I am a pretty happy person. I tend to be optimistic, although realistic, about life in general. As such, a few weeks prior to my deployment I started to get my head in the right place. Thinking about all the good things and postivie things that were going to come from this experience. One of those things, which may seem minor to some, is that I got to be away from any children for a full 6 months. That has been great. Love it.
However, being someplace without any children has one drawback that I never saw comming. When I (meaning me in particular) am someplace where there are no children, I become the smallest thing walking around the joint. When I first got here, people would stare and laugh and I didn't quite understand why. I was very self-concious. Was my reflective belt on wrong? Did my PT shose have too much pink in them? Am I walking crooked? I had no idea what was wrong and I was none too happy about it.
Then a few days ago I was standing by a sink, washing my hands, and two army women were standing next to me. I hear the all too familiar giggling and one of them say "No, don't say anything to her!" and the other, much to the dismay of her friend says to me, "I am sooo sorry to stare, but I just have to ask...how short are you?" So that's it. Got it. "4 feet 9 inches." I smile as I walk away listening to the "Oh my god" and "Wow!" as I go.
Since then, many more people than I ever really imagined would even care have acutally stopped staring long enough to ask me the same question. I am not sure why they all have asked me how "short" I am as opposed to how "tall" I am. It used to be "tall". Maybe it is an army thing. I don't think anyone in the Air Force has asked yet. I have gotten pretty good at deciphering when people are laughing at me as opposed to just laughing in general when I walk by. Sometimes I will just say "4 foot 9" as I am walking and I will hear the table of 4, 5, or 6 people bust up laughing with "Damn! She heard you!" or whatever else they might be saying.
I have always had a pretty good sense of humor about my height. It's good to know they are staring at me because I am short and it wasn't that my reflective belt was all askew or something tragic like that.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Hashimoto's
If you are like me, you probably thought that Hashimoto's was just was me misspelling an atomic bomb location in Japan. However, it is not. Hashimoto's is an auto-immune disorder. Named for the physician who first discovered it. From my readings (as a non-medical professional), an autoimmune disorder is when your body turns on itself. Your immune system attacks an otherwise healthy organ (or something) as if it is an enemy and tries to destroy it. In the case of Hashimoto's, your body's organ of choice is your thyroid.
Hashimoto's itself does not cause symptoms. What causes symptoms is the destruction of your thyroid. As your thyroid is being attacked it's function slows down, and your symptoms are those of a thyroid which can no longer function effectively because it has come under attack (it is a losing fight). THOSE symptoms sucks socks.
For years I figured these symptoms were just a fluke and would go away on their own eventually. Maybe if I changed my diet and exercised more, life would improve. After all, that is the answer to everything now a days, right? Diet and exercise. I gave it a shot. For several years. I began to think, maybe if I step out of my house with the right foot instead of my left foot every morning, things would improve (A joke, people. Come on.). Sometimes, as is the case with Hashimoto's, my thyroid would kick into gear and I would drop weight suddenly and my hair would stop falling out, and my need to sleep during the day finally went away and I would think FINALLY the exercise and fewer calories are starting to work! Then, just as suddenly as it came on, it would go away. I knew I wasn't doing anything differently. Still, I blamed myself. Where else could I look to blame, right?
When I was first told that I had this I figured no big deal. I was grateful that my provider was astute enough to actually LOOK for it and run a test specifically for Hashimoto's (none of which I knew she did until I had an appointment to go over the results). If nothing else, I felt somewhat validated because it put a real reason why all my working out and eating less had not resulted in weight loss (and actually I gained weight. A LOT OF IT). She put me on medication and I fully expected my life (and my weight) would just return to normal. Boy was I wrong.
You would not believe all the things your thyroid does. It plays a significant role in several of your body's functions. Your metabolism (and not in a good way as explained above), your body temperature (unless you really enjoy being cold all the time, this is not in a good way either), your energy level (unless you really didn't have anything better to do during the day than sleep because you just can't stay awake, this one pretty much sucks too). And several other things that simply cause vanity woes (pale skin, hair falling out, eyebrows fall out, etc.). From what I have read, many people suffer from depression with this as well. I am NOT one of those unlucky ones. Don't get me wrong, I am fat, cold, uncomfortable and sleepy all the time, but I am still a happy person. I swear I am!
