certain. Partially because I like the idea of allowing our bodies to move into the next season. We must be a little chilly to recognize what's coming and I think internally, we expect it. So, we let ourselves get a bit brisk. Also, it's a good way to check what sweaters do and don't fit, who has enough socks for the winter, how everyone's stockpile of warm clothes is. Even during the winter, we don't turn our furnace more than 62 degrees F so we need to keep our stuff in stock. Currently, it's 59 in our house. Brr. :-) It's also a nice way to ring in the season with cuddling in front of the fireplace and embracing whatever kinda' lovin' comes next! ;-) More than anything, I guess it's just a fun way to be in a little bit of denial that winter is really almost here. Until we hear the furnace fire up, we can pretend it'll be 70 tomorrow (okay, Friday... but we'll make it!)<br />
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Have you ever thought of doing a furnace challenge? Or, more so, an A/C challenge? Tell me about it if you decide to join in the game. If you've already turned your furnace on, it's okay. Go turn it off and join us now. Join the wintertime bandwagon and keep your furnace low all winter, too. I'll touch back on that in several weeks. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Super-Great-Awesomely-Fun-Random-Neat Challenge for the CO Roots!!!!</span></b></div><br />
I thought about it the other day and I'm so stoked!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
We aren't going to be buying anything that's brand new (other than groceries, supplements, and the like) through the month of November. If all goes well (which that is the goal) we'll continue this new way of shopping indefinitely. You see... I was thinking the other day what big consumers we are. Any of you who know us know that we are pretty modest folks. We prefer it that way (aside from gizmos and gadgets). Even with our modest ways of living, we buy a lot of stuff brand new that we don't actually need to buy brand new. Can you imagine how many dishes are thrown away every day? How many dishes are made in factories(not in America, either of course, but that's as far into politics as I'll get right now) every day? How many bras are thrown out? How many dog leashes? Candles? HAIR BANDS?????<br />
<br />
We can find all of these things and a boatload more at second hand stores, on Craigslist, at garage sales, etc. It's so easy for me to thrift store shop for clothes, but I rarely think about all those other things I "pick up" all the time. So, I thought how fun it would be to change the way I think about getting what we need. It all started with our need for a new dog leash. Rootie eats through his every few months or so. We're always getting new ones. So far we've gotten the one we got with Rootie, a hand-me-down from Jon's parents, the freebie that came from the Humane Society when he gotten taken in by the doggie truck, and a lost-and-forgotten one we found at the off-leash dog park. He just ate through the latest last week and we need to get him a new one. <br />
<br />
The Universe hasn't plopped one in our lap yet, the way it has so far, so we went to the store to buy one. As we moseyed around we were surprised at the price of a new leash (that Rootie will have eaten by spring, I'm sure) and we were equally surprised that Martha Stewart has a line of pet products. But, anyway... My eyes were also being drawn to every dog in there, both in puppy school and not. I realized than... we've gotten all of these used leashes before... We can EASILY get a used dog leash from someone on Craigslist or at a secondhand. So, we looked at the silly things in Petsmart, had some fun, googly-eyed some puppies, and made our way on with our day. As I was thinking about my whole train of thought I realized that there's a whole aspect of our lives that we're more wasteful than we give ourselves credit for being. Yuck! Thus, the idea was born. <br />
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Buy used. Duh. But, buy lots of stuff used. Yay! I'm really excited about it. I'm going to search for an inner tube for my bike on CL now. Keeping my fingers crossed for this one. You wanna play too? Think about how many things you bring in your house each week, each month that you could get just as good not straight from a package. Play with me!!! Tell me all about your good finds and your good sales, too! :-DCORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-5947434050754801782010-10-14T22:14:00.000-07:002010-10-14T22:14:47.382-07:00Bye Nipple... Bye Breast... Bye Mama Milk.Stori said this to my breasts as she was nursing for the last time and directly thereafter. It's kind of a big deal. You see... I'm a believer in child-led weaning. I'm also a breastfeeding advocate. I literally walk up to nursing-in-public Mommas and say "Right on, sister!", I cheer on new Moms with the desire to breastfeed, and I'm straight forward about the false claims by those in the medical community and in grocery supply who state that women can't breastfeed or that formula is an equal. That's not to say that I'm anti-formula, because I'm not. But, I definitely am pro-breastfeeding. The reasons why are endless and some can't even be explained. <br />
<br />
