Friday, June 14, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
9 Years of Reconciling Grief and Joy
9 years ago today, something awful happened.
Because of that something awful, 9 years ago today, something extraordinary happened, too.
9 years ago, I had graduated high school. I had been flirting with this amazing guy that I worked with, and his interest seemed reciprocated. I had some awesome friends that I would miss terribly, leaving them behind to finish their high school journey as I embarked on mine to become a real adult.
On June 13th, 2004, I spent the day goofing off with my friends. We hung out, played video games, watched movies. I had plans to stay the night with them, until I got a text message. The guy I was interested in was free that night. Did I want to hang out after he got off work? Maybe go see a movie?
Uhm, D'UH!
Did my parents need to know? Nah. They knew I'd be out, and that was good enough. After all, I was 18 now. An ADULT.
Off I flew to this guy's house, after creating a cover story with my friends, just in case my parents called while I was gone (I was out getting cupcakes, btw). That whole being an adult thing still needed a little work. My phone rang a few times, but I missed it because I was smoking and listening to my ridiculously loud techno music.
I pulled up in front of his house, tried to dumb down the shit-eating grin I had on my face, and, as I walked up the stairs, he opened the front door. He had a bowl of spaghetti in one hand... I'll always remember that for some reason. As he told me that my friend had called him while I was on my way over and that my parents needed me home immediately, I fixated on that bowl of spaghetti. 'Was something wrong?' It sounded like it. 'Oh.' You have my number, call me when you know what's up and maybe we can still do something later.
Back to my friend's house I raced to grab my things and give my parents a quick call. 'Sorry, yeah, out getting cupcakes. Just noticed the missed calls. What's up?' Something bad happened and we need you at home. 'Is everyone okay?' Just come home, we'll talk when you get here.
A 20 minute drive becomes a nightmare when you're left with such non-information as that. Did someone get in a wreck? Is someone in the hospital? Someone's house burn down? Dog get run over?
These are awful things to ponder in a car by yourself, driving down lonely rural roads.
When I pulled up our driveway, my family was sitting in camping chairs in the yard. I did a quick count of the 4 of them, mom, dad, brother, sister, and the anxiety disappeared for an instant before returning.
I don't remember specifics of what was said... But, I do remember my mom holding a big, stuffed Tigger doll while she told me that my favorite Uncle, her only brother, had been found with his dog that afternoon, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
He loved Ren and Stimpy.
His favorite childhood character was Tigger.
He smoked Camels.
He was an amazing gardener.
He had a piranha that he decided to stuff and mount when his (eventual ex) girlfriend decided it creeped her out.
He drove semi-trucks for a living.
He called his dog everything but his given name.
That dog was his world. He chose not to leave the world without his one ever-devoted companion.
He was 38.
He had struggled with drugs forever.
He had tried to leave us before, but intervention only seemed to make his conviction stronger.
9 years ago today, something awful happened.
Because of that something awful, 9 years ago today, something extraordinary happened, too.
After a while, the phone rang. It was that wonderful guy, checking to see if everything was okay.
I told him what happened. I cried. He listened. He listened for a long time.
For weeks afterwards, he held me when I would suddenly start crying. He saw me snotty, puffy faced, and red eyed, and continued to call me and ask to see me again. He'd listen to me just talk. He came to visit me when I was getting the tattoo in memory of my Uncle and his dog.
This amazing guy was there when my family went through the biggest emotional upheaval it had ever experienced, and it didn't scare him away.
9 years later, he's still with me.
He still holds me when I cry.
He understands what I need when he catches me listening to this song:
Today, I grieve a loss.
Today, I celebrate what that loss sparked.
And I wish my Uncle was here to see it.
If you or someone you know is in crisis, please don't hesitate to call. There is always help.
Because of that something awful, 9 years ago today, something extraordinary happened, too.
