February 22, 2013--Letter to Me

If I could write a letter to me and send it back in time to myself at 17....

I've never been a huge fan of Brad Paisley, but I do enjoy his song "Letter to Me."  And I heard it recently and wondered, if I knew then what I knew now, what would I tell myself at 17?  Or even a year younger at 16, which seems to be the major milestone for females?

....have no fear, these are nowhere near the best years of your life....

1) Mom is right.  It's just puppy-love.

From the time I was 14, I thought he was the love of my life.  I pined over him for four years, all through high school.  One night when taking a walk with my mother, I was agonizing over these feelings I had for this boy and how my life would never be complete because he didn't feel the same way.  My mom's response: it's puppy-love, Briana.  I remember exclaiming passionately that it was NOT puppy-love, I was in love with this boy and if he were to drop down on one knee that very night and propose to me, I would say yes.  I was seventeen.

In the end, we dated--briefly--and then it ended.  I won't go into the details.  Let's leave it at I was heartbroken.  I thought I'd never love again.  And then I grew up.  I got past eighteen, I got past high school.  I went to college, I met new people, my life moved on.  And when I finally found real love--the kind that is highs and lows and laughter and arguments and orgasms and "leave me the hell alone's" and kids and jobs and thick and think, constantly--I realized that my mom was right.  It was just puppy-love.  It wasn't worth the tears and the agony and the heartache.  I would survive it, and more importantly, I would thrive.

2) A 4-year degree is a joke.  Do what YOU want to do.

I graduated second in a class of five hundred.  I had a near perfect GPA.  Every adult within a 100 mile radius told me that I was going to do something "great."  I had such a future ahead of me.  I had considered being a massage therapist during high school and was told that I was "better" than tech school.  I needed to go away, go to college, go to a university, get a 4 year degree.  Be "great."  

And I listened to them.  I started out as a music ed major.  Two terms in, I knew I didn't want to do that.  So I became a psych major because I had so enjoyed my intro gen ed psych class.  I got quite a bit farther into that before I realized that in order to actually work in my field I would need at least a Master's degree, if not a doctorate.  Which meant 2-4 years more of school, at least.  I wasn't even done with my Bachelor's and already I was burnt out.  I was so sick of school.  I was so sick of classes that didn't matter and the time and energy put into things I didn't really care about.

So finally, FINALLY, I ditched the four year program and went to tech school.  I got my massage therapy education, passed my national exam and got licensed.  I finally went back and did what I wanted to do, not what everybody expected me to do.

If I could do it all over again, I'd have gone to massage school in the first place.  I'd have done what I truly wanted to do.  I'd be $40,000 less in debt and have a lot more experience under my belt.  Don't let people talk you out of what you want for yourself.  They're not you.  You are you.  Do what works for you.

3) Working retail during the holidays....SUCKS.  Don't do it if at all possible.

This one pretty much speaks for itself.  Not only did I work retail during the holidays one year, I worked TWO retail jobs during the holidays one year.  At the mall.

Beyond stupid.

4) You are talented.  Don't let the wannabes convince you differently.

I love to sing.  I always have.  I sang all through high school in 3 different choirs.  I thought I had a good voice, but I had a bit of a confidence issue.  Unfortunately, my peers and my directors throughout high school did nothing but encourage that inner doubt.  I wasn't given solos because I wasn't the "popular" kid, I wasn't given solos because I didn't have the right parents (you know, the ones who had influence on the school board, made donations, etc...).  I didn't get cast in any major roles of the school musicals for the same reasons.  Gotta love high school politics, right?

It wasn't until college that I had a director tell me that I had a beautiful voice.  He encouraged me to try out for solos, demanded that I try out for solos.  But by that point the damage was done.  I doubted my talent.  Any time I hit a note wrong during practice I was sure everyone heard it and was snickering about it.  There was no way I was risking making a mistake while I sang all by myself.  No chance in hell.

Now I sing at church and am told all the time to join the choir.  The short bit I did in the church choir, I was given the Christmas solo without any choice in the matter.  And I freaked out about it until I had it perfect.  And still I was scared shitless that I would screw it up.

Looking back now, I wish I had recognized high school politics for what they were.  Because I'd have realized that none of it actually had anything to do with me or what I was capable of.  That doubt would have never developed and I would not have allowed it to hold me back.

I wouldn't be quite so silent now.

5) Having a date for prom is overrated.  

You feel like you have to stay with your date if you have one.  I went as a junior with my boyfriend who was a senior.  He didn't dance.  I spent the first half of the night hanging on the wall with him bored out of my mind.  The second half of the night I spent hanging out with friends and dancing and felt guilty as hell because he wouldn't join in.

Senior year I took a friend who had already graduated.  He ditched me about half an hour in for another girl. I don't know for sure, but I'm assuming he got laid.  His car was sexy, what can I say?  My best friend (who also happened to be the guy I was "in love" with) drove me home.  

I wouldn't call either night a "success."  In hindsight, I'd have gotten a bunch of my girlfriends together and gone with them.  We'd have danced all night and had a good time without having to worry about the dumb high school males.  I'd have danced all night and had a good time without worrying about what my worth was in the eyes of some dumb high school male.

Go solo.  End of story.

6) Break some rules--the end justifies the means.

I was not a rule-breaker.  The worst of my indiscretions was being a little late past curfew a handful of times.  And I let my parents scare the hell out of me.  I was terrified of letting them down.  I gave up time with friends, typical teenage experiences because I did not want to disappoint my parents.  I was as golden a child as possible.  I tried my hardest to not screw up.

I should have let myself.  I should have gone to a party or two.  I should have stayed out til 2 or 3 in the morning.  I should have moved out and gotten an apartment with my sister-in-law when I had the chance.  I should have given myself a life outside of my family niche.