But, *I* have chosen to stop breastfeeding. GASP!! If it were Stori's choice, she'd be hanging on all day like my little chimpanzee baby. The girl is a "nursing Nelly". But, I'm done. I've been mostly done for quite some time, but again... I'm sensitive to her needs and desires and my plan was to let her choose when to stop. So, I put some limits on it several months ago. I cut it down to 3 times per day. We were there for a couple of months then I decided a couple months back to cut it down to just in the morning after waking up. I've not been enjoying it anymore. After all, it IS a relationship and I'm kind of part of it. :-) <br />
<br />
So, I found myself talking to Jon about my decision to just be done and he supported me. Then I realized, as I was talking... I'm done breastfeeding. Really done. Done. Not done breastfeeding Stori. I'm done breastfeeding. We're not having any more kids and while I'm happy to provide milk for ANYONE who wants it for their child, the likeliness of me happening upon this type of opportunity any time soon is pretty slim. Which means that my career is over. <br />
<br />
I've nursed two kids. I've spent 3 years 4 month and 27 days nursing those two kids. Zane spent 1 year, 3 months, and 15 days at my breast and Stori spent 2 years, 1 month, and 12 days. Yeah, I know. How.many.days. It's a big deal, like I said, to be done. Countless midnight trips to the crib side, immeasurable hours of cuddling, numerous times of frustration. Breastfeeding is a way of life while it's happening. <br />
<br />
There are a few things that only a woman can experience and I am so grateful and blessed to be a woman to experience these things. I menstruate. Lots of women complain about it, but I think it's pretty stinkin' neat. I can carry babies inside of my body. EXTRAORDINARY! I can breastfeed. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING, I say! Not only did these two people begin in me, but they developed outside of me because of what was coming from inside of me. I really don't have the words that are adequate to explain even a glimpse of my passion for this stuff. <br />
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Even though this choice is self-made I'm experiencing loss with it. The fact that God made me a woman and provided me the opportunity to experience all of these gifts made only for women is something that overwhelms me sometimes. The completion of my time as a breastfeeding woman is over. Breasts are the truest life-giving gift of all time. I kinda' feel like mine are about to lose their meaning. Of course Jon'll disagree! ;-) And while we all know that Mom's breasts make the best pillows during tough times I guess I'm just dealing with the idea of no longer lactating. In some amount of time it won't matter what I do to them, I won't be pulling milk from them. I'm trying to deal with that.<br />
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The plus side is that this has ROCKED my world! It's rocked Stori's world and it rocked Zane's world years ago! It's even rocked Jon's world as he learned his own feelings about watching his child and his wife share milk. While there are lots of humps along the way and breastfeeding is not an all-out easy path, I've been blessed to have two relatively chaos-free experiences with full term breastfeeding. <br />
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I've come to the decision somewhat slowly and am certain that this is the end. I'm so happy about it and am feeling free and liberated. I'm excited for under wire bras and colorful bras. I'm excited for the future to get here and the 2 year-old groping to be a thing of the past. I'm excited to wake up and be able to comfort Stori in new, different ways. I'm just really, really excited! <br />
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So.<br />
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Bye Nipple... Bye Breast... Bye Mama Milk.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eM7Fg6mjq7w/TLfjI7e-pYI/AAAAAAAAAH4/4DXETrneHoA/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eM7Fg6mjq7w/TLfjI7e-pYI/AAAAAAAAAH4/4DXETrneHoA/s320/029.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-90949154558134063972010-10-05T21:45:00.000-07:002010-10-06T12:21:25.180-07:00All the bullying going onIt's everywhere right now. The talk of bullying. Brought upon because all too many kids killed themselves after being bullied so ferociously they felt they had no value. Because they were gay. Good freakin' Lord, y'all. Because they know they like people they get tormented? Not 'cause they're bad in any way. Because they like people. And those people happen to have the same sexual organs as they do. Tormented. Verbally assaulted. Beaten down. Drawn to death. Bullshit.<br />
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I could never find the words as eloquent as <a href="http://www.danoah.com/2010/10/memoirs-of-bullied-kid.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+TheAdventuresOfDanAndNoah+(Single+Dad+Laughing">this dude who's awesomer than awesome in his ways of speaking.</a><br />