9 years ago, I had graduated high school. I had been flirting with this amazing guy that I worked with, and his interest seemed reciprocated. I had some awesome friends that I would miss terribly, leaving them behind to finish their high school journey as I embarked on mine to become a real adult.
On June 13th, 2004, I spent the day goofing off with my friends. We hung out, played video games, watched movies. I had plans to stay the night with them, until I got a text message. The guy I was interested in was free that night. Did I want to hang out after he got off work? Maybe go see a movie?
Uhm, D'UH!
Did my parents need to know? Nah. They knew I'd be out, and that was good enough. After all, I was 18 now. An ADULT.
Off I flew to this guy's house, after creating a cover story with my friends, just in case my parents called while I was gone (I was out getting cupcakes, btw). That whole being an adult thing still needed a little work. My phone rang a few times, but I missed it because I was smoking and listening to my ridiculously loud techno music.
I pulled up in front of his house, tried to dumb down the shit-eating grin I had on my face, and, as I walked up the stairs, he opened the front door. He had a bowl of spaghetti in one hand... I'll always remember that for some reason. As he told me that my friend had called him while I was on my way over and that my parents needed me home immediately, I fixated on that bowl of spaghetti. 'Was something wrong?' It sounded like it. 'Oh.' You have my number, call me when you know what's up and maybe we can still do something later.
Back to my friend's house I raced to grab my things and give my parents a quick call. 'Sorry, yeah, out getting cupcakes. Just noticed the missed calls. What's up?' Something bad happened and we need you at home. 'Is everyone okay?' Just come home, we'll talk when you get here.
A 20 minute drive becomes a nightmare when you're left with such non-information as that. Did someone get in a wreck? Is someone in the hospital? Someone's house burn down? Dog get run over?
These are awful things to ponder in a car by yourself, driving down lonely rural roads.
When I pulled up our driveway, my family was sitting in camping chairs in the yard. I did a quick count of the 4 of them, mom, dad, brother, sister, and the anxiety disappeared for an instant before returning.
I don't remember specifics of what was said... But, I do remember my mom holding a big, stuffed Tigger doll while she told me that my favorite Uncle, her only brother, had been found with his dog that afternoon, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
He loved Ren and Stimpy.
His favorite childhood character was Tigger.
He smoked Camels.
He was an amazing gardener.
He had a piranha that he decided to stuff and mount when his (eventual ex) girlfriend decided it creeped her out.
He drove semi-trucks for a living.
He called his dog everything but his given name.
That dog was his world. He chose not to leave the world without his one ever-devoted companion.
He was 38.
He had struggled with drugs forever.
He had tried to leave us before, but intervention only seemed to make his conviction stronger.
9 years ago today, something awful happened.
Because of that something awful, 9 years ago today, something extraordinary happened, too.
After a while, the phone rang. It was that wonderful guy, checking to see if everything was okay.
I told him what happened. I cried. He listened. He listened for a long time.
For weeks afterwards, he held me when I would suddenly start crying. He saw me snotty, puffy faced, and red eyed, and continued to call me and ask to see me again. He'd listen to me just talk. He came to visit me when I was getting the tattoo in memory of my Uncle and his dog.
This amazing guy was there when my family went through the biggest emotional upheaval it had ever experienced, and it didn't scare him away.
9 years later, he's still with me.
He still holds me when I cry.
He understands what I need when he catches me listening to this song:
Today, I grieve a loss.
Today, I celebrate what that loss sparked.
And I wish my Uncle was here to see it.
 |
| My Uncle's pendant and my wedding bouquet. |
If you or someone you know is in crisis, please don't hesitate to call. There is always help.
1-800-273-TALK (8255)
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Someone Order a Maternity Test
Last weekend Cabin Girl performed with her ballet company in the city arts department's rendition of James and the Giant Peach. I volunteered backstage, but she has 2 more performances this coming weekend, one of which I get to watch, so expect a full post full of glitter and tutus early next week.