Instead, I lived at home until I found myself married and pregnant at 23.  I went from living with a family unit to living with a new and different family unit.  I never learned to do things for myself because there was always someone to do it for me.  I can't change a tire.  I can't really cook.  I don't understand how to do basic home upkeep (I didn't know how to run a dishwasher until Chaz showed me how).

That's embarrassing.

Break some rules.  Move out.  Be independent.  Figure out who you are and embrace yourself.  

I wish you wouldn't worry, let it be....have a little faith and you'll see

If I could write a letter to me....

February 19, 2013-2--My Epic Battle With a Wolf Spider

Throughout my perusals of Pinterest I have come across many pins, the titles of which are something along the lines of:

30 things to ask your boyfriend/husband

15 questions to ask your fiance before getting married

Getting to know you: 23 great conversation starters

And so on and so forth.....

I've looked at a few of these because they all claim the same thing--they are new, interesting, great conversations starters and they are things you absolutely should know about your significant others.  I can tell you that in my experience, all of these claims are full of $%!^.  They all contain the same mundane questions.

What is your greatest fear?

What is your dream job?

What's your favorite color?

What are your strengths?

Describe your most embarrassing moment.

Ugh.  Seriously?  It's like an interview for a boyfriend/girlfriend.  And I totally get that getting to know your significant other is important--it is vital--but not by setting down a list of 30 questions that you fire at the other person one after another. You spend time, you ask questions, you listen....over a period of months, not minutes.

Anyway.  End rant.

The reason I bring this up is because while looking at one of these things today, I was confronted with the question, what are 3 legitimate fears and how did they become fears?  My first issue was with the word legitimate.  What makes a fear legitimate or illegitimate?  Were the parents of said fear not married at the fear's conception?  Fear is fear and yes, sometimes said fear is irrational--phobias for example--but it is still fear.

Personal example: Spiders.

I HATE spiders.  I have a terribly irrational fear of spiders.  I do not kill spiders myself, I call Chaz and have him come kill them for me.  I will scream or squeal at a very high pitch whenever I see one.  Depending on the size, I may run out of the room, flapping my hands like a crazy person.  (The larger the spider, the more frenzied the flapping.)

Which leads me to a fairly hilarious story...

I was in the bathroom one day fixing my hair when I felt something itchy on my arm.  I look down and there is a huge wolf spider on my arm.  And when I say huge, I mean humongous.  We're talking, larger than a half-dollar.  Ginormous.  So naturally, I let out an extremely loud, extremely high pitched scream.  I swipe at my arm and come running out of the bathroom, dancing around on my toes like I was on a set of hot coals.  Then the hand flapping started.  Some pretty extreme hand flapping.  Chaz comes running, thinking I've just sliced my wrists open or something, and is extremely irritated when he finds out that (in his words) it was just a spider.

Just a spider.  NO. SUCH. THING.

He basically gives me a minor chewing out for scaring him half to death and then goes back to whatever he was doing.  I, on the other hand, cautiously peek into the bathroom looking for this gargantuan spider that I have just flung off my arm.  It is nowhere to be found.  I look around the whole bathroom--this thing is gone. I'm freaking out because there is no way a spider that big just disappears and I have no fricking idea where the damn thing has gone.

After a few minutes, when there is no sign of this eight-legged thing, I decide to give it up and go back into the bathroom because I have to finish doing my hair.  I walk into the bathroom, squirt some gel into my hands, raise my arms to start whisking the gel through my hair and finally raise my eyes to look into the mirror so I can see what I'm doing.

The damn thing is

IN. MY. HAIR!!!

My fricking hair!!!!

So rinse and repeat the whole screaming, flinging, dancing and hand-flapping routine.  I come running out of the bathroom again, screaming again, Chaz comes running again.  I'm practically hyperventilating because this monster of an eight-legged arachnid is going to eat me alive.

And when I finally calm down just a tad, I glance down and the spider is laying on the ground, dead.  I have absolutely no idea how it is dead.  I did NOT step on it--I know, because I was barefoot and I know I would have realized if I'd stepped on a massive spider half the size of my foot.  Plus, it wasn't smashed, so I didn't step on it.  Chaz did not step on it.  I have no idea how the damn thing died.  It's just dead.

I don't know why I was puzzling over the spider's death so much.  I mean, I wanted it dead, obviously.  And it's dead.  Problem solved.  But it's driving me nuts that I can't figure out how it died when there are no obvious signs to show how it died.

So I pose this question to Chaz, who standing there looking disgusted and annoyed, very matter-of-factly says, "Well, with all that ridiculous screaming and carrying on, you probably scared the poor thing to death." He then turned and left me standing there with the dead spider.  My knight in shining armor.

Looking back now it's a great story to tell.  People usually get a good laugh out of it.  I, on the other hand, still get chills down my spine when I think of the huge-fricking-massive arachnid it my effing hair.  Not. Ok.

Legitimate fear?

I leave that up to you to decide.

February 19, 2013--What I Do Know...

**For anyone who knows me, they know I'm not a big fan of posts and statuses and such that are obvious bids for attention, in whatever form.  This is NOT that.  I'm not looking for validation. I simply have had a lot of thoughts going through my head the last few weeks and I needed to get them down "on paper."  This post is strictly for me.  It's not meant to be a whiny, pity-party.  It's just the way things are.  With that said, my thanks if you continue reading.**

Chaz says I am at a different place in my life than most other people my age.  I don't know if that's really true.  I know that many of the people I graduated with are also married, some with kids.  I don't know what their social lives look like, mostly because I'm not part of them.  If what Chaz says is true, their social lives should probably look a lot like mine.  Again, I don't know if that's really true.

What I do know is that I got married at the age of 23.  Chaz's and my first daughter was born seven months into our marriage.  Our second daughter was born nineteen months later.

What I do know is that Chaz and I have struggled to find time to spend together, just the two of us, let alone find time to spend with other adults.  Even if we did have the time, we would still need the adults.