I am not an activist, or a commiserative person, really. I think I just needed to write it out. Now that I am about 7 months into this, and the reality that my symptoms may never go away, I am angry about it. Not angry about LIFE, just about Hashimoto's.
I am leaving for deployment in the next couple of weeks and when I get back, I am going to try an alternative, homeopathic medication, to see if I can get symptom relief. I am really looking forward to giving it a shot. Of course, I am an optimist anyway, so I always think the 'next' thing I try is going to work. I have faith!! This time, it is going to work! It IS going to work...right?
Hashimoto's itself does not cause symptoms. What causes symptoms is the destruction of your thyroid. As your thyroid is being attacked it's function slows down, and your symptoms are those of a thyroid which can no longer function effectively because it has come under attack (it is a losing fight). THOSE symptoms sucks socks.
For years I figured these symptoms were just a fluke and would go away on their own eventually. Maybe if I changed my diet and exercised more, life would improve. After all, that is the answer to everything now a days, right? Diet and exercise. I gave it a shot. For several years. I began to think, maybe if I step out of my house with the right foot instead of my left foot every morning, things would improve (A joke, people. Come on.). Sometimes, as is the case with Hashimoto's, my thyroid would kick into gear and I would drop weight suddenly and my hair would stop falling out, and my need to sleep during the day finally went away and I would think FINALLY the exercise and fewer calories are starting to work! Then, just as suddenly as it came on, it would go away. I knew I wasn't doing anything differently. Still, I blamed myself. Where else could I look to blame, right?
When I was first told that I had this I figured no big deal. I was grateful that my provider was astute enough to actually LOOK for it and run a test specifically for Hashimoto's (none of which I knew she did until I had an appointment to go over the results). If nothing else, I felt somewhat validated because it put a real reason why all my working out and eating less had not resulted in weight loss (and actually I gained weight. A LOT OF IT). She put me on medication and I fully expected my life (and my weight) would just return to normal. Boy was I wrong.
You would not believe all the things your thyroid does. It plays a significant role in several of your body's functions. Your metabolism (and not in a good way as explained above), your body temperature (unless you really enjoy being cold all the time, this is not in a good way either), your energy level (unless you really didn't have anything better to do during the day than sleep because you just can't stay awake, this one pretty much sucks too). And several other things that simply cause vanity woes (pale skin, hair falling out, eyebrows fall out, etc.). From what I have read, many people suffer from depression with this as well. I am NOT one of those unlucky ones. Don't get me wrong, I am fat, cold, uncomfortable and sleepy all the time, but I am still a happy person. I swear I am!
I am not an activist, or a commiserative person, really. I think I just needed to write it out. Now that I am about 7 months into this, and the reality that my symptoms may never go away, I am angry about it. Not angry about LIFE, just about Hashimoto's.
I am leaving for deployment in the next couple of weeks and when I get back, I am going to try an alternative, homeopathic medication, to see if I can get symptom relief. I am really looking forward to giving it a shot. Of course, I am an optimist anyway, so I always think the 'next' thing I try is going to work. I have faith!! This time, it is going to work! It IS going to work...right?
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Crime and punishment
Getting a ticket sucks. Based on that statement, you would think that I am about to gripe about having just gotten a ticket. However, I am not. I didn't get a ticket. Didn't even get pulled over.
But Eric and I were driving down the highway and saw some poor guy who did get pulled over and it got me thinking. I am sure that what I am about to talk about is not a new thought. It is probably as old as getting tickets themselves, but I am a little slower than the average bear so I am just now putting two and two together.
The punishment for getting a ticket does not fit the crime. Not even close. The punishment for getting a ticket is so much worse than the 'crime' of speeding that I cannot believe that they are still allowed to hand out such punishments willy-nilly.
