It's been 3.5 years. I'm the worst blogger that has ever blogged.

 Who in the word has a blog that gets updated every once in 3 years or so?  Who does that?

I guess I do. 

I was shocked to see the link while Googling myself.  That's right. I occasionally Google myself.  I saw that the last entry was about the Crazy Mom Podcast which honestly was going to be great.  I was just days away from releasing the first episode.  I was editing and marketing.  I had a following of excited friends. 

Then I got a call.  

Something is going on with Mason. (His father) He explained symptoms that he saw. I noted symptoms that I saw.   I was coaching cheerleading at the middle school and was currently at an away game when we both realized we were describing Type 1 Diabetes.  He called the pediatrican immediately.  It was during the 3rd Quarter that I got the call that Mason's blood sugar was over 500 and they were taking him to Children's Hospital.  

Then a year of sadness.  A year of doctors.  A year of grief and life will never be the same. Shots. Injections. Insulin. 

Life...with a bag. (Medical bag)

It took me a year to finally see light at the end of the tunnel.  It was the next Spring when I started to get a hold of myself and come to terms with this life-altering diagnosis.  Mason was a trooper giving himself his first shots within 3 days of diagnosis.  I was a mess.  I was up all night checking on him. I was terrified he wouldn't wake up in the morning.  I cried. I looked for cures. I prayed so much.  But he was the hero and eventually, it was all going to be okay. 

It was about a year after being okay with the new life that Covid-19 hit.  The next day, Ethan was going to start driving school.  We had a clear path to 16 in 6 weeks. However, the world had other plans and we were shut down overnight.   We all lived on edge but spent so much time cuddling and spending time together at home.  Matt worked throughout the pandemic.  He's the best.  

The fall came with challenges that made Covid-19 seem like nothing at all. 

During Lorelai's soccer game, I received a call that Maddox had been found unresponsive in the shower face down.  They were taking him to Children's Hospital.  We raced there to meet the ambulance.  After testing and EEG's they found he was having seizures.  The day he was diagnosed, an hour after they called me at work to tell me he had epilepsy, the school nurse came to me and said mason had to go to Childrens right away, his blood pressure and heart rate were out of control.  

Coincidence or Curse...we ended up in the EXACT same room we were in during the weekend with Maddox.  

Testing for both kids.  Then, we find Ethan having symptoms of epilepsy as well. More tests.  This fall, we found out 2 kids have epilepsy and Mason has pediatric hypertension.  It felt like it was never-ending.  I had to find ways to pick myself up each day wondering what I had done for my children to be punished so severely with all of these medical issues.  I didn't even tell people because I wondered if I sounded crazy.  

Meds.  The meds helped.  Our last seizure was New Years Day. Ethan's 1st Seizure.  And it as horrific as I knew it would be. It took him 5 days to recover and even longer to feel normal.  Our clear path to adulthood just looks so different. We have each other though. And we are generally happy for that. 

I couldn't have done anything with my Matt.  God bless that man who never faltered and just held us all up.  He's the greatest friend and love a person could every ask for.  I don't know anyone gets through this kind of life without a Matt.  

Crazy idea...Crazy Mom Podcast.

Five years into writing my book and I realize that it's not for lack of content, but lack of time and effort that it is taking me this long to complete my manuscript.  There's a new medium out there that I love and I am going to start a podcast.  I've been talking to myself for years, what could possibly go wrong?

Dear Daycare...

I recently received the results of an evaluation that indicated that Lorelai is struggling with communication and problem solving based on some information I filled out when she was 8 weeks old. 

First off, allow me to apologize. Had I known that this was an actual evaluation, I would not have filled it out at a red light one morning as I was running late to work on my 2nd day back from maternity leave.  I would have taken my time to think about the questions and my responses and probably would have lied anyway to make sure she got off on the right foot with the people who are blessed enough get to spend more time with her than I do.

I want to say how glad I am that I am not a first time mother. If I would have been a first time mom and received information stating my child has 2 areas of concerns and would be receiving additonal help at daycare, I might have been crazy enough in my anxious post-partum state to go right to Sylvan Learning Centers and requested newborn tutoring for the small price of 1K a month.  I am nervous and bad with money like that.

Luckily, I have lots of kids; one of which sat very still like a lump of cute baby doing little more than very loud mouth-breathing for the first 6 months of his life.  

 Spoiler Alert: He turned out just fine...mostly fine.