What I do know is that raising two kids this close together is hard.  It's not something I ever planned for myself.  While I love it and appreciate it, I'm still learning how to handle it.  I don't know if I ever fully will.

What I do know is I have finally admitted to myself that I feel like my life has no direction.  Beyond being a mother, I have no idea how to get where I think I want to go.  I don't feel like I have ever truly succeeded at anything I have ever attempted.  I don't know how to handle that either.

What I do know is that the people that were supposed to be there for me, that were supposed to support me and have my back have let me down.  When I really needed them to be there, they weren't.

What I do know is that somehow I ended up with a family and no friends and I can't figure out how it doesn't seem possible for me to have both.

What I do know is that apparently I have been holding onto a lot of stuff that I didn't realize I was.  While I have put on a strong face and let stuff roll off my back and acted like I didn't need anyone and I was fine, apparently I'm not.  People abandoning me has hurt me more than I ever realized and I have never dealt with it.  I've acted like it didn't bother me, I didn't need friends like that, I was better off.

What I do know (and have finally admitted) is I've been lying to myself.

What I don't know is what to do about it.  And isn't that a conundrum?

February 12, 2013--Science Center

I've been going a little stir-crazy for a while now.  I love being a stay-at-home mom, but there are days that I have this desperate need to get out of the house, to get a view other than the four walls of my house.  Saturday was one of those days.

I had really wanted to take Aubrey to the zoo--get out, get some fresh air and some sunshine.  Unfortunately, the weather was not too keen on cooperating.  It was chilly and the wind was making it feel at least ten degrees colder and the last thing I wanted to do was make the drive out there and then not be able to stay because we couldn't stand the weather.

So at 11:20 or so Saturday morning, after deciding it was too cold to brave the outdoors, I sat wracking my brain for a way to get out of the house that wouldn't cost a fortune.  And then I remembered that the St. Louis Science Center is free and Aubrey is old enough finally to probably enjoy it.  I jumped onto the interwebs to see what was going on at the Science Center, hours and such.

Turns out the SC was doing a two-for-ten thing where you could see an Omnimax film and gain admittance into the Wildlife Rehabilitation exhibit.  Individual tickets for both things are close to 10 bucks a piece, so it was a good deal.  I checked to see what shows were playing at the Omnimax and decided the one that Aubrey would probably enjoy the most was one called "Born to Be Wild," a film about orphaned elephants and orangutans who are raised and then re-released into the wild.

It was just my luck that on Saturday, "Born to Be Wild" was only playing once and it just happened to be at 1pm.  It was now 11:30, I hadn't showered, Aubrey wasn't dressed.  Why do I wait until the last minute to make plans, again?

So Chaz called the SC to reserve us tickets while I took the fastest shower on record, grabbed some clothes for me and Aubrey, threw some stuff in my purse and had us out the door by 11:45.

We got there around 12:30--I parked at the back side in order to avoid paying for parking.  We then had to traverse the entire planetarium and half of the SC to get where we needed to be to pick up our tickets for the show.  Aubrey walked the whole way herself.  I was so proud of her!!!  She is growing up way too fast on me.

We saw the show and afterwards went to check out the Wildlife Rehabilitation exhibit.  Aubrey had an absolute blast!  After spending about half an hour in the exhibit, I could tell she was getting worn out (I wasn't surprised after all the walking and running around she'd done in the past hour and a half) so we made one last stop before leaving.

Aubrey loves dinosaurs, so I had to take her downstairs to see the "life-size" mechanical T-Rex and Triceratops.  Watching that was probably the best moment of the day.  First she just stared up at this 15, 20 ft display in absolute awe for a few moments.  And then she started roaring at the T-Rex.  She bent her arms at 90 degrees, curled her fingers into claws and then started swiping them at the T-Rex and roaring at it.  It was absolutely priceless!!

She had been so good all day, walking the whole way, not running away from me at all, not throwing a fit when we left one exhibit or the other.  I was a very proud mama.  And I'm also a sucker.  The SC has a Build-a-Bear on the floor with the dinosaur exhibit and they actually sell stuffable dinosaurs.  I just couldn't help myself.  She'd been so good.  I took Aubrey in and let her pick out a dinosaur.  She picked the pink one....of course.  We got the dinosaur a "Wildlife Rehabilitation" shirt to wear to commemorate the day and then we finally headed home.

She was out like a light before we hit the highway.

Omnimax poster

Checking out the huge screen--once the movie started, she was completely entranced.

Seeing how her weight and height compares to that of a panda.

The sturgeon was her favorite--she kept wanting to go back and "play with the fish."

Checking out the big cats

Discovering the habitats of the world

Stitching a turtle's broken shell back together

Measuring the heart rates of a chipmunk, rabbit, world and deer

Playing a turtle, crawling through a tunnel "under a highway"

Guiding some cranes home

Staring up at the dinosaurs in awe

Roaring at the T-Rex

Picking out the pink dinosaur at the Build-a-Bear

It was an awesome day.  Hopefully it keeps the stir-crazies away until next weekend.  :)

Until next time....

February 10, 2013--A Bit on Bullying

Anyone who knows me has probably picked up on the fact that I'm a Chicago Bears fan.  And not just a "Yeah, Go Bears!" fan, but a "know all the words to the Bears fight song, can sing along with the Superbowl Shuffle (if you're unfamiliar, Google it), has numerous pieces of Bears clothing and accessories, watches every game during the regular and post season, will defend them to the death" Bears fan.  It's pretty serious stuff.

Part of being a Bears fan is being a Green Bay Packers hater.  And yes, I hate the Green Bay Packers.  I detest Clay Matthews (my hatred of him specifically has mostly to do with his hair--don't judge me, I never claimed that any of this was rational).  Why?  Because it's what Chicago Bears fans do.  Ask any Green Bay fan and they will tell you that they hate Chicago.  It's a rivalry that's got a lot of history, it goes back for decades.