Think about this for a moment. You are driving down a road where the speed limit is 60. You are cruising along at, say 69 MPH. Criminal! Yes, here in NC they will pull you over in a heartbeat for going 5-10 MPH over the speed limit. You look in your rear view mirror and see those dastardly blue lights. Which might actually be pretty if it weren't for the message they are giving you.
You give the trooper your best plea for mercy. "But officer, my dog bit me and I have ice cream in the back seat and I lost my job and had a fight with my husband and the economy has me stressed and Kagen is now on the Supreme Court and it made me sleep late this morning and I couldn't get to Starbucks before 7am..." All this pleading because you were going 9 MPH over the speed limit. You criminal.
But do you know WHY you are pleading? You are pleading with the probably really hot, but effin' heartless trooper because you know you are going to PAY for this ticket. You are going to pay dearly. The ticket you are now holding in your pissed off little digits is going to haunt you. FOR YEARS.
You will not only be paying well over $100 dollars for the ticket itself, but you will likely decide to go to court to try and get the ticket thrown out. Maybe the cop wont show up! Yeah! No WAY he'll show up! Guess what? He doesn't have to show up. Now you don't just have to pay for the ticket but you have to pay for court costs too. Now your cost is up to $224. Sigh. But wait...there's more...about 3 months later, when you have forgotten that you even got pulled over, you get a notice from your insurance company that your rates are going up by 25% because you were speeding. For the next 3 years. It would have been 35% but since you were doing less than 10 MPH over the speed limit they are going to cut you a break. Oh THANK YOU dear insurance company!
So, for going 9 MPH over the speed limit, when you figure in all the costs to include the increase in your insurance premiums, you are out well over $1000 dollars and on probation for 3 years. And that ticket stays on your record and follows you around for countless years afterwards.
Penalty for possession of 1 ounce of marijuana in the state of Colorado: "One ounce or less is a petty offense that requires a court appearance but with no incarceration and a maximum fine of $100."
How does that feel, you criminal?
But Eric and I were driving down the highway and saw some poor guy who did get pulled over and it got me thinking. I am sure that what I am about to talk about is not a new thought. It is probably as old as getting tickets themselves, but I am a little slower than the average bear so I am just now putting two and two together.
The punishment for getting a ticket does not fit the crime. Not even close. The punishment for getting a ticket is so much worse than the 'crime' of speeding that I cannot believe that they are still allowed to hand out such punishments willy-nilly.
Think about this for a moment. You are driving down a road where the speed limit is 60. You are cruising along at, say 69 MPH. Criminal! Yes, here in NC they will pull you over in a heartbeat for going 5-10 MPH over the speed limit. You look in your rear view mirror and see those dastardly blue lights. Which might actually be pretty if it weren't for the message they are giving you.
You give the trooper your best plea for mercy. "But officer, my dog bit me and I have ice cream in the back seat and I lost my job and had a fight with my husband and the economy has me stressed and Kagen is now on the Supreme Court and it made me sleep late this morning and I couldn't get to Starbucks before 7am..." All this pleading because you were going 9 MPH over the speed limit. You criminal.
But do you know WHY you are pleading? You are pleading with the probably really hot, but effin' heartless trooper because you know you are going to PAY for this ticket. You are going to pay dearly. The ticket you are now holding in your pissed off little digits is going to haunt you. FOR YEARS.
You will not only be paying well over $100 dollars for the ticket itself, but you will likely decide to go to court to try and get the ticket thrown out. Maybe the cop wont show up! Yeah! No WAY he'll show up! Guess what? He doesn't have to show up. Now you don't just have to pay for the ticket but you have to pay for court costs too. Now your cost is up to $224. Sigh. But wait...there's more...about 3 months later, when you have forgotten that you even got pulled over, you get a notice from your insurance company that your rates are going up by 25% because you were speeding. For the next 3 years. It would have been 35% but since you were doing less than 10 MPH over the speed limit they are going to cut you a break. Oh THANK YOU dear insurance company!
So, for going 9 MPH over the speed limit, when you figure in all the costs to include the increase in your insurance premiums, you are out well over $1000 dollars and on probation for 3 years. And that ticket stays on your record and follows you around for countless years afterwards.