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And I won't try. Most of the people I know will say they were bullied. I don't know if it's a general perception during any given time in our lives or if the problem is so fierce or if everyone lives bullying in a different way. Frankly, I don't care. I do think that if we all could live as more of a community we *might* not have the same issues so young in life. I can hope, right? Just as so many other people do, I have a story. Mine isn't of how I wanted anyone to die. And, I've never been quiet. <br />
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I had no problems when I lived in Oklahoma. That came to an end, however, when my Mom decided that screwing our Karate sensei was more important than ya' know... us. So, my sis, Dad, and self moved to a little town in Illinois. My Dad had a job available to him there so that was our landing spot after escaping the divorce. On my first day, I got my locker assigned to me and went through the uncomfortable "I'm Shannon" introduction stuff. I had a couple of people who were nice and reached out to me and helped me out on that day. At that stage in the game, lockers came with locker buddies. Unfortunately for me, my locker buddy was an elitist and the 2nd day at my new school I was informed that my locker buddy was no longer my buddy. She wasn't very good at being sly and soon I found out that it was because my -fake- fur coat smelled bad and/or was ugly and took up too much space in the locker. I was definitely off to a great start. <br />
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Since having Zane, I've thought a lot about childhood bullying, both my receiving of it and my giving of it. (More on this in a minute...) I've apologized to one person that I was really mean to after seeking them out on Facebook for that exact reason. I still have a couple more. It's such a scary thing to do. When I did apologize I got a response that I didn't expect at all. I got a "eh, it's nothing we were teenagers, nobody meant anything they did." Now I'm scared to do more apologizing. I'm fearing that this stuff I've been holding onto for YEEEAAARSSSSSS (my guilt over my own behavior) is nonsensical and that what I did didn't really hurt or affect anyone. I hope I didn't really hurt anyone, but the fact is that I believe I did. And I believe that even as a grown woman the recipient of that apology may still feel that her feelings aren't important. But, they are. So, I'll do my other couple of apologies because it hurts to know that I hurt others and I don't know how it affects these people as adults, but I know that I am STILL affected by things done to me as a child. I think it'd be just grand to hear from David, Anne, Billy, Mr. Culbertson, and Mrs. Spivey and find a real, raw reason for their disgust of me. I think it'd be great because it wouldn't undo anything, but it'd help us all get to the point of why this happens. It'd mean that those people are thinking about themselves in the meaningful, hard ways and they're seeing themselves and understanding who they are and who they have been. It'd mean they're finding personal growth. It'd mean that we might have one more approach to a kid who's bullying, or worse...to a teacher who's bullying.<br />
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I didn't endure physical brutality or endless days of torture like some other have. I think I was the "average bullied" kid. It was general knowledge that I wasn't liked and no one hid it, but only on certain occasions was it deemed fun to exploit my sense of self worth. Like when a boy was my boyfriend and his friend asked him how he could go out with me and referred to me as "it" directly in front of my face. When the same boy made fun of me for being "flat" in 6th grade. When the same boy came to my house for my birthday parties but escorted a huge group of people away from my house until it was time for parents to pick up then they all swarmed back. When a different boy in a higher grade asked me to be his girlfriend and in my naive adolescence I cooed "yeah" to him. He got me on the phone with his friends listening in on the other side a couple of times and 2 or 3 days after the prank began he finally ended it by publicly announcing the whole thing was a joke at the school play. When my basketball coach opted to not teach me how to do a drill properly, but rather had everyone stop and watch me do it wrong, because I kept messing it up. In 7th grade. Not freakin' varsity basketball here. When that same teacher taught algebra and told the whole class about how bad I was at basketball. When my 5th grade teacher mocked my last name during class by chanting "Rumpshaker" (my last name was Rumps) repeatedly when I finally got a good enough grade to throw a foam basketball in her class for a prize. When that same teacher stopped the whole gymnastics class one evening to find my smelly feet and make me smell someone else's feet that didn't smell, rather than recognizing that I was too stinking poor for new shoes or enough socks and that maybe my Dad didn't wash my laundry and all I really needed was a $5 pair of Keds given to me quietly by someone who cared rather than laughed. <br />