So why am I boring you to death with my sports addiction?

Because recently some overzealous Bears fan decided to do something that gained a whole lot more attention than he was probably gunning for.  He posted a picture of a Green Bay Packer cheerleader taken from 2009 on one of the Chicago Bear fan FB pages, with a caption that read "'Like' if you agree the Packers have the worst cheerleaders in the NFL."  The post was flooded with "likes" and comments that ranged from extremely nasty comments regarding the level of ugliness to be found on the Packers' cheerleader squad to Packers fans defending their cheerleaders and some Bears fans actually backing them up.  It basically turned into an online blood bath.

Now, while I don't agree that this initial fan's actions were terribly intelligent, I do think that it is just part of a rivalry that has been going strong since 1921.  Reeling in on 100 years, people.  That's a really long time.  And there are plenty of other strong NFL rivalries out there: St. Louis vs. San Francisco, Indianapolis vs. New England, Baltimore vs. Pittsburgh.  You have to know that when you decide to cheer for any one of these teams, you're going to be on the receiving end of some guff from supporters of your rival team.

Unfortunately, this goes for cheerleaders too.  Now, the Chicago Bears don't have cheerleaders, so we don't really have to worry about it.  However, when you sign up to cheer for San Francisco, you have to know that when St. Louis comes to play, you're going to get booed by their fans.  Same goes for Greeen Bay/Chicago.

I don't think this fan who initially posted the picture had anything against the girl whom the picture was of, other than the fact that she was wearing a Green Bay cheer uniform.  He wasn't "out to get her."  But as in any group of people, you have the mainstream and you have the extreme.  And some extreme fans got a little crazy and said some pretty not nice things and all of a sudden, what should have been a simple fan rivalry issue has now turned into an issue of...duh duh duh....bullying.

The cheerleader made a silent video that was posted and has pretty much gone viral to indicate her position on online bullying and how it's unacceptable.

This is the point that a rather long, sports specific intro has gotten me to.

I won't lie and say I'm terribly familiar with a lot of the online bullying issues.  I'm not a recipient of a lot of "online bullying" so it's not something of which I take a lot of notice.  But apparently, it's a pretty big deal, especially when it comes to teenagers.  I am familiar with the girl who killed herself a few years back because of some things said to her or about her over MySpace.  I still couldn't give you all the details.  But as this latest video posted by a Green Bay cheerleader has indicated, online bullying is a pretty rampant and growing issue.

It has given "bullies" a means to say anything and everything to whomever they want without any real fear of retaliation.  It has allowed them to enable their cowardly ways by allowing them to do their thing without having to be face-to-face with someone.  Without giving that someone a chance to stand up for themselves.  They're not censored, they don't have to worry about the teacher or monitor showing up and catching them.  In some cases they can even remain anonymous and spew their hatred without anyone knowing where it's coming from.

Do know that I realize this makes things seem really bleak for the victims.  My point here is not to act like this issue is being overrated or blown out of proportion.

My point is that there are plenty of ways to avoid this type of situation and for the most part, it's pretty much the same online as it is in "real life."  Here are my suggestions:

First, to the parents:

1) Talk to your kids!!  Technology has developed in such a way that we are turning into a society that communicates without communicating.  Chaz and I went out to dinner the other night and as I looked around, at least one person at 90% of the tables had their nose in their cell phone or tablet.  No one was actually talking.  This is NOT ok.

Sit down and spend time with your kids and actually TALK to them.  Ask them about school, find out how their day went, get them to TALK back.  Know what's going on in their lives.  Do not allow yourselves to get to a point where you find your kid dead in their bedroom, a suicide note sitting on the desk and then sit there scratching your head saying, "I had no idea."  Be involved.

2) Educate your kids!!  This goes hand-in-hand with the talking.  Let them know that there are going to be people out there who don't like them, for no reason whatsoever.  Teach them how to handle such situations. Whether that's punching the kid who's been pushing and hitting them on the playground (I am NOT an advocate of violence, but having been in this situation as a kid, there is something to be said for "fighting back," it's much more effective) or walking away and learning to just avoid that kid's route or killing them with kindness, let them know they have options and that you will support them.

Raise them to be intelligent people with intelligent vocabularies.  Teach them to "insult" people politely and intelligently.  Nothing throws a bully off more than when they're sitting there calling you a "stupidhead" and you respond with "ignorant cretin."  By the time they figure out what "ignorant" means and start in on "cretin" you'll be to your next class.

Words are powerful, there is no question about that.  But most times they are powerful only if they are the right words.  Getting on Facebook or MySpace or whatever other social network pages are popular and spewing a lot of vulgar and ignorant sentiments around does not give you credence.  It makes you the opposite side of the same coin.  So teach your kids to stand up to bullies by being the bigger person, by being smart and confident people.  Impress on them the fact that most bullies are insecure and talk a big talk but are too cowardly to back themselves up.  Give them the tools they need to successfully put up an effective front to these people.

3) Be a parent, not a friend.  If this means hacking their Facebook page to keep track of what they're up to, so be it.  If this means changing the privacy settings on their FB page or the computer in general so they can't access certain things, so be it.  Yes, they may hate you for it now, but when they get older and they realize that they didn't go through the drama that they're seeing now, they're going to realize you were right.  They're kids--most of them have plenty of friends.  They don't need another one.  They need someone who has their best interests at heart when they don't know what their best interests are.

Don't let them have a Facebook page just because everybody else has one (especially if online bullying is something you're worried about).  Make them go out and socialize, not sit behind a computer for hours a day.  Facebook has evolved into something it was never intended to be because people felt left out.  It was originally meant for college students so they could keep in contact with childhood and high school friends when they all went their separate directions.  Well then the high school kids felt left out and wanted in, so they extended the invitation to them.  And then it went public so parents were on FB keeping tabs on everybody and now every eight year old and his sister has a Facebook page.  Some things are age appropriate.  Some things you do need to be older to have.  That's just part of growing up.  Tell your kids to deal with it and let them be mad at you.  You're doing your job.