Penalty for possession of 1 ounce of marijuana in the state of Colorado: "One ounce or less is a petty offense that requires a court appearance but with no incarceration and a maximum fine of $100."
How does that feel, you criminal?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Am I the problem?
I don't drink alcohol. It isn't some religious extremist declaration or anything. I don't like the smell of it, I don't like the taste of it, and most importantly my system doesn't react well to it. And not in a that's-what-happens-when-you-drink-too-much way, smart asses. I get very ill from very small amounts. As in, less than half a glass small.
With that in mind, it should be no surprise that it is only on the rare occasion that I buy alcohol either. My fiance Eric, on the other hand, has a passion for the hops. His taste in brew is as eclectic and far reaching as pallet of the most passionate wine connoisseur. Or, like I am with steak. :)
While Eric is deployed, he doesn't get to drink at all. So when he is just about to come home, I like to make sure he has a little somethin' somethin' in his fridge. I stock him up on the diet Dr. Pepper, make sure the tank on the gas grill is full, and I buy at least a little of one of the beer's that he likes.
So I go to Target today. And, surprise surprise, they happen to have the beer I was looking for on their shelves! Bonus! So I go up to the register with my milk, bread, liquid plumber and the beer. The cashier looks at it and says "Is that alcohol?". I say yes it is. And I get momentarily excited because I think this is going to be a you-look-too-young-to-buy-liquor conversation. However, my mood quickly heads south when she says to me "Blue Law". I didn't understand what she said so I asked her to repeat it. Again, she says "Blue Law". I am standing there, clueless, and she apparently picked up on my confusion. She says to me "You must not be from North Carolina. It is against the law to sell alcohol to anyone before 2pm on Sundays." I was shocked. I am standing there with my mouth open, feeling like some derelict, raging alcoholic, who was trying to pull a fast one in defiance of some right-wing religious extremist North Carolina law. Trust me, that is exactly the look she was giving me, too. Poor little raging alcoholic. So addicted to the poison that she has to have it before 2pm on a Sunday. Tsk tsk tsk.
Of all the people in the world to make that mistake, it has to be me, right? The one freakin' person in this state who never drinks anything, never buys alcohol, and generally speaking really can't stand people who do, I am the one who gets busted, and subsequently denied, trying to buy it.
What's worse is I actually FELT embarrassed and ashamed! Then I was pissed off at myself for feeling like that! I don't have anything to be ashamed about! All I wanted to do was buy something special for my fiance who is coming back from the war and deserves to have it waiting for him when he gets home! Am I wrong, here? Is it just me who feels like the fact that a law like that even exists is just effin' stupid?
Try this one, North Carolina (and any other effin' state that has the same kind of stupid law), if a person wants to drink themselves to death before 2pm on a Sunday, it ain't up to you to save 'em. Let Darwin take care of their liver damaged sorry asses. But don't tell me when I can and can't buy alcohol.
With that in mind, it should be no surprise that it is only on the rare occasion that I buy alcohol either. My fiance Eric, on the other hand, has a passion for the hops. His taste in brew is as eclectic and far reaching as pallet of the most passionate wine connoisseur. Or, like I am with steak. :)
While Eric is deployed, he doesn't get to drink at all. So when he is just about to come home, I like to make sure he has a little somethin' somethin' in his fridge. I stock him up on the diet Dr. Pepper, make sure the tank on the gas grill is full, and I buy at least a little of one of the beer's that he likes.
So I go to Target today. And, surprise surprise, they happen to have the beer I was looking for on their shelves! Bonus! So I go up to the register with my milk, bread, liquid plumber and the beer. The cashier looks at it and says "Is that alcohol?". I say yes it is. And I get momentarily excited because I think this is going to be a you-look-too-young-to-buy-liquor conversation. However, my mood quickly heads south when she says to me "Blue Law". I didn't understand what she said so I asked her to repeat it. Again, she says "Blue Law". I am standing there, clueless, and she apparently picked up on my confusion. She says to me "You must not be from North Carolina. It is against the law to sell alcohol to anyone before 2pm on Sundays." I was shocked. I am standing there with my mouth open, feeling like some derelict, raging alcoholic, who was trying to pull a fast one in defiance of some right-wing religious extremist North Carolina law. Trust me, that is exactly the look she was giving me, too. Poor little raging alcoholic. So addicted to the poison that she has to have it before 2pm on a Sunday. Tsk tsk tsk.