I hear you loud and clear educators of newborn babies. I did not realize she was attending daycare with the love children of Stephen Hawking and Oprah.  To advance her to the appropriate level of newborn intelligence, I have decided to put Lorelai on a very tight schedule of activities to expand her mind.  This Tiger mom is going to earn her stripes.

Lorelai on a conference call with marketing.

Lorelai writing her memoirs.

Lorelai preparing for end times.

Not pictured: Lorelai being cultured.

(I was going to have her Dad photoshop her in a balcony at the Metropolitan Opera House but he thinks I am being "a little dramatic" about the whole thing. He didn't come out and say that, but I can tell he is thinking it.)

As for specifics, I agree that her communication skills need work. She doesn't conjugate her verbs correctly AT ALL. Her vocabularly is... circumscribed.  She mainly just screeches like a pissed off pterodactyl. She can be a real crybaby, frankly.  We will continue to work on that at home.  We are still deciding on our second language. Would you recommend Mandarin or Spanish? I am not sure who is taking over first. The Bank of China or the cartels down south?  We just want her to be prepared.

Problem solving? Yeah. That needs some work.  Between you and me, I have seen her, on more than one occasion, pull her own hair...and then CRY over it.  It is like her cute and tiny brain sees zero correlation between cause and effect. Does Toys R Us stock reasoning? What isle can I find some logic, am I right?!  Honestly, this one is a little more than I care to tackle right now.  I am a busy, working mother and we are going to focus on that whole 'poopin' in your pants' thing first.

I guess some blame lies with us.  We were prepared for her to lack any aptitude for mathematics. Her father and I both count with our fingers still.  I am embarrassed to say that she has seen Sharknado way more times than any 2 month old should have thanks to quality time with her three older brothers. I will be sure to speak with them.  Despite some difficult taste in cinema, they are quite intelligent which is why I am confident Lorelai will catch up to the more advanced newborns under your care. 

Thank you for your time and understanding,

Lorelai's Mom. 

I did a thing...

Blogger, I have sinned. It's been eleven months since my last confess- er, blog.

I can't believe it has been that long.  To be fair, I am coming out of quite the year long haze.

You see, I did a thing:

In October of last year, I found out that we were going to have a Baby (Yay!) And since no one seems to have issues with asking such a rude and personal question, I will just tell you that YES it was on purpose.  Baby was hoped and prayed for and 6 weeks later, digital confirmation.

So we are pregnant, then what?

Then we went to bed at 8pm every night.  I was exhausted and Matt didn't mind the extra sleep.  I didn't write or even update social media much because creativity level was almost null.  I just sat there eating a lot and wondering if I did the right thing with the twins turning 9 this year.

I secretly suspected that Baby was stealing all my awesome for herself and later, this theory proved correct.

It turns out, we did the right thing.  We did it all differently than we thought.

The plan was:
-Get pregnant and take 6 months to a year to do so.
-Eat super healthy and have zero caffeine for 9 months.
-Not find out the sex
-Not tell anyone the chosen name
-Have a VBAC calmly while listening to classic rock

What had happened was:
-Got pregnant immediately
-1st trimester: eat hamburgers.
2nd trimester: eat the steaks.
3rd trimester: eat ALL the things.
Have caffeine every day because I will die without coffee.

-We lasted longer than I thought with not finding out the sex.  But we caved and I am so glad we did!  If I had done a gender neutral nursery beforehand and then had my girl not realizing that I was carrying my first  girl, we would have stopped on the way home from the hospital to buy a whole new wardrobe and nursery. 

-The moment we found out and announced that baby was a She (Spoiler Alert, Baby was a "She") we told everyone our name because I loved it.  And it made her seem real. And it was wonderful.  And there was never a discussion. The moment her name came out of my mouth, Matt and I both loved it.  Another name was not discussed after.

-I had a repeat c-section. I lived in fear of preterm labor the whole pregnancy. I had it twice  including a 10 day NICU experience with the twins in 2007.  Well at 39 weeks with not enough progress and 5 weeks of prodromal labor, it was time to relent.  The c-section went beautifully.  My doctor is amazing. 

And thus you have our 6th child. Our tiny human. 

Lorelai Marie. 

She was 6 weeks old yesterday and she is perfect. A wonderful and well-tempered baby who loves to sleep and is literally fuzzyheaded loveliness in human format.  

Her siblings adore her and the amount of help they have given me is nothing short of amazing.  We are madly in love with life right now.

I did a thing.

A wonderfully perfect thing.

September Eleven.