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Yeah, all those times... They were some of the random times that I was bullied and while it wasn't ongoing torture and no one was throwing me in trash cans it was still enough. Enough to prove to me (right after my Mom left the country for a dude) that no one, in fact, gave a rat's ass that I was around. I never fantasized about killing anyone or wishing they died. I've always been an internalizer, not an externalizer. So, I'd sit in the brush on the side of Foley Dr. and visualize myself jumping in front of the next car to drive by at 55MPH. I'd try to gain the courage to do it. But, I was so afraid that I wouldn't die and that I'd be hurt instead that I never did it. I always knew that even though it felt like the whole world hated me my Dad and my sister wouldn't be okay with me killing myself. There were plenty of times that those two things kept me alive. <br />
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I retaliated in my own ways. I got really good at making fun of myself FIRST. I figured if I beat 'em to the punch then it'd seem like they were just playing along. Of course that never happened. I just annoyed my friends who really did like me and I formed an internal dialogue that I'm still fighting to this very day. I also kept friends who weren't so good to me and who were my best friends only because they were as sad and lonely as I was. I was still their whipping boy though, receiving loogies on my forehead and getting chanted to through a window after I got squeezed out of a sleepover "Homeward Bound" like I was the dog in the movie. I was still her friend the next day, too. Shame. I found people "lower on the totem pole" than myself and I teased them. I remember getting in a heated argument with one girl in the computer lab and just being mean to her. Coming up with all sorts of really harsh insults such as "Can you come over for dinner? We're having spaghetti and I need to rub my toast on your head to grease it up" Totally lame. Terrible "joke". And, yet... people laughed and cheered me on during that. <br />
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And that felt good.<br />
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I hate that I did that to her. I hate that I pretended to like a boy who I actually did like and I think he liked me but he was more of a nerd than myself and so I dared not expose my true liking for him and instead teased him for liking me. I hate that I resorted to drinking and smoking cigarettes with the outcasts similar to myself at such a ridiculously young age. However, I found a place there that was safe. I had my boys and none of them treated me poorly. I was never pressured into sex stuff or...well... really anything. But, we all got together and drank away our 12-14 year old problems. Chaos. <br />
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I think <a href="http://www.danoah.com/2010/10/memoirs-of-bullied-kid.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+TheAdventuresOfDanAndNoah+(Single+Dad+Laughing">that guy</a> has a good way of telling us what we can do to help, especially when he writes directly to the young people. It's true. We do have the responsibility of talking to kids, asking them questions, and putting our arms around them no matter what the stupid school rules say about no touching. We have the privilege of speaking up when we do hear something inappropriate happening and not by doing so forcefully but rather with compassion. I can absolutely guarantee that the only reason I was mean to others was that I was trying to defend my place in the pecking order. The bullies really do need us to be their safe place, too. Not their excuse, not their silent witness. Their safe place. We should provide, to them, a person who can be spoken with and trusted. A person who will point out their most positive qualities and still hold them accountable for their negative behaviors. We've got to open our hearts to ALL kids to show them that they ALL matter. They are ALL struggling in similar ways and we are here for them. We can stop telling them they're "bad" and start showing them that they're good. I betcha' they don't even know it. And, we can share all sorts of writings (especially responses to the recent suicides) age-appropriately-edited with them so they can see that we really get it. We're not just grown ups who are telling them things but that we are grown PEOPLE who have experienced things. We can even speak up when we see parents bullying their own kids. But, that's an entire area to explore...CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-19710908472054210132010-10-01T22:30:00.000-07:002010-10-01T22:30:31.938-07:00Today, it happened.Zane had a tough time at school. I came to pick him up. The principal said (with Zane present), "He said something about home schooling?" I asked Zane what he said. He told me, "I want to home school 'cause I don't feel good here." WOW! That's fucking powerful from a 7 year old RAD kid!!!! He's been really fighting the idea of home schooling and Jon and I have been really supporting him in school, but we have made him aware that if he ever changes his mind he's welcome to come home anytime. I read <a href="http://www.enjoyparenting.com/daily-groove/making-peace">this</a> last week. I've been applying it to our daily doings. Really being okay with what is happening. Finding authentic reasoning when I'm noticing I'm fighting something because of my conditioned reasoning. <br />