And to the kids (and in general, everybody):

1)  Surround yourself with people who are good for you.  Find out who your real friends are--not the ones who are hanging out with you because you have cool shoes, or because you can buy them a soda at lunchtime or because you'll give them a ride home from school.  Find the people who share your interests and who like you for you.  Surround yourself with those people.  Develop a strong social network for yourself.  This puts you in a positive position with people who care about you.

This is extremely important when it comes to Facebook or whatever site you might choose to use.  Don't accept friend requests just because someone gives you one.  Don't send a friend request to someone just because you know who they are.  There is something to be said for "quality, not quantity."  Having "more friends" does not make you a better person and should not be any sort of validation of you as a person.  Don't be friends with your ex's new girlfriend.  Don't be friends with your dad's new girlfriend's kids, especially if you're not on good terms with your dad or his new girlfriend.  Don't be friends with the kid who you know talks about you behind your back.  That's how bullying happens, so just don't go there.

2) Avoid bad situations.  You know this person has a reputation for being a bully.  Stay away from them.  If you know they sit on the back of the bus, sit at the front of the bus.  Let teachers know you aren't comfortable with this person so they don't pair you up during gym class.

Don't get involved in the drama that occurs on Facebook, ESPECIALLY if it doesn't pertain to you.  Don't put a target on your back.  Just stay out of it.

Know who you're talking to, especially on Facebook.  If someone you know posts a controversial post and you have something to say about it, make sure it's worth saying.  Is this person someone who speaks intelligently, who listens to other people's opinions and responds appropriately?  Or is this someone who is going to revert to vulgarity and name-calling because you don't agree with them?  If the latter, then just walk away.  Even if what you have to say has merit, the person is not going to really hear it, so technologically speaking, you're wasting your breath, and opening yourself up to a lot of nonsensical and hurtful ranting and raving.  Just don't do it.

Be intelligent.  Be responsible.  Be knowledgeable.

There is plenty we can all do to avoid bullying situations, especially online bullying.  One of the best things to do is simply to ignore it.  I am in no way saying that people are right for using the internet as a way to spew their vile opinions and ignorant prejudices.  But they are going to do it.  Take it for what it is--an unintelligent person with too many hurt feeling pent up and no one who cares enough about them to truly listen to them or do anything for them.   Don't respond in kind.  Just walk away.  Delete the comment off your timeline, delete the post altogether, whatever.

Don't get pulled down into the quagmire of ignorance.  Be the better person.  Do not allow yourself to be victimized.  You have control over whether or not you are a victim.  Don't let them win.  Equip yourself with the knowledge and skills that will allow you to rise above and say "I will not be bullied.  I will not be victimized.  I will not hear the hatred that you scream out."

Let's face it.  Bullies are not going to stop.  They're like extremists.  They know only what they want to know, they hear only what they want to hear.  And they're not hearing the silent videos of an ex-Packer cheerleader.  The only people hearing that are the ones who have already acknowledged there's a problem.    They're not going to stop, they're not going to go away.

The only way you win is by taking away their so-called power by not allowing yourself to be victimized.  So stand up for yourself, educate yourself, equip yourself and then go forth and conquer.

Until next time....

February 7, 2013--Pregnancy Part 1

I have been wanting to write a blog post on pregnancy and labor for a while now.  However, the subject matter is fairly great and involved, so I may have to do this over multiple posts--firstly so I don't get carpal tunnel and secondly so that those of you who do end up reading this don't go blind trying to read it all in one sitting.  We'll see how it goes.

There are two things about pregnancy and labor that I want to emphasize greatly, before saying anything else:

1) Each woman is different and has personal preferences.  Each pregnancy and labor is different, with individual characteristics.  No woman should EVER be judged for the decisions she makes regarding her pregnancy and labor process, whatever they may be.  Period.

2) Women: EDUCATE YOURSELVES!!!  The most important thing you can do during pregnancy, especially a first one, is to find out as much as possible about this new life-changing process you are going through.  Read books, talk to TRUSTED and CLOSE family and friends (DO NOT get pulled down into all of the horror stories told by your friend's cousin's sister's mom), ask lots and lots of questions to your doctor or midwife or doula and make them answer them to YOUR satisfaction.  Make sure you are as mentally knowledgeable and prepared as you feel you need to be.

These two things are key.  No matter what my personal preferences might be and what I might suggest as a good idea, at the end of the day, you are in charge of your pregnancy--you know what you want, what you are comfortable with and you have every right to choose how to go through your personal pregnancy and delivery.

I'd like to start by sharing my own story because I think it plays a huge role in how I've come to view pregnancy and the belief system I have developed regarding pregnancy and labor.

When I found out I was pregnant with my first daughter, I was much less worried about the pregnancy itself and much more worried about telling my parents that I was pregnant.  I was engaged, but not married, and my parents had drilled into my head that sex was something to be saved until marriage.  It was just my luck that the first time I ever had sex, I ended up pregnant 13 days later.  But that's a story for another day.

I didn't know anything about pregnancy when I found out that I myself was pregnant.  And at that point, I didn't really care to do anything about that.  I talked to my mom, to my mother-in-law and to my doctor.  I figured those were three people whom I could trust and I took what they told me for granted.  My own mother had given birth to two children, both naturally.  So had my mother-in-law.  My OB was very supportive of what I wanted from the very beginning.  He answered my questions, but basically left most everything up to Chaz and myself.  The only test he insisted on running was the gestational diabetes blood test.  When I was getting close to delivery he was open about options.

Now, as I said, I didn't know a lot about pregnancy during my first pregnancy.  I had heard of midwives and doulas, but I hadn't consciously thought about there being another option, other than a hospital birth.  I just figured this was the way it was done.  And having discovered since that in most cases it is illegal for midwives to practice in the state of Illinois, therefore making home births "illegal" I really didn't have another option, even if I had known about or wanted one.