For my generation, time will be measured in two ways.   Before September 11^th,   2001 and after September 11^th   2001.  That day is the dividing line between the innocence of our youth and collective understanding that we were unsafe in the world.  I was 16 years old.  I remember that day like it was yesterday, but don’t we all?  As a country, we suffered the trauma together and each person has their own story to share. 

I won’t spend time to bore you with mine but what I remember most on that day was Mr. Peters, our high school Principal coming onto the loud speakers at the end of the day and gave a speech that I still remember.  As our teenage classmates called for war and retribution and revenge, Mr. Peters sadly told us that those of us in this high school would be the kids who fought that war.   We didn’t understand at the time, but 14 years later, I understand that he knew in a way that we couldn’t understand that we’d be living with the aftermath of the events of that day for many years.  We still are. We always will be.

We watched the news for days. We ate dinner in front of the television.  We talked of nothing else. The skies were silent and if you saw an aircraft, it was military.   It was scary.  It was scary to go to a crowded baseball game. It was scary to go to the airport.  It was scary to see someone who looked different from us.  We were scared. 

And mad as hell.

So we grew strong.  We watched the dust covered first responders of New York City and the families who suffered and the survivors from ground zero.   Many young men and women felt a call to join the military and help make our country strong.  American flags flew as many as they had after VE Day.  We praised NYC and its leaders and its people.   A president promised to track down the man responsible and hold him accountable. The next president was able to do so.

And yet, there is still so much work to be done.  The war did not end with Bin Laden’s death.  The news of that day was welcomed but it didn’t heal the wounds from 10 years earlier. 

We are a country constantly on defense now.  We’ve been fortunate to suffer very few successful attacks although there have been many attempts.   We are prepared and ready to fight.  We are strong.  We are no longer innocent but jaded. Those teenagers have grown up, seen war, and have been hardened.  Our children have only ever lived in a world with their country at war.   I hope my kids never have to grow up collectively in one day, the way we did in September, but I also know that each generation had its day.

And when their day comes, I pray that they make wise decisions.  I hope they turn to God in those hours of fear and hate.  I hope they know that the Sun will rise the same the next day as it had that morning.

The alone-bird.

Mason said this to me this morning while stopped at red light on the way to the babysitters house, "Mom.  You know what’s weird? Maddox is silent when we get to the babysitters.  He’s completely quiet."  

And Maddox fired back "You’re quiet too sometimes!’ and Mason said ‘No I talk to my friends and play with them."

And Maddox looked out the window and I heard him say this, "Do you see the birds on the wire over there?  Do you see the group that talks together. There are three of them. Do you see?" and Mason nodded and Maddox continued "And then there’s that bird that is over by itself on the line.   It is the alone-bird.  It doesn’t want to have to talk with the others."

I just listened and thought about what my way-too-self-aware-7 year old was trying to explain to his twin brother.  Mason is an extrovert.  He goes to camp bravely by himself while Maddox stays at home and worries about him.  He likes sports and mud and being outside with neighborhood kids while Maddox stares at the door with tears in his eyes if I try to make him go play too when he doesn't really want to.  Maddox entertains himself. He hides in his closet and writes on the chalkboard always jumping when I open the door to check on him. 

Maddox is kind and sweet like my older son, but if he’s pushed – he will lose control of himself. I’ve learned in the past few years that you can’t push Maddox.  Mason needs to be pushed but Maddox needs to do things in his own time. 

I’m more like Mason.  The idea of a Saturday spent alone watching television with no human interaction is enough to completely freak me out and send me into a depression.  I need people around or I get very sad. I’ve been like this since I was a kid.  Silence is pretty much a nightmare for people like me.  I fill my time with plans, activities, things to keep me busy.  Before I was parent, it never occurred to me to understand the deep rooted seed of introversion in another person.

 Maddox doesn’t exhibit signs of social anxiety yet.  He will happily go somewhere to play with friends but when he’s done he’s done.  Sometimes that’s playing tag for 15 min outside and calling it a night.  Sometime that’s leaving a birthday party early.  Sometimes that means going up to his room after dinner and not coming out until the next morning.  But he’s not an unhappy kid as long as I give him this space. 

Of course as a mother who has no clue or understanding why a people would want to be left alone, I worry about the future.  Will he suffer from depression?  Will he feel left out?    Frankly, visions of Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold have crossed my mind. 