Anyway, since I couldn't watch, and no one was there to give her flowers, I decided to grab her a treat on our way home afterwards Saturday.
She chose Starburst.
And then, after eating the first one, offering a piece to me, giving her dad and brother a piece, this happened:
This is the child thatMADE encouraged me to eat an entire turtle cheesecake a week, by myself (really; so much as look at my cheesecake, and I will eat your face), every week of the 3rd trimester from within the womb. I would down 32 ounces of blueberry Italian soda on my way to work, every morning.
And now she's content to let candy sit in the cupboard, taunting the rest of the family, for DAYS?!
It's a sad morning when you realize you have less willpower than a not-quite 7 year old.
Anyway, since I couldn't watch, and no one was there to give her flowers, I decided to grab her a treat on our way home afterwards Saturday.
She chose Starburst.
And then, after eating the first one, offering a piece to me, giving her dad and brother a piece, this happened:
This is the child that
And now she's content to let candy sit in the cupboard, taunting the rest of the family, for DAYS?!
It's a sad morning when you realize you have less willpower than a not-quite 7 year old.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Sunscreen and Charcoal
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Unless...
...you have boys.
Then, they become a happy painting alternative.
Until the soap comes into play.
Then no one's having fun anymore.
But, we did learn that sunscreen is much harder to wash off than charcoal. You know... if you get the waterproof kind.
Friday, June 7, 2013
It's Not Just a Belly
WARNING:
This post contains bare bellies, women in their skivvies, and partial nudity.
If you are not a fan of the female form, click elsewhere.
When I met the Captain I was a smoking, bulimic 17 year old working in an ice cream shop. I had grown up being taunted about my size, height, skin tone and texture, nose... you name it. My nicknames were 'chicken skin' and 'amazon.' Being taller than most boys did nothing to make this girl feel feminine, and by the time they were finally taller than me, they had seen me through all the extra awkward stages and had written me off. And to a developing girl, that was devastating.
Before getting pregnant with Cabin Girl at 19, I had overcome my bulimia and quit smoking thanks to the Captain, but I gained weight. Once Cabin Girl was born, I was consistently hovering close to 200 pounds and I was ashamed and embarrassed of my post-baby body. Truth be told, I considered bulimia again. I researched miracle stretch mark creams. I mentally beat myself down a path of self destruction that destroyed the tiny bit of self esteem I had gained from the Captain's steady strength and love. At a point of rejuvenation I walked into a Victoria's Secret hoping to get a bit of feel-good back into my everyday life and was turned away, told that "larger women generally have bigger breasts, so we don't carry anything in your size." The wash of high school feelings of insignificance returned.
After a miscarriage, a year of totally messed up hormones, varying levels of depression, and a round of Clomid we conceived Cabin Boy #1. Still overweight, I let my body take the lead and gained even more weight, but I didn't stress too much because that's what my body was supposed to be doing.
I didn't take bare belly shots during either of those pregnancies. I was ashamed of my expanding body. Disgusted by my purple stretch marks. Embarrassed that I had to wear XL/XXL sized maternity clothes. I was the exact opposite of what I had learned to be attractive.
Cabin Boy #1 had serious allergy issues and failed to thrive on breast milk alone. I changed my diet to see if it would help him and subsequently lost a lot of weight. I felt good. I started running. I felt happy. I started to enjoy the curves that motherhood had bestowed upon me. Captain and I enjoyed rediscovering the connection we had without the fog of my insecurities getting in the way.
Once again, we miscarried. Then, we unexpectedly became pregnant with Cabin Boy #2. We were anticipating more hormonal troubles and weren't as careful with birth control as we could have been after deciding to wait a few months longer after the miscarriage. But, we were happy.
During my pregnancy with Cabin Boy #2 I made a new friend. A friend that *gasp* took pictures of her BARE BELLY. While pregnant! With stretchmarks! She was PROUD to show the world the amazing feat her body was going through.