I went in for my weekly appointment about 10 days before my due date and found out I was already between 4 and 5 centimeters dilated and my OB told me that if I wanted, I could come back as early as the next day to be induced.  Chaz and I had just moved into a new house and still had quite a bit of work to do before baby Robertson arrived, so I choose to go home and wait for labor to start naturally.  My OB told me to go ahead and make my next appointment, but he figured he'd be seeing me before that.  Turns out I did make it to my next appointment and by that point, I was more than ready to be done.  I was scheduled to come into the hospital the next morning to be induced.

I arrived at the hospital around 6am and by 6:30 was hooked up to all the monitors and the pitocin was flowing.  The doctor came in sometime between 8 and 9 to break my water.  After that, the contractions started with a vengeance.  Between that time and the next four hours, I was asked multiple times by the nurses if I wanted anything for pain, they could call the anesthesiologist and get me an epidural--looking back now, I almost feel as if they were encouraging me to get one--but I was dead set on having a natural labor.  My mother had done it, my mother-in-law had done it, women all over the world did it--I would do it too.  As the contractions continued to lengthen and strengthen, I sunk deeper and deeper into a state of meditation.  Chaz sat hunched in a corner, staying quiet, having been warned by multiple friends to stay out of the way, because at some point I would start screaming at him, blaming him and calling him every name in the book.  Turns out, the worse the contractions got, the quieter I got, until I wasn't talking at all.  Like I said, I sank into a state of meditation, my mother by my side talking me through my contractions.  She stood there, watching the monitor, telling me when the contractions were starting, when they peaked, when they would back off, and here we go again.  And I breathed.  And breathed.  And focused on breathing.  And breathed some more.  That's how I got through the pain.  I embraced it, I forced myself to relax and let my body do what it's made to do.

I'm not sure how I knew how to do this, because as I've said, I didn't do any type of research during this pregnancy.  I trusted the people around me and just "went with it."  But I knew I didn't want an epidural and somehow I instinctively knew to let my body take over and do it's thing.  I didn't fight it and by 1:44pm, I had my first daughter in my arms.  I'd been in labor for less than 8 hours.  I have since accepted that women everywhere hate me for this.

11 months later, while on an IUD, I found out I was pregnant again.  Not the way we'd planned it, but we took it in stride.  I went into the OB the same day the stick turned pink, had the IUD removed and some preliminary tests run to make sure there were no immediate complications.  I was about 5 weeks along.

A week later, I was in a car accident.  My mother and I were sitting at a dead stop, waiting to turn into Wilson Park to take a walk when a texting teenager going about 45mph rear ended us.  Needless to say, I suffered some pretty major spinal deviations.  And for all my moms out there, you know how your lower back and pelvic area start to get uncomfortable the farther you go along during pregnancy.  On top of that, I had my injuries.  Those next eight months were the most painful of my life.

I was about five, five and a half months along when my mom and I traveled to Atlanta to take a 4 day course that would certify us in prenatal massage.  Taking that course changed my whole outlook on pregnancy.  For the most part it was a class that taught us specific massage techniques to use on pregnant women.  But there was enough of the course that talked about natural labor and the benefits of it.

As massage therapists, we believe that the body is an intricate thing that given the proper tools is capable of healing itself.  The body is regenerative.  We look at medicine as a last resort.  Now, understand that we recognize and acknowledge that in certain situations, medicine, surgery, etc., is absolutely necessary.  But we also encourage people to again, EDUCATE themselves and look into their options, because in a lot of cases, complementary therapies are effective and preventative.  But I digress...

The point is, that as a prenatal massage class, part of the learning encompassed the actual labor process, the physiological things going on, how the body is equipped to deal with said physiological processes and how to encourage the body to do just that.  After taking that class, I felt the need (which I had never felt during my first pregnancy) to read, to learn, to discover.  I bought a couple of books from the teacher of my massage course, took them home and read them.  I discovered that there was a whole different way to view pregnancy and labor.  There were options available.  There were birthing centers.  There were midwives.  There were water births.  There was a way to labor and deliver that didn't involve lying flat on my back, hooked up to monitors and wires, in a sterile, impersonal hospital room.

But as I said, I was going through the 8 most painful months of my life.  Sleeping was nearly impossible because I could not find a comfortable position to lie in.  Rolling over caused extreme stabbing pain in my pelvis.  Sitting for too long caused extreme pain in my tailbone and going from sitting to standing made the pain worse.  And I had gone through my first labor experience in the hospital and it had gone smoothly.  I knew and trusted my OB--he is not one to make decisions for his patients because he "knows best" as the doctor--there was no reason in my mind to change my plan more than halfway through my pregnancy.

Induction wasn't necessary with my second daughter.  She decided she was ready to come out three weeks ahead of time.  I woke up a few minutes before 7am on a Wednesday at my parents' home.  I had been having light contractions since Monday night--although, I wasn't quite sure about what I was feeling, since I hadn't gone through it the first time.  Chaz was working a double that day and we were down to one vehicle at the time--he didn't want me home by myself without a vehicle.  I got up to use the bathroom and as I was peeing, my water broke.  How lucky was I?  Mom packed me up into the car and we made it to the hospital by 7:30.

By then, my contractions were already starting to come pretty strongly.  But I was only about 3 centimeters dilated.  I had a long way to go.  I want to say that at some point they hooked me up to pitocin (which having read and done research, at this point I didn't really want) but I don't remember for sure because I was blinded with pain. Following proper hospital labor procedure, I was put into a bed, flat on my back with a slight incline and hooked up to all the wires and monitors.  But laying on my back was not ok for me.  I hadn't been able to lay on my back for months because it hurt too much.  But now, at the hospital, I wasn't allowed a different position.