But no. Not Maddox.  He’s my shyest but also my sweetest child.  He’s the peace maker among the group.  Last weekend on the way to the drive-in lecturing his brothers, "I love you both, but we are the fighty-est brothers in the world!" He always gives up what he loves to his brother if he asks.  I have to take extra care that he doesn’t give too much.  He spends his extra money often times on gifts for others, like the bracelet he bought for me at Disney World and he still asks me every day if I wear it. (Fuchia doesn't go with everything, my dear.)

He didn’t like to cuddle until recently, in the last 2 years and even now, it’s limited.  However, he wants me to come in while he’s sleeping and kiss him on the cheek.  If I forget one night, he tells me in the morning letting me know that I forgot and again the next night before his daily reminder for that kiss.  I try to never let myself forget.

I let him be the alone-bird because that is what he wants even if it’s not anything I can ever understand.  

My Fail Blog.

Ugh. I know I'm failing at the blog task.  I'm trying to write  a book. All good ideas are going in there.  And then rewritten. And then deemed not worthy. And then kicked to the side.  And then I drink and question why in the world I ever decided to write and publish a book. And then my husband reminds me that I should keep writing and fulfill that dream.  And then I start the process all over again.

There are many things I fail at other than blogging:

1. Math.  I am so terrible at Math that I can't help my 5th grader with his homework. I've been told to not even look at it.  I have always been bad at Math.  Since 9th grade, any time a Math test has been laid down in front of me, it has resulted in immediate sweating and nausea and doodles of cats around the edges of the paper.  I don't Math.  And now they are teaching a common core style of Math that I can't really help my first graders either.  It looks like Chinese to me.  CHINESE! If someone tells you to find the double down in the number sentence, you're going to want to punch them in the face, I promise.

2. Organization.  My 3rd grade teacher told me my desk looked like Rumpke and she was right. It still does but I can find anything I need. I enjoy disorganization where I work.  Besides in my home, I am nervous about anything with a pristine, polished look.  It doesn't make a lot of sense because I'm a Capricorn and I allegedly thrive on organization.  I do love office supplies but I don't use them properly.  A lot of my post-its are rolled up and taped so that I can build lincoln log cabins with them when I'm bored.  I save all the other post-its in a drawer. Yes. I have a post-it drawer.  You never know when I might need that phone number of that one client, that one time.  My other drawer is full of mail I don't want to open at work.

3. Keeping my cool.  I could never be a 911 operator. In my head, full of SNL Skits that I'm constantly writing, I have a hilarious one that is based on around this premise. (Don't steal that NBC, I will crush you with a lawsuit.)  When I imagine teaching my children how to drive, it starts with me screaming this sentence, 'THIS IS A GIANT DEATH MACHINE!'  To say the least, I'm not allowed to teach the children Math or how to drive.  This also goes for situations that upset me like bad customer service.  There's actually a Goodwill in my city that I was escorted out by security and told not to return to.  There's actually a few places I'm not allowed to go anymore.  The older I am, the better I do at keeping my cool, but I'm not quite where I want to be yet.

This is just a small number of things.  I'll save the rest for you to wonder about on your own time. Just kidding. Please don't wonder about me on your alone time.  That's creepy...which happens to be another thing I'm no good at: Not being creepy. I was born this way, baby.

Elf on a freaking shelf.

I don't "Elf on a shelf." I'm not that Mom. Props to those who can keep it together to do that.  This summer, I coached Masons baseball team and during the second inning of one game, I ran off the field because just then I realized that I forgot to pick him up and bring him to the game.  So no. I don't Elf on a shelf.  I barely make it through the day.

Our tooth fairy also has a lot of union holidays and I already ate all the advent candy before Christmas.

Uncorked

Something about this moment struck me as ridiculously funny.   I'm not sure If it's uncorking the bottle in the bath or the fact that I'm not even going to bother with a glass...

Fish-o-Matic

This is going to be a rangent.  (I put rant and tangent together...see what I did there?) 

I always see infomercials for things I wish I would have thought of (example pillowpets, snuggies, those seatbelt huggy friends, or those snack - drink cup combo deals.)  I always say "Ugh! WHY didn't I come up with that? Who doesn't need a sippy cup that doubles as a bowl while on a long drive in the car whilst you wear your snuggies and hug your seatbelt pal?!?" 

So I said THE next issue I have, I'm going to find a way to invent the thing that fixes my issue.  Tonight,  because I didn't properly grocery shop this weekend, I'm making fish sticks which are, questionable, at best.  

Anyway half way through the 19 minute process, I'm supposed to turn 25 fishsticks to 'the other side'.  Fine.