Of all the people in the world to make that mistake, it has to be me, right? The one freakin' person in this state who never drinks anything, never buys alcohol, and generally speaking really can't stand people who do, I am the one who gets busted, and subsequently denied, trying to buy it.
What's worse is I actually FELT embarrassed and ashamed! Then I was pissed off at myself for feeling like that! I don't have anything to be ashamed about! All I wanted to do was buy something special for my fiance who is coming back from the war and deserves to have it waiting for him when he gets home! Am I wrong, here? Is it just me who feels like the fact that a law like that even exists is just effin' stupid?
Try this one, North Carolina (and any other effin' state that has the same kind of stupid law), if a person wants to drink themselves to death before 2pm on a Sunday, it ain't up to you to save 'em. Let Darwin take care of their liver damaged sorry asses. But don't tell me when I can and can't buy alcohol.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Dream of Independence
For my entire life I have worked. I have worked FOR someone since I was 12 years old. Forever dependent on someone else to pay my salary so that I can live in the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed. And love my life, I do.
I grew up with a father who was determined to be his own boss. As someone who worked for him, I saw the struggles which never seemed to end. I did the bookkeeping for his plastics/decorating business starting when I was, as I said earlier, 12 years old. Even at that young age, I had a grasp on how hard it was for him to make ends meet. His business was a tough one. His product didn't sell itself by any stretch of the imagination. It was a constant struggle for sales. Cold calls, long hours, zero benefit. As a result, I always swore I would never go into business for myself. I knew very early on that I was NOT a salesman. I knew that I could never work at a job that was straight commission. Hell, I didn't even want to work in a job that was PART commission. I have a fear of being without a paycheck. As such, I had sort of resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to be someone else's bitch for the rest of my life. Good enough. Or was it?
The older I get, the more I realize that working FOR someone sucks. A lot. I have always been independent, and I resent the fact that I am dependent on someone else for my money.
A couple of years ago I made a decision that once I am out of the military I will never work for anyone again. I (we) will own our own business, be it a franchise or something else. It has changed my perspective. Sometimes, when I am having a lousy day at work, and I think about throwing in the military towel, I remember my promise to myself never to work for anyone again. It makes me smile, but it also keeps me grounded. I can't just leave the military because I can't afford to (resentment enters here). I will not do it until I can fulfill the promise to myself to never work for someone else again. But it is going to take nine more years until I will be able to get out with a full retirement and benefits for the rest of my life. THEN, when I buy our franchise or whatever else it may be, and I fail miserably, I will still have a paycheck to fall back on. But I won't be dependent on someone else. Ever again.
I grew up with a father who was determined to be his own boss. As someone who worked for him, I saw the struggles which never seemed to end. I did the bookkeeping for his plastics/decorating business starting when I was, as I said earlier, 12 years old. Even at that young age, I had a grasp on how hard it was for him to make ends meet. His business was a tough one. His product didn't sell itself by any stretch of the imagination. It was a constant struggle for sales. Cold calls, long hours, zero benefit. As a result, I always swore I would never go into business for myself. I knew very early on that I was NOT a salesman. I knew that I could never work at a job that was straight commission. Hell, I didn't even want to work in a job that was PART commission. I have a fear of being without a paycheck. As such, I had sort of resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to be someone else's bitch for the rest of my life. Good enough. Or was it?
The older I get, the more I realize that working FOR someone sucks. A lot. I have always been independent, and I resent the fact that I am dependent on someone else for my money.