The contractions continued to get worse and I tried desperately to find that place of meditation I'd gotten to during my first labor experience.  But I couldn't get past the pain in my back and pelvis, so I couldn't focus on containing and breathing through the contractions.  Again, I did not want an epidural so the nurses put some sort of slight pain medication or muscle relaxer in my IV bag to try and help with the pain.  It helped...a little and wore off in less than an hour and I was back to being in severe pain.  My cervix was checked and I hadn't dilated much more than another centimeter.  I was in pain, I was tense--there was no way my cervix was going to dilate quickly if I couldn't relax.  Which meant I was in for a very long haul.  I'd been in labor for 3 hours now and I knew I couldn't stand much more.

So I started asking the one nurse I'd decided I liked about epidurals.  I told her why I didn't want one, why I hadn't gotten one during my first labor.  I asked her what exactly it would do, how would it make me feel, what were the side effects, could it stall my labor, could it affect my baby, what were the risks?  The questions went on and on.  Luckily, she was patient enough to answer all my questions and she was honest about everything.  From what she said, I started leaning toward wanting one.  Anything to stop the pain.

I looked at my mother with tears in my eyes.  I didn't really want one but I didn't think I'd survive without one.  Did having one done mean that I had failed?  Was I weak?  Was I giving up on myself?  Because that's how I felt.  But my mother just shook her head and said no, I hadn't failed.  Every pregnancy is different and I'd spent this entire one in constant pain.  That pain threshold only lasts so long.  She told me that I had done what I was supposed to do--I'd asked questions, I'd gotten information, I was now equipped to make an informed and educated decision about what was best for me.  And if that meant I needed an epidural, than so be it.

So I told the nurse to order it.  The next 40 minutes were interminable.  But the anesthesiologist finally walked in, talked me through the procedure and administered the drugs.  And just like that, the pain was gone.  I was laying there, feeling no pain, able to relax.  I was comfortable for the first time in months.  I could still feel my contractions, but I felt pressure rather than pain.  I went from 4 centimeters dilated to 10 within the next hour.  My OB came in to "check on me," see how I was doing with the epidural and it turns out, I was ready to push.  My second daughter was born on the third push.  The whole process had taken only 5 hours.  Again, I have since accepted that women hate me for this.

The thing about it is though, my second labor experience felt longer than my first.  A portion of it was damn near unbearable.  Chaz will tell you that he never wants to go through another labor experience like my second again.  That watching me in that much pain was horrible.  I'd take the seven hour labor in less pain over the five hour labor in more pain any day.

Pain is relative.  There are many different types of pain.  These things have to be taken into account when it comes to labor.  For some women, the pain of labor is nothing compared to say, a dislocation.  For others, labor pain in the worst pain they've ever endured.  The thing we, as women, have to do is accept that only we know what kind of pain we're in and how much, and how we can best handle it.

I am not a supporter of getting an epidural just for the sake of getting one because it's "easy."   Because the truth is, there are risks involved.  But if you get to a point where you feel like the pain is too much and you feel that one is necessary, that is your choice and no one can judge you for it.  Just make sure that you know what you are doing.  Make the effort to find out exactly what's happening and make sure that you are ok with it.  Don't just take your doctor's word for it, or your friend's or your mom's or sister's.  Make decisions that are right for you based on your own knowledge and understanding.  Trust me, you will feel better for it.

Look for part 2 in a day or two...I'm sure this is more than enough for one day.

Until next time...

February 1-2, 2013--3rd Anniversary

It's funny sometimes how God manages things and makes them work out in ways you never anticipated....

Chaz's and my third anniversary was this past Wednesday, January 30.  On Wednesday, I had a little over two dollars stashed away in my wallet.  Our bank account was empty and we wouldn't get paid for another week.  So I went out and spent our last two dollars on an overly large Hershey bar, which we shared while watching The Words (excellent movie, by the way, for anyone who hasn't seen it).  On the one hand, we were both a little depressed that all we could manage for our anniversary was a chocolate bar and a movie, sitting at home with the girls on a lumpy couch.  On the other hand, we thought "won't this be a fun story to tell our kids when they're going through the dregs of early marriage and stressed about having 'no money?'"  Either way, we enjoyed a good movie and a good candy bar and went to bed as content as we could possibly be, given the circumstances.

The next morning, Chaz called me from work and told me to check the bank account.  The only reason he ever calls me and tells me to do this is if there is money in the account.  If we're broke, he just sucks it up and tells me.  But that morning, he made me look at the account.  And as I'm logging in, I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out where we might possibly have had money come from--did he get a bonus from work that he didn't know about?  Did some random stranger magically send us some money?  I surely couldn't figure out anything that made any sense.

Turns out, our taxes had come in.  On January 31.  Guess that's what happens when you file them by the 17th....

We were no longer broke.  Let me just say that when you go from having no money to having considerably a lot more money, it's a little hard to not go crazy.  But we were good.  We didn't...too much.  We made sure we paid off a number of bills we had, we made smart decisions.  We also went out for our anniversary.

As I was looking, shocked, at the new balance of our bank account, Chaz said that he wanted to go out to Pappy's.  For anyone who might not know, Pappy's is a nation-famous BBQ joint in St. Louis, which Chaz has been wanting to go to for months.  So I called my parents and asked if they'd be willing to take the girls overnight on Friday, so Chaz and I could go out to dinner.  They graciously agreed.

Now, dinner is all fine and dandy, but I got this great idea--if we weren't going to have the kids overnight, why waste the night in our own house, in our own bed?  Why not splurge?  I suggested getting a hotel room and making an actual night of the night.  Chaz wasn't hard to convince.  So as I sat, Friday morning, browsing St. Louis hotels for a reservation for Friday night, one of Chaz's bosses suggests the Hotel Ignacio, a little boutique hotel in the Central West End.  So I look it up online, and it. is. nice.  It's also pricey, but this is our anniversary we're talking about, here.  There's a tab marked "Specials" so I click on it, see if I might get lucky.