Have you ever opened an oven and pulled out the rack and turned 25 fish sticks one by one with heat radiating your face off while trying to avoid getting burnt AGAIN?!. By the end, seriously,  I was just stabbing fish sticks.  It was a Nemo slaughter.  Just so mad and frustrated. 
It was my infomercial moment.

"Can't get those questionable fishsticks you don't remember buying this decade to turn?! Feeling hot, burned, and stabby?! Try the Fish-o-matic!"

I need to create something that will do this for me. Would you buy it for 11.99 plus shipping and handling?! What if I threw in a free shot glass? WHAT if I DOUBLED your order?!?

How to go to Disney World

Rabbit! Rabbit!

When I was kid, Nickelodeon used to tell us on the last day of the month that ‘Tomorrow is Rabbit! Rabbit! Day’ which means you were supposed to wake up and the first words out of your mouth should be ‘Rabbit, Rabbit’ for 31 one days of Good Luck. (Raise your hand if you remember this.) I ALWAYS think of this on the last day of the month because I’m superstitious. I have not ONCE remembered to say it the next morning which means I have 18 years of attempted and failed Rabbit! Rabbit! Days. So whatever you did wrong today, you’re still okay. You didn’t fail roughly 216 times. Keep on keepin’ on…

The Pretenders...

This is what I hear a lot.  ‘So-and-so pretends to have a perfect life on facebook.’  I hear this with my friends. I hear it on the radio. I read about it in blogs.  This ‘pretending’ that we are supposedly doing if we’re happy and we show it.  That irritates me.  I KNOW people probably say that about my posts.  I can hear them in my head.  They think I’m one of the pretenders.  I post photos of my kids all the time.  I post happy stories. I am a photo freak (just ask my muchly-annoyed family) and I am constantly posting about our everyday events and activities, which I’ll even admit is a little ‘Walton-Mountain’.  And we appear happy and loved and still I KNOW people will say that I’m  a pretender. A fake.  But you’d be wrong to think that. 

Here’s something that happened. A few years ago, I posted a quote that I found.  And it was something like ‘Loneliness is failed solitude.’  Or something along those lines, I can't even remember. And I received no less than 10 phone calls in the next 24 hours, not including texts, from friends and family members who were concerned about this insignificant Pinterest quote that I liked.  It was not a reflection of anything I wanted to say or passive-aggressively nod to anyone personally.   It was just a quote.  But it was different because it was negative and people were not used to that from me.  And that felt good because I realized 2 things.  

The first was that there are many people who care about what’s going on with me and who don’t like me to be upset.  And that was pretty awesome.

The second thing was that I realized because I DON’T post negative things all the time or post about my daily annoyances and irritations, the moment I DID post something that could have been considered negative – it alarmed people that something was wrong.  Because it never happens.  

It’s so strange that I would post something like that, someone literally saw it and called me at 1AM that night.  The next day, calls at 7, 9, and 10am and throughout the day.   People were concerned, or curious, and that was so strange to me. Because, in my mind, I was just ...‘liking a quote.’

I'll say this. If I have given anyone the impression that my life is perfect, let me clear it up quick. I’m just as bad as anyone.  I scream at my kids more than I should.  I’ve been laid off.  I’ve been so broke, I didn’t know how I was going to make it.  I have to fit into a Bridesmaid dress in 3 weeks that is one size too small and I'm freaking out about it! I have been sad and angry and even rarely bitchy. Just like you. Just like anyone.   I go to God with those issues, not facebook.

I want to remember the way my boys put their arms around each other for a picture.  I want to remember the silly things that they say later.  Facebook has been a journey of their young years and recording what they’ve accomplished (and what I have survived!)  I want to remember the way Matt and I looked with chop stick walrus faces in a Sushi restaurant.  I’m not 'bragging' about these things. If I never got another ‘like’ or comment in my life, that’d be fine with me.  I appreciate the encouragement that you all give me and I love my friends and family.  I’m not ‘pretending’ to be happy.  I’ve worked really hard to be happy.  And I really, truly am.   No pretending here…

  

Stuff and things and writer's block.