A couple of years ago I made a decision that once I am out of the military I will never work for anyone again. I (we) will own our own business, be it a franchise or something else. It has changed my perspective. Sometimes, when I am having a lousy day at work, and I think about throwing in the military towel, I remember my promise to myself never to work for anyone again. It makes me smile, but it also keeps me grounded. I can't just leave the military because I can't afford to (resentment enters here). I will not do it until I can fulfill the promise to myself to never work for someone else again. But it is going to take nine more years until I will be able to get out with a full retirement and benefits for the rest of my life. THEN, when I buy our franchise or whatever else it may be, and I fail miserably, I will still have a paycheck to fall back on. But I won't be dependent on someone else. Ever again.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Outback Steakhouse disapoints...again
Anyone who knows me knows that I love Outback Steakhouse. I eat at Outback at least twice a week. I am a bit of a steak snob having been to many fantastic steak houses in the country (and around the world for that matter)and been fortunate enough to have tasted some of the best filets out there.
With all that said, I was always so thrilled with the quality of steak (namely the filet) that I would get at an Outback. This was surprising because not only is it a family place, but it is a CHAIN! The same can be said for Ruth's Chris, I suppose (minus the family for the most part), but that is a different caliber of restaurant and one would expect to get great steak for the price you pay at a Ruth's Chris.
But Outback was one of those restaurants that I could go to anywhere I may travel and get the same quality every time. Same great salad, same great bread, same great filets.
Being in the military, I move around a lot, sometimes for 3 years, sometimes for 3 months. No matter where I end up, one of the first things I did was look up the nearest Outback. Coming here to Goldsboro, North Carolina was no different. Sure enough, there was an Outback here and I was SO happy. Mostly because this is a really tiny town and the choices of places to eat are few. Places for decent steak...even fewer.
Over the past 3 or 4 months, the quality of everything from the bread, to the salad, and especially the steak has just gotten worse and worse. They changed the type of salad they use from what used to be fresh, to what tastes like a bag salad with dry carrot slices and purple shredded cabbage. Yucko! The honey wheat bread, which was always very good, has been coming out less than hot to downright cold. When we ask for new bread, what comes out is not all that much better. The steaks are what really let down, though. I used to get a consistent, tender filet that I could quite literally cut with my fork. Now, only about 1 out of every 7 or 8 times I visit is the steak good enough for me to really enjoy. I feel badly sending it back every time, because what comes back is never much better so I stopped sending it back. I keep ordering it though because I am always so hopeful that they will come through for me this time.
I am even a member of Outback Rewards and then I fill out those surveys (that give you a free bloomin' Onion for filling out!) and I always tell them about the issues. It has not improved.
I hate to think this, but I don't want to go back to Outback anymore. That bothers me because when it is good it is SO good! I always make sure on Outback days that I don't eat lunch. That way me (and even the people I go with) are nice and hungry by the time we get there. But I really think I only have a few more chances left in my heart for you dear Outback. I really don't want to start learning how to cook my own steak. That borders on sac-relig.
Anyone else having the same experience I am?
With all that said, I was always so thrilled with the quality of steak (namely the filet) that I would get at an Outback. This was surprising because not only is it a family place, but it is a CHAIN! The same can be said for Ruth's Chris, I suppose (minus the family for the most part), but that is a different caliber of restaurant and one would expect to get great steak for the price you pay at a Ruth's Chris.
But Outback was one of those restaurants that I could go to anywhere I may travel and get the same quality every time. Same great salad, same great bread, same great filets.
Being in the military, I move around a lot, sometimes for 3 years, sometimes for 3 months. No matter where I end up, one of the first things I did was look up the nearest Outback. Coming here to Goldsboro, North Carolina was no different. Sure enough, there was an Outback here and I was SO happy. Mostly because this is a really tiny town and the choices of places to eat are few. Places for decent steak...even fewer.
Over the past 3 or 4 months, the quality of everything from the bread, to the salad, and especially the steak has just gotten worse and worse. They changed the type of salad they use from what used to be fresh, to what tastes like a bag salad with dry carrot slices and purple shredded cabbage. Yucko! The honey wheat bread, which was always very good, has been coming out less than hot to downright cold. When we ask for new bread, what comes out is not all that much better. The steaks are what really let down, though. I used to get a consistent, tender filet that I could quite literally cut with my fork. Now, only about 1 out of every 7 or 8 times I visit is the steak good enough for me to really enjoy. I feel badly sending it back every time, because what comes back is never much better so I stopped sending it back. I keep ordering it though because I am always so hopeful that they will come through for me this time.