BBQ, beer and a bed.  Perfect.  The package includes a room, a $25 gift certificate to Pappy's (where we've planned to eat anyway) plus 3 bottles of Pappy's bbq sauce to take home, as well as a "growler" (a 2 liter canteen looking thing) from the Urban Chestnut Brewing Company and a free growler fill at the brewery.  Within a few seconds, by a few clicks of the mouse, our reservations are made and the plan is set.

We drop the kids off at my parents around 5:30, are checking in at the hotel around 6:15.  The staff is amazing--very friendly and accommodating.  The building is beautiful.  We're told we're on the 5th floor, so we head up, and we walk into this:

The living room is equipped with a 42' flat screen TV, a mini fridge stocked with soda, lemonade, chilled coffee, water (all free for us to take), a fireplace, and some sort of media hub (I can't remember the specific name), which looks like a kindle, but is actually a phone, computer, phone book and internet all in one.  We could look at the room service menu on it, call down to the front desk to request ice & glasses, look for places to go visit or restaurants to eat at.  It was kinda cool....alright, it was really cool.

The bathroom was by far the best part of the suite.  There were double sinks beneath a wall to wall to ceiling mirror, which if you look closely, you will see, has a TV built in.  So we can watch TV while soaking in the tub, or while brushing our teeth.  It was a tad extravagant.  The jacuzzi tub was huge, with wonderful jets strong enough to make reading in the tub impossible.  The shower had the regular head, a handheld head (each with multiple settings) and then four jets that shot out from the side of the shower.  It was heaven.

The bedroom was simple--a bed, desk and TV.  But the bed was king sized, with a tempurpedic mattress.  The wall (seen at the left of the bed picture) was a floor to ceiling window, which unfortunately you can't appreciate because it was dark and we had pulled the shade.  But the two lights hanging on the sides of the bed didn't get any brighter than that because the window provided such ample light that man-made lights were not necessary.

All said and done, it was a very nice suite.

As I said, we checked into our room around 6:15 and we told the guy and gal who checked us in we were planning on going to Pappy's for dinner.  Their advice?  Better hurry, they'll be out of food soon.  So after unloading our bags and taking a very quick look around (I took the pictures of the suite later) we headed out for some BBQ.

Now, Pappy's is quite the interesting place.  You walk in and you are not seated.  You're not even allowed to seat yourself.  You walk through the place, up to the register where you place your order.  No menus.  There's a huge chalkboard above your head telling you what's available and you decide what you want on the spot...and hope they're not already sold out of what you want.  **By the time we got there, they were out of ribs and brisket.**  Once you order, you go find whatever table might be available and take a seat.  You've barely gotten settled at your table before your food is being served.

The busboys are hanging around watching hockey, or football, or baseball, waiting for the next table to clear out so they can clean it up quickly for the next set of people.  They're also very friendly and talkative.  The food is excellent.  The seasonal hours sign says "Open 11-7ish."  They stay open until they run out of food.  They run out of food, they slap a "sold out" sign on the door, quit serving and close up.

We will definitely be going back.  Especially after one of the busboys found out it was our first time there, asked us what our favorite sauce was and then handed us a free bottle of it on our way out the door.  Awesome place.  You should go.

Next, we headed over to the Urban Chestnut Brewing Company, a small microbrewery in the Central West End.  It's basically like a winery, but with beer.  They've got close to 20 different beers on tap and you can sample as many as you like for free.  Once you find one you like, you can order a glass of it, or if you can't choose, you can order a "flight" which consists of 1/2 - 3/4 filled glasses of 4 different beers....for $5.  They also serve wine, limited liquor and German/Bavarian type food--wiesswurst served on pretzel bread, soft pretzels served with cheese and butter sauce, cheese plates, etc.  Some of the patrons were what Chaz called "beer snobs" but he enjoyed himself immensely.  Myself, not being a beer drinker...or a wine drinker...simply took pleasure in seeing him have such a good time.

At the end of the night he had his growler filled with the beer he decided he liked best and we headed back to the hotel.  You would have thought that being a young couple celebrating their 3rd anniversary, we'd have taken advantage of the circumstances, stayed up late, drank plenty of the liquor we took with us, driven the neighbors crazy.  In actuality, we were both exhausted by the end of the day and ended up in bed and asleep by 10:30.  But that was ok.  We'd enjoyed our day.

We also enjoyed a lazy morning the next day.  We got up, took advantage of the awesomely awesome shower and packed up.  We checked out around 10 and went to get breakfast before heading home.  The media hub I mentioned previously had suggested a place called the City Diner, so that's where we headed.  It's literally next door to the Fox Theatre.  As we were pulling up to the parking lot, we noticed a fire truck sitting in front of the door.  Up for an adventure, we parked the car and got out.  Apparently, there had been a grease fire, which had been put out, but the place was still filled with lingering smoke, therefore the smoke alarm couldn't be reset.  Annoying as the noise was, we liked the look of the place and didn't really feel like trying to find somewhere else to go, so we took a table and placed our orders.  After about half an hour, the smoke alarm was finally shut off, followed by a rousing round of applause by the customers and sighs of relief by the staff.  The food was good, the staff was very professional especially given the circumstances and the atmosphere was just fun.  

We're planning on moving into Missouri within the year so that Chaz can be closer to work.  I look forward to being able to scour the city for places like this once we live a little closer.  The weekend was just so much fun--we discovered a number of new places, all of which we would be more than happy to return to, and who knows how many more of them exist within the city limits of St. Louis?  

I was raised by a native Chicagoan.  I was bred to "hate" St. Louis.  But while I am and always will be a die hard Chicago Bears fan and I will never, Never, NEVER like the Cardinals, I can say that I am developing a fondness for this city I live so close to and I look forward to exploring it and learning to love it in the future.

Here's to a wonderful 3rd anniversary...

Until next time...