She encouraged me to do the same, so I did... and I've never looked back.
 |
| My very first belly picture (Cabin Boy #2) and my most recent belly picture (The Kraken). |
This pregnancy, I am OWNING my belly. Because, you know what?
 |
| 39 weeks with Cabin Boy #2 |
I talk to Cabin Girl about how awesome I think it is that my body keeps growing as The Kraken is growing. How proud I am of each and every purple mark that my body made while stretching to fit her, her big healthy brothers, and this baby we're all eager to meet. We talk about how strong my body is, being able to make this 4th life while caring for the other three it carried.
Because I don't want her to be ashamed of what becoming a woman means. I don't want her to be devastated by the changes her potential future babies may bring to her body. I want her to glory in the beauty that is pregnancy, whether it's hers or the women surrounding her.
Most especially, I don't want her to think that I blame them for any issues I have with the body that motherhood has bestowed upon me.
And I am not alone. These moms are also choosing to bare their bellies. Every one of them has a perfect reason why!
 |
| "Cherishing my belly because this is our 4th pregnancy, and we finally made it to the second trimester!" |
 | ||
| "I chose to bare my belly because I was proud of what my body was doing. I was growing another human being in my belly! It still blows my mind a little. I've never felt more beautiful than when I was pregnant. I don't ever want to forget my big, gorgeous, belly-button-stretched-flat belly, because it gave me the greatest gift in the world - it started my family." Sara blogs over at You Are A Good Mama. Check her out! |
 |
| "I'm a photographer and get a lot of women wanting maternity pictures, but they don't want their bare bellies to show. It's as if they are embarrassed of them. I hate it! I think every pregnant belly is perfect and wonderful, no matter how small, big, hairy, lumpy or if they have stretchmarks. Now that I'm pregnant, I love lifting my shirt and showing family and friends my awesome, amazing miracle. I am so blessed to be 18 lbs heavier and covered in dark hair, and I am not afraid to show it." |
 |
| "I wanted my baby to have the photos later in life... However, on a deeper level, the strength and capability of the female body is absolutely amazing. We are vessels of life, there is no job more important. So why not be proud and show it off?!" |
 |
| "Being pregnant has been a very humbling experience for me. The body I used to have, and had all sorts of body image issues with, is gone, and it's not coming back. Which is freeing, as all those issues are now a moot point. I have a new body now, and after I have this baby, I'll have other issues to contend with. It's like getting a fresh start, and I'm taking advantage of it by getting used to my new skin and celebrating it." Chae is the burlesque performer "Kitty van Tassle" and blogs over at Bird Hearts Bear. See some awesome pictures of her pregnant burlesque show (bra and undies) here. |
 |
| "I want every woman to know that being pregnant is the most beautiful and amazing thing our bodies are capable of and I am not ashamed of how I look. I'm proud to say I'm over 200lbs and am growing these babies as best as I can! We as women have a tendency to compare ourselves in every arena and I want you all to know that I love and support every one of my beautiful and pregnant friends no matter their size. This is me being brave and showing you all of me...I love every inch and pound as should you." |
 |
| "I think it's beautiful when women bare their bellies during their pregnancies. It is something to embrace and share with the world, and it doesn't matter what size, shape, or condition your belly is in. I chose to bear my belly because I want everyone to feel like it's a beautiful thing, a beautiful step in our lives as women, and it should not be hidden!" |
 |
| "I wanted to take this pic because I have always been ashamed of my body. This pregnancy I realized how beautiful the process of creating life truly is, and wanted to remember how gorgeous my body was, full with child." Aubrey blogs, too! |
And last, but not least, my belly-love 'coach':
 |
| "I am a belly bearing mama because I feel that the female form is beautiful in all shapes, sizes, and stages of life. To me, my baby belly is beautiful and perfect and something to savor." Cynthia is a doula in Eastern Washington, providing pre and post-natal, breastfeeding, and birth support for new and expecting mothers. |
Monday, June 3, 2013
I forgive you.