I am supposed to be working on my book but I've hit the wall. It's not that I've run out of insight and embarrassing, self deprecating stories about myself...it's just finding the right way to organize them.  I'm also trying to be sensitive to all the people in my life who deserve anonymity and even those who don't.   Writing 'with a voice' is difficult.  Also I'm battling feelings of self importance.  I ask myself daily 'Does anyone even need to read this stuff? Will anyone truly care?' and then the worst question for any writer, 'Will this end up in a dollar store bin?'.  (Shiver)

But then I meet people or see people who have read 'stuff' and they'll introduce me to family members like this, "Mom, this is girl I told you about. The one who should write a book."  I'm both embarrassed and thrilled in these moments.  The funny thing is, I didn't even make the creative writing team in 8th grade.  I will almost certainly release my much anticipated 3rd book to the teacher who deemed me not good enough to work on the yearbook in September 1998, but also accompanied me to State finals for a writing competition in the spring of 1999.

Anyway, writers block that probably has a lot to do with the fact that I'm working a lot harder now. I switched up jobs and I'm loving my new job.  I also loved my old job, well, I loved my coworkers but it was time for a change and it was much needed.  We also moved this summer which was a huge undertaking that I never want to experience again.  We moved a lot of stuff and things. I'm sick to death of stuff and things.  And yet, I got a better job and moved into a bigger house to have more space for my 'stuff and things'. (Sigh)

I'm trying to live minimalist lifestyle with a yard sale personality.

Speaking of yard sales, Matt and I love to go to them.  We used to go every weekend that the kids are at their others.  We collect so much stuff and things.  Almost our whole house is yard sale stuff and things. The worst, however,  is when you get to one and there's a man and woman sitting in their lawn chairs while they watch you go around their garage and judge the 13 crap items they've laid out for you to choose from.  It's fine to leave a yard sale with nothing as long as there are other people there to purchase.  If you're the only people at the home, judging their things, it feels weird to just decide that their old crap isn't good enough to be your new crap and you just awkwardly saunter to your car.  I even KNOW that they probably don't care but it's nearly painful for me to walk away from an empty yard sale with nothing. That's the worst.

The BEST are the ones with the happy old lady sisters who share your exact same style in corning dishware and are blowing it out cheap along side old tinted Pyrex serving ware.  And your arms are full of new stuff that you love and won't be paying more than $7 for today and you all just laugh in the midst of your excitement over their stuff and things and their excitement for my $7 like you're old friends.  These are the ones I bond with in 15 minutes and I have to resist hugging before I leave.

Staying on topic also seems to be an issue I'm having with my writing... I'll be back soon. 

The Fast and Furious...

So I go down to the courthouse to get sworn in this morning and on my way back on 32, there is an elderly lady in her car stopped on the exit looking scared. I pull over to help her and when I do, she starts moving again. So I go about my business following her on the highway and realizing in about 30 seconds something is severely wrong. She's not going above 20mph on 32 and she's weaving all over the road obviously terrified. I am laying on my horn the whole time to keep semi's and cars going 55mph from hitting her. She's riding the middle of the white line at times. I know it's terrifying for her but she's clearly very confused. She gets off on exits and back on 32. I'm talking to 911 trying to help them get to us and honking begging her to pull over while they transfer me jurisdiction to jurisdiction. Finally back in Batavia where we started, I waved a cop down frantically. He questioned her. She is 97 years old and on her way to the DMV to take her drivers test!!! That is the slowest high speed chase I've ever been a part of...

I can't let go of things...

I know that this argued to death in the 1990's but I feel the need to say it now. In season 3 episode 15, Ross cheats on Rachel with the Xerox girl. Then they fight for the next 7 years over if they were 'on a break' during the night due to their fight beforehand. In the first few moments of season 3 episode 16, Monica asks Rachel about her night and if they enjoyed celebrating their anniversary. Rachel replies 'We kind of broke-up instead.' She uses the word break-up. She didn't say 'We kind of took a break. So. Anyway. That settles that. I know none of you care like I do. But. I can't let go...

Giving my kids back their childhood.

Have you ever lied to your pediatrician about how many hours your kids watch television? I have.  I am embarrassed by how much time I've allowed my kids to sit in front of a television set. After making sure the twins didn't have access to television until they were 3 almost 4 years old, I immediately relented and used those extra moments to get things done.  It was a sigh of relief to hear the tune of 'Whooooooooo lives in a pineapple under the sea?'  It meant at least 11 minutes of freedom for myself.  'Me time.'

 

When I was a kid, I was outside all day.  I didn't want to be home. By the time I was in 4th grade, the same age as my oldest son, I was already traveling to the park miles away from my home crossing the busiest street in town against my Mother's rules (I was only hit by a car once!) and exploring the woods and crossing the creek on rocks and only rarely falling in.  I was alone back then a lot.  My siblings were older.  I didn't have to be out with a group of friends. I would imagine whole scenarios and just live them.  I was a princess. I was a cop. I was an Indian. I was whatever I wanted to be.