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Such as: We rode bikes to Wendy's after dinner to enjoy a free Frosty coupon Zane got today at school. Zane was eating his as slowly as absolutely possible. I've never seen this child eat anything sugary as slowly as he was. Barely nibbling snippits off the tip of his spoon. So, I told him, "Hurry up so Stori doesn't get bored." Immediately I recognized what I was doing and said, "Never mind dude, take your time and enjoy it." He should enjoy it. This type of event is so very rare, why should he rush it if he actually isn't. If he's savoring the moment why should I rush him to not be present in the moment? Duh, Shannon. Whew! Glad I caught myself so quickly. <br />
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Tonight I'm seeing that the same thing happened when I accepted school for what it is. His desire to be there and my desire for him to succeed. Even if it's at something I don't want him to succeed at, I still want him doing well. And now... he realized his own feelings. And his worth of feeling better. Woot!<br />
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So, tonight we applied for the COVA program and I'm pretty excited. Less afraid than I was a couple of weeks ago when Jon and I were going to decide for him. We'll still have transition, but I learned a few things this summer about parenting him, keeping everyone safe, and establishing boundaries that he will not cross. I guess a benefit of parenting an emotionally disturbed child alone(well with Jon, but you know...we don't exactly have a community of people who have invested in learning about him) is that I've given myself a crash-course in RAD parenting. Thanks a TON to <a href="http://www.welcometomybrain.net/">Christine</a>, <a href="http://www.watchingthewaters.com/2010/09/send-mom-to-orlando-win-ipod.html">Corey</a>, <a href="http://slowponyhome.blogspot.com/2010/09/things-i-love-today.html">Alicia</a>, and <a href="http://www.attach.org/">others</a>.<br />
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One of the things we did learn this summer is that Zane and I need a focal point. We need it to be lighthearted and not too heavy or demanding. We need flexibility, but we DO need something to focus on. So, our initial idea of unschooling won't work for us. There's just TOO much to choose from in that arena. This is why we're signing up with COVA. The principal also offered to allow Zane to come to school for music class (he said as we were leaving "I get to go and keep learning to sing really good so I can be a music teacher when I grow up!") and allow him to be in either game club or chess club when they start. <br />
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I'm feeling good and hopeful about the way we'll be approaching home schooling at this point. We still very much parent in the philosophy of love which encompasses the theory behind unschooling. Our brains just work differently and we've learned that. Sweet! I'm so incredibly proud of Zane to recognize his feelings today. So! Proud! Of! Him!<br />
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Many thanks to God and many thanks to us being us. We could choose to be a lot of different ways (like the lady who was yelling at her daughter that she is BAD, BAD, BAD at Zane's school last week since her Mom had to sit in class with her through the day). But, we do choose to be who we are. I'm glad for that.<br />
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**If you really knew me, you'd know that if I call my Dad while he's watching a DVD he will tell me he's watching a movie and can't talk and you'd know that my Mom has repeatedly told my sister and me that she has other things to tend to and can't handle us, even when we're offering to pay for family counseling with her. My parents have never put us first. I don't think we've ever even been second.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072553505203981041.post-3481863287194014332010-09-29T22:35:00.000-07:002010-09-29T22:35:06.333-07:00Let's talk about sex.I haven't gone here yet. Mainly because I started this about unschooling and then things changed. Now I don't really know what I'm blogging about. HA! I can guarantee one thing though, it'll almost always be opinionated. <br />
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I have strong feelings about sex, too. :-)<br />
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In fact, we all do. It is the most intimate of interpersonal energetic exchanges. It can carry many faces, many pressures. Sex is never boring. Even boring sex. And we ALL have boring sex sometimes.<br />
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Have you ever really thought about your feelings or thoughts during sex? Do you remove yourself sometimes? Do you think about your grocery list? Your dinner? Your penis? Your feet? Your performance? Your kids and their challenges? Your partner's performance? Your breath? Your breasts? Your relationship? Do you bond with your partner? Do you bond with YOURSELF?<br />