You. Yes, you. The Holier-than-Thou, mom of the year runner up. I forgive you. For throwing stones at me from your glass house.
I don't pretend to be perfect. Ever. I'm actually pretty blunt about my follies as a parent, wife, and housekeeper. There are things that work for me and mine that you may never consider to try for you and yours. And that's ok. It's more than ok. It's perfect, because it's natural.
I don't know what you're trying to compensate for by attacking my choices. Sneering at the way I spend my free time. Pitying my children, because what you see of me is via social media.
Assuming that, because I blog and use several social media outlets simultaneously, my children are neglected or less loved than yours.
What you don't see between my internet activities is...
the ball pit wars,
And, because there's no way you could have known any of that unless I post about it on social media, I forgive you.
I hope that next time, instead of attempting to shame me for the outlets I choose to use on my me day and in my frequent and short spare moments, you choose to be kind and applaud me for having a passion other than my children.
There is no parenting contest. If there was, I can assure you there would be no winner.
UPDATE: Shortly after posting this, a fellow blogger brought this amazing piece by The Hands Free Mama to my attention. Here is an excerpt, but I encourage you to go read her full post. It. Is. Beautiful.
I don't pretend to be perfect. Ever. I'm actually pretty blunt about my follies as a parent, wife, and housekeeper. There are things that work for me and mine that you may never consider to try for you and yours. And that's ok. It's more than ok. It's perfect, because it's natural.
I don't know what you're trying to compensate for by attacking my choices. Sneering at the way I spend my free time. Pitying my children, because what you see of me is via social media.
Assuming that, because I blog and use several social media outlets simultaneously, my children are neglected or less loved than yours.
What you don't see between my internet activities is...
the food made from scratch,
the kisses on every toe during diaper changes,
the time I take to fix my daughter's hair in that day's requested style,
the stuffing of toys in shirts so we're all wearing 'babies,'
the load of cloth diapers just put in the wash,
the spills that are cleaned,
the scrapes that are bandaged,
the fights that are separated,
the little bodies crammed onto my every shrinking lap to watch silly things on the computer,
the talks about animals,
the pages that are colored,
the gentle games of indoor toss,
the nails that are painted,
the backs that are rubbed,
the books that are read,
the airplanes that are watched,
the bugs that are discovered,
the dishes that are washed and promptly dirtied again with more of that food made from scratch,
the flowers that are smelled,
the hiding places that are discovered,
the new words that are learned,
the songs that are sung,
that made from scratch food that is swept off the floor,
the pullups we practice,
the make believe meals that are brought to me,
the tantrums,
the budget balancing,
the puppet shows,
the stuff purging,
the failed attempts at taking a shower because I choose to spend time with my kids instead,
the walking 6 blocks to pick up my daughter from school and let my boys play,
the visits with our neighbors,
the jump roping,
the late nights I spent reading and gathering blogging material after all my household obligations are done,
the ball pit wars,
the piles of laundry folded,
the dance parties we have,
the fashion shows we're given,
the school functions we attend,
the naps we take,
the wet beds changed,
the innumerable bathroom breaks,
the movies that are watched together,
the play dates that are planned,
the games of pretend that are played,
the discussions I've had with my husband about choosing a day of the week for me to focus on the things that I enjoy doing besides mothering.
And, because there's no way you could have known any of that unless I post about it on social media, I forgive you.
I hope that next time, instead of attempting to shame me for the outlets I choose to use on my me day and in my frequent and short spare moments, you choose to be kind and applaud me for having a passion other than my children.
There is no parenting contest. If there was, I can assure you there would be no winner.
UPDATE: Shortly after posting this, a fellow blogger brought this amazing piece by The Hands Free Mama to my attention. Here is an excerpt, but I encourage you to go read her full post. It. Is. Beautiful.