 

Some would be shocked that I wasn't drowned or murdered but I wasn't scared to leave the house at 10am and come back at 9pm grabbing food from wherever during the day.  And I'd call my mom from a friends house or a grocery store to check in, (remember pay phones?) but I was free.  It was the freest I'll ever be in life. It was wonderful. I was 10 or 11 years old. Life meant living.

 

I have 3 boys.  Ethan (9) and one of the twins, Maddox (6) have spent most of their time indoors. Mason (6) has my need to be outside and my curiosity of the open world.  I've known about the television issue for too long before I did something about it last week. My kids are addicted.  They love their video games, electronics, and satellite television with 14 different cartoon flavored channels.  And children's television, even Nickelodeon and Disney, can be disgusting for kids.  

 

Go ahead and turn on the television an imagine being a 5 year old. I bet within 2 minutes, you will hear something you find inappropriate for your own children.  Switch channels. Give it 2 minutes and the same thing will happen.  I should have turned off the television the first time Ethan came home from Kindergarten and told me he wanted to 'make out' with a 2nd grader on his bus.  When I asked him where he heard that, he said 'iCarly'.  I should have turned the television off then.

 

Ethan is not even bad.  It's harder with Maddox.  I don't know what Maddox enjoys.  I have a 6-year-old-boy and I don't even know what makes him happy because he's literally always stuck on something electronic. If you asked me what makes him smile, I would have said 'Anything with buttons.'   It's not that I don't try to talk to him. He doesn't have a lot to say.  I don't push because he gets frustrated easily so I let him do his thing. Which means he's far away from me a lot.  Mentally, emotionally, physically. I've always thrown this one out to others, 'Oh Maddox? He does his own thing.'  That's unacceptable for any family.  I needed a change. I craved a change. 

 

My feelings on television are that I could honestly live without it.  I'm a book nerd.  If no one else is home, the TV is rarely on anyway. I'm usually in a book or reading the internet or working. I have it because of sports, basically, and the kids. 

 

Spring had sprung with warmer weather last week and Matt and I have talked a lot about the boys and how to get them outside more. We compared notes of growing up and never wanting to be inside. That was punishment. We wanted to be out and free and on our bikes in our neighborhoods. We had similar backgrounds of play ground baseball games and homemade bike ramps.  So that led us to 'Why do the kids never want to leave the house?'  And we knew it was because of television. It's because of Xbox. It's because of tablets, computers, minecraft.  It's because as adults,  we are also obsessed by these things.  I'm ashamed to say I am one of the worst offenders. 

 

I made a decision to pack the Xbox away the minute the boys got to my house for the week and rushed inside, and searched for controllers before saying hello or wrapping me up in a hug after being at their Dad's for the week. I packed everything up and hid it away.  I explained to the boys that it's gone. For the summer. there will be no video games in our house.  And the weather was nice that day, so when they picked up the remote, I took it away and said, 'No. Go outside.  We have a trampoline, a basketball hoop, scooters for everyone, toys for days, etc.  Get outside.'  And they stared at me and then each other, and then they went outside.  And I could hear them laughing as I loaded the dishwasher.  It was wonderful. 

 

So when I woke up the next morning, I reiterated again that there would be no television, computer, tablets, etc until 7pm. They would have an hour to watch television before bed. And they didn't argue.  They just accepted it.  And they played together again. All day. The next day, it rained, but I didn't relent.  So they found board games and they spent time drawing and writing all day.  And I spent more time with them.  We talked more.  We played catch.  We enjoyed each other's company. There's more hugs, more talking, more brotherhood, better parenting, and more understanding. So I did it again today.  And I'll do it again tomorrow. 

 

Maddox, who I really thought would melt down after I took his favorite thing in the world away: His Xbox, he just looked sad for a few minutes.  He has asked to watch television a couple times during the day and I only caught him sneaking it in his room once.  He's doing okay. This is a big adjustment for them, but they are handling it so well. I'm so proud of them. Every day that goes by, I end the night pleasantly surprised that I did it again.  And I know it's the right thing because honestly - everyone is actually happier.

 

It's absolutely true. My kids are happier. They've spent so much time bonding over the last few days.  There's less fighting.  There's more cooperation.  They work together now on things and they talk all day long to each other. The more I see what's happening with my kids, the more poisonous I believe television is for kids.  My eyes are opened. 