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A short while ago, I was introduced to <a href="http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/my-penis-and-everyone-elses/">this movie about penises.</a> I watched it and thought it was great. It truly hurts me to know how sad men are about their penises. Maybe not sad, but insecure. That's not fair, in my opinion. My take on the subject? Size does matter, of course. One inch won't do much, doesn't matter how you work it. Equally, 10 inches seems like it'd be painful. I say YEOWCH!! at the thought of it. I think, however, the vast majority of penises aren't 10 or 1 inches. Of course I haven't compiled a list of measurements, nor have I performed a study on the subject (official or otherwise). But, I have girlfriends. I have a sister. I have gay friends. <br />
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I also have someone who trusted me recently to talk about his sexual trouble. While I fully respect his desire for anonymity I think it's a damn shame how much we are all afraid of talking about things WITH THE SAME SEX. Like we have to measure up to one another or something. Admittedly, women don't seem to be as uncomfortable with this and share a lot of insecurities with one another. What is it in the nature of men that make them compete unintentionally? I don't know. But, it makes me sad. Watch that movie and be brave and recognize that we women walk around all the time with the size of our breasts up for public display. I've never met a single woman who's single because of her breast size. Nor have I heard of a woman who got breast cancer, lost a breast (or two) and ended up being alone forever. Guess what. Wouldn't happen to men either. So STOP BEING WORRIED ABOUT YOUR PACKAGE!!! What's going on in your pants is not going to be a deal breaker or a deal maker for the things in a relationship that succeeds. I promise.<br />
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There is also the problem with a shit-ton of women afraid of doing <a href="http://women4hope.wordpress.com/2007/10/18/80-of-women-and-92-of-girls-are-dissatisfied-with-their-bodies/">this</a> because they think they should be doing <a href="http://mindchic.net/how-to-pick-up-hot-women-fast/">this.</a> We're truly shown all.the.time. that we are supposed to be the latter to be sexy or attractive. But, we're told all.the.time. that the prior is truly magnificent. We're all confused and while we know that the first is perfect, we feel imperfect for being those women.<br />
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Bring into play all the emotions we have about <a href="http://www.danoah.com/2010/09/disease-called-perfection.html">who we are</a> totally unrelated to sex, our obligations to family, work, friends, our partners, and what we want for ourselves and we can't even begin to believe that ANY of us could possibly begin to think that sex is simply an "act" to be done. <br />
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Yet, this is portrayed with the overuse of the word sexy. I think people have forgotten that the root word of sexy is sex and it's meaning is a direct correlation of the "act". People are sexy, movies are sexy, music is sexy, dancing is sexy, frickin hair is sexy. Now maybe I'm the only one, but... I've never been mid-sex and my partner stopped to play with my hair. Or start dancing. Or watch a movie. Also, this is super honest but I'm a pretty good dancer. Actually, I'm a really good dancer. And, I do mean club dancing. "Sexy" dancing. In exploring my sexual nature I've definitely tried to move my body in the same ways I do when I dance. Dance moves do NOT make good sex, let me tell ya! ;-) So, sure. Sexy dancing looks sexy, but it doesn't have anything to do with sex. Now if Beyonce's thinking about groceries AND trying to dance during sex... I wouldn't want to participate. HA!<br />
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I haven't really explored my observations on energy and experiences in this blog yet, because it's so hard to put into words, but I'll be working on it because it's pretty well the way I live my life. To try to put it simply, however, I think we all need to be a little bit nicer to ourselves and each other about sex. There are very few people in our lives that we'll share our sexual nature with (even in conversation) but it's something we all are and have. We (almost)all get naked to the core with lights on and share ourselves with a partner at some point in our lives. We allow someone else's body into ours or we place a part of our body inside of someone else's. That's big. We ought to stop being so judgmental about it all and we ought to step inside of ourselves and notice who we are during sex. How we are during sex. What we are during sex. At any given time. And explore that part of ourselves. Super challenge: pay close attention to your mind and heart when you masturbate. You'll really get to know yourself then. Compare that with sex and you won't have time for any blog reading.<br />
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Because it's really fucking fascinating.<br />
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And for my new segment...<br />
***If you really knew me, you'd know how complicated my sexual feelings are and how a large part of that comes from the complete dysfunctionality and lack of boundaries my parents had in our family when we were still all one family.CORootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14579526335845538150noreply@blogger.com0