"We need this validation. We need to know we’re doing something right.
We need to know our children are going to turn out okay despite it all.
We need to know love prevails over failures, flaws, and imperfect days.
Because sometimes the “experts,” the psychologists, the well-meaning
friends, the sweet ladies in line behind us at Starbucks, and the
critics inside our head suggest otherwise … making us feel like there is
more to it than just loving them."
Month of May- Monday Wrap-Up
Holy crap, it's June already!
Apparently, I need to stop blinking, because that's how fast the time goes.
Aside from celebrating our 7th wedding anniversary and hitting over 150 Facebook fans, this is what happened around the Pirate house and blog in May:
On my Facebook page, I shared articles on the Dangers of Processed Meats, how an amendment for GMO labeling was shot down in Congress, and that experimental GMO wheat has been discovered in US products.
This month, I posted a tutorial on how to bleach your own design onto a t-shirt: Kraken Maternity Tee
I wrote about why I won't be hiding the aspects of my person that some people may not like anymore: Just Be- About Me, the Color Purple, and Why I Won't Tone it Down Anymore
Penned a letter to my friend dealing with infertility: Letter to My Best Friend
And shared pictures and details about my awesome Mother's Day gift, a whole day and night out with my local bestie: Mud Runs and Mom Proms.
I also made a frame out of sticks we collected on a field trip for Cabin Boy #1's preschool teacher, knitted a bunch of baby gifts for my due date buddy's secret exchange present, jumped on the Baby Mugging bandwagon started by Mommy Shorts, updated the boys' mohawks, and took Cabin Girl rollerskating for the first time.
Parenting without religion, Part 1- Prayer from Slow Down: People Breathing
Apparently, I need to stop blinking, because that's how fast the time goes.
Aside from celebrating our 7th wedding anniversary and hitting over 150 Facebook fans, this is what happened around the Pirate house and blog in May:
I wrote about why I won't be hiding the aspects of my person that some people may not like anymore: Just Be- About Me, the Color Purple, and Why I Won't Tone it Down Anymore
Penned a letter to my friend dealing with infertility: Letter to My Best Friend
And shared pictures and details about my awesome Mother's Day gift, a whole day and night out with my local bestie: Mud Runs and Mom Proms.
I also made a frame out of sticks we collected on a field trip for Cabin Boy #1's preschool teacher, knitted a bunch of baby gifts for my due date buddy's secret exchange present, jumped on the Baby Mugging bandwagon started by Mommy Shorts, updated the boys' mohawks, and took Cabin Girl rollerskating for the first time.
If you're looking for something to do aside from chores this week, take the time to check these posts out!
My Summer in Numbers from TheShitastrophy
An honest look at what to expect over summer vacation. I hope we have enough snacks.
You want a Snickers? That'll be a 5k, please.
Parenting without religion, Part 1- Prayer from Slow Down: People Breathing
On how you don't need religion to raise good, considerate kids.
Summer fun activity!
The War for Peace from Stantose
"Good job Mommy. You're OK."
A Reason to Sing from Sloppy Copy Mommy
"Tonight, I decided that this is what it’s all about. We hold
them close, we love them, rock them, sing to them, and suddenly one day they’re
singing the songs themselves. Rocking their sisters in little rocking chairs, holding
doll babies close. They’re copying the way we love, the way we live. "
Don't Forget Your Maid Costume from Laugh Lines
Providing excerpts, and hilarious insight, from The Total Woman on how to "make your marriage come alive"... 70s style.
Kids Food Rules from Science of Parenthood
The sad and hilariously true reality of why your kids may not be eating what's on their plate.
10 Confessions of a Regular Mom from It's Not Like a Cat
The first 5 of 10 confessions. How many can you relate to?
6 Simple Steps to Making Your Blog Easy for Others to Share from Let Me Start By Saying
Excellent advice for newbies to streamline their blog.
Here's looking forward to a busy June!
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