I am even a member of Outback Rewards and then I fill out those surveys (that give you a free bloomin' Onion for filling out!) and I always tell them about the issues. It has not improved.
I hate to think this, but I don't want to go back to Outback anymore. That bothers me because when it is good it is SO good! I always make sure on Outback days that I don't eat lunch. That way me (and even the people I go with) are nice and hungry by the time we get there. But I really think I only have a few more chances left in my heart for you dear Outback. I really don't want to start learning how to cook my own steak. That borders on sac-relig.
Anyone else having the same experience I am?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Thoughts on Mother's day
Eric and I went to a mall in Raleigh this afternoon to meet with/interview a DJ for our wedding. While there I couldn't help but notice just how many men were out at the mall with children in tow, sans women. Enough for me, a person who makes it a point NOT to notice much of anything dealing with children, to notice the oddity. I began to wonder if it was just a fluke. Perhaps today was National Chester-the-molester-takes-their-kid-to-the-mall day. I then remembered it was Mother's day. Funny how all a mother seems to want on this Mother's day is to NOT be a mother. Not deal with their kids. Not cook any meals. Not do any of the things for which this day was invented to give thanks for. Get rid of the kids, pawn them off on anyone willing to take 'em, right? Well good for you. Hear that silence? Feel the peace within the walls of your home as you drift easily out from your slumber and start your day with the peaceful tranquility that can only be achieved by having a house free from children. Ahhh....welcome to my world. I get that every single day. Jealous much?
In all seriousness, I know enough about what a mother has to go through to be a successful parent to know that there is no way in hell that you would ever catch me doing it. There are some people who would call me selfish, but make no mistake, there is ZERO selfish about taking care of oneself. No one else is going to do it. Selfish is having children then being unwilling to do what it takes to be an effective, loving parent.
I find it hard to believe that it has been 12 years since my own mom passed away. This was a woman who successfully and lovingly raised two children of her own to adulthood, then turned around and married a man with three young children and adopted us as her own. This is the woman who had already gone through the years of making chicken soup from scratch to ease the tummy of her sick little ones, to start doing it all over again. This was a woman who already dealt with first periods, first dates, broken hearts and broken bones. This was a woman who had already broken up countless sibling fights, cooked countless homemade meals and cleaned countless sinks full of dishes to turn around and go practically back to the starting line to do it all again with my brother my sister and myself. And she did it with such passion, gusto, and love, that it never once occurred to me that she never had to do any of it. I think of my mom every single day. I am thankful to have had her for the years that I did. Most of all I am eternally grateful for the mother that she was, but especially for the mom she didn't have to be. I love you mom. And give a shout out to dad for me too.
In all seriousness, I know enough about what a mother has to go through to be a successful parent to know that there is no way in hell that you would ever catch me doing it. There are some people who would call me selfish, but make no mistake, there is ZERO selfish about taking care of oneself. No one else is going to do it. Selfish is having children then being unwilling to do what it takes to be an effective, loving parent.
I find it hard to believe that it has been 12 years since my own mom passed away. This was a woman who successfully and lovingly raised two children of her own to adulthood, then turned around and married a man with three young children and adopted us as her own. This is the woman who had already gone through the years of making chicken soup from scratch to ease the tummy of her sick little ones, to start doing it all over again. This was a woman who already dealt with first periods, first dates, broken hearts and broken bones. This was a woman who had already broken up countless sibling fights, cooked countless homemade meals and cleaned countless sinks full of dishes to turn around and go practically back to the starting line to do it all again with my brother my sister and myself. And she did it with such passion, gusto, and love, that it never once occurred to me that she never had to do any of it. I think of my mom every single day. I am thankful to have had her for the years that I did. Most of all I am eternally grateful for the mother that she was, but especially for the mom she didn't have to be. I love you mom. And give a shout out to dad for me too.
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