 

And it's not just me.  I posted on facebook and some parents took an interest. They have written to me and have been inspired to give their kids back their childhood which I think is awesome!  I know one day these kids will all say this, 'The best thing my parents every did for me was turn off the television.'  I know that to be true.  I've never looked back fondly on my childhood remembering the great television I watched.  I think back to playing hoops in an alley behind a friend's house no-blood-no-foul-style. I remember flashlight tag in the dark.  I reminisce exploring the woods and carving my name into a tree.  I want that for my children.  I want experiences, exploration, and education. I want a life lived well.

 

What will our kids remember? 

 

 

You should see what happens when you give kids back their childhood.  It's a beautiful thing. 



Netflix has decided that I'm a Lesbian.

I don't even know...

Things I shouldn't say.

I once worked with a douchebag banker who said that men were like a good investment because they became more distinguished and more valuable with time. And women were like a bad stock - the minute you bought them, they would plummet in worth. Ugh.  Eff you, banker man. I still distrust a man in a peacoat to this day over that conversation.  I sincerely hope he got married and his new wife ceased all BJs immediately.

I went through my midlife crisis when I turned 23. That will surprise many of you but turning 23 was hard for me.  I remember laying in bed for a week with the shades drawn shut and leaving a super depressing voicemail greeting that made people stop by and check on me. I always appreciated my youth and started mourning it even at 15 years old. 

But now, I'm 30. And F%*# it!   That's what Matt has called this past year for me, 'The-F%*#-it-I'm-30' year.  I really grew a pair in recent months and it's been nice to finally say the things that piss me off that I've hidden behind pleasantries for years before.  And...there was a lot I needed to say.

All off this cumulated in me starting a book called 'Things I shouldn't say'.   That's a working title, mind you, but it's pretty much accurate so far.  And everyone is a little frightened by what the book will say.  Only 2 people have read my first few chapters. One is my husband, who loves my writing and has always encouraged me but  I can clearly see veiled concerned about his mother learning about MY first traumatic tampon experience.  And there's a really awesome girl at work that I love, named Missy, who has read it.  And her only advice was to think of more creative synonyms to express the sentiment of a boner.  So far, things are going pretty well. 

Writing has always been path since my 'sad teenage girl poem' days. (Remember those guys!? Shoot me, now.)  But I've always been private about it.  Some if it is still really embarrassing.  At the request of many friends, I started this blog that as far as I can tell no one is reading and that's okay with me, fine, whatever.

It's a struggle for me to say things diplomatically and without wondering who I'm going to offend when I write each chapter.   The one I've spent the most time on is a chapter called 'This one is going to piss my friends off.'  I've rewritten it many times.  I don't want to tick anyone off.  But I want to say how I feel after years of being a people pleaser and doing what everyone else thought was best, I'm ready to just burst. And it's not against anyone. If anyone, my work is self-depreciating.  Which is hilarious because it's so easy as I'm a super great target to poke fun.  I mean, seriously people, I have messed up big.  And it's hysterical.

Either way, part of this growing older thing is me being more honest with myself and with others. I mean, I'm 30. I'm sick of playing by everyone's rules and living in the box.  If I have to watch my hair turn gray strand, by strand, then I'm going to do it with laughter and have fun. I don't think anyone should get a wrinkle before they decide what they want to be when they grow up, but that is the curse of time. And so much has been wasted and we only get to be here once. 

And I want to write this book. So I'm going to.

Have this talk TONIGHT!

Here's how you educate your kids on Heroin. You sit your young children (ages 9+) down tonight and tell them that if they try heroin once - they will die. Because in many cases - it will be true. They will be addicted after the first time and that path will lead to their death. The ONLY WAY to stop this monster is to start educating kids about it. No one else is going to do it for you. Do NOT rely on DARE or the school to tell your kids that drugs will kill them. Sit them down tonight and tell them that Heroin will kill them THE FIRST TIME they try it. Because in reality - it is killing them from Day 1. Heroin addicts are just burying their friends and waiting until their number is called. Do the hard stuff, parents. Be the bad guy. Check their phone. Meet their friends. Get in their business. Teach them coping skills so that they don't need drugs to escape. But if you do nothing else - Make sure they know that Heroine is a killer and not like anything this world has ever seen. They WILL DIE if they try it. Tell them if they go to public school or private school. Tell them if they are 8 or 18. Tell them if they play sports or if they play an instrument or if they play Minecraft. Tell them if they get good grades or if they struggle. Tell them and then remind them and remind them again. Scare them from ever wanting to try one drug - and you are saving their lives.