TT It's In My Job Description

My job is to like and care about other people's children. Well it's not really in my job description, but it should be. If you don't like kids and don't have the capacity to care about them, then you should not be a preschool teacher.

I've had the pleasure of working with young children for the better part of my life. I have the best job (if you like kids). Everyday I start my day to enthusiastic hellos, cheers and hugs. I get to listen to the beetles, sing, and do art with them. I get to be silly and myself, everyday. I get to see the world through the eyes of someone experiencing it for the first time, with awe and wonder.

Not all kids are awesome. Some kids have dicks for parents, or just happen to be unempathetic punks. But in my classroom I have a chance to change that. To help that child, to help that parent.

Right now we're about half way through the year and it's amazing how much my kids have changed.

Notice how I said my kids. I love the kids in my class. While they're in my care, they're mine. At least in my heart. When I first started working with kids, at the end of every school year I would cry. It's hard to say goodbye. As the year's passed I got used to it. I'm not necessarily less sad to see them go, but I've accepted it.

Plus because I've worked in the same school for so long, I run into the kids and their parents from time to time. When I do, they greet me warmly. Sometimes with a hug. Always with pictures and updates. Which is wonderful, because I still care about those kids.


This post is part of  a multi blogger collaboration. To read others feelings about OPK or to include your own, click the TT button.

Scary Thoughts

Tickets to the gun show? Me at my strongest.

It wasn't so many years ago, but right now it feels like it.

Once upon a time, I was a strong girl. Physically, visibly  strong. I worked really hard to be that fit. I was really proud of myself and had a lot of confidence in my athleticism. I have had a life long love of athletes and the human body. Particularly athletic women. I was pretty sure I would never be model thin, and honestly I wouldn't want to be. But an athlete? In my dreams, I could be. I have always been amazed at what people can do if they are focused and work hard. Boy did I work hard. If I won the lotto today, like a set for life amount, I would start training to be an Iron (wo)Man. But I digress.  

In that picture I weight 125 lbs. I was a strong woman, more athletic and stronger than some men. Occasionally in the back of my mind though, I would still know that if pinned down, I might not be able to get away. Some person, could assault me and rob me of all my security. I hated that feeling. 

This week, driving to work I heard a story on NPR about women in Cairo being sexually assaulted at protest (and how they are fighting back). In some cases gang raped in the streets as they fought for their (Egyptians) collective rights. I felt sick to my stomach for these women, and sicker as I heard Egyptian politicians and even other women saying that if these women didn't want to be assaulted they should stay home. Worse, if they were respectable, honorable women they wouldn't be getting raped (as stated by a 53 year old woman). I teared up as this woman's belief was translated. Luckily I had already pulled into the parking lot of my work. 

I thanked God that I had a son. Then felt ashamed. Horrified at myself, that my first thought was that Animal wouldn't know the fear that sometimes comes with being a woman. Sad, about all the women in the world that know that fear daily, not in the back of their minds. Weak at my inability to protect them. Embarrassed that I don't fight for women's rights. Not in any small way.

I hope and believe, I (and the hubby of course) will raise a man that respects women. That treats a women as an equal and wouldn't take advantage of his size or strength to take anything from any female that wasn't willingly giving of herself. Is that enough? In my heart I know it isn't. Not nearly even close to enough.

I used to do volunteer work, and that always made me feel like I was contributing to the greater good. I don't do that anymore.

I wanted to be a revolutionary. To fight for social justice. For civil rights. For humanity. I don't do shit. Not really. The occasional good deed doesn't do anything to fix the systemic problems of this world.

So I kind of do the only thing I feel like I can honestly do.

I keep my eyes, my mind, my heart open. I watch the documentaries, read the articles, see the homeless on the street. I don't pretend they don't exist. I give when I can, what I can. I think and am heartbroken, and am enraged. I pray.  I try to learn what's our there in my community that I can get behind, where I can refer someone if they confide in me that they need the help. I read, research and campaign for the causes, props, and politicians I believe in.

Is that enough? No. I don't know another way to be. Without dropping out of "life" how can I do enough?

For Women Only Edition

This post was updated today. So that I could use in the ABC's of Swearing, because when I Googled curse words that begin with the letter V, all I found over and over, was Vagina and Va JayJay.

Vagina? Really? Can I just say that offends me as a woman that Vagina would be considered even on one list a bad word. Va JayJay? maybe, if only because it isn't proper.

Without further ado,

Is my vagina broken?

The first thing I do after I start menstruating each month is find my hubby (if it's the weekend) or wait for his call so that I can say, "Guess who's not pregnant? Me!". Then shortly after using my first tampon, I ask this question: Is my vagina broken?

 I'm not trying to be funny. I really, honestly ask myself this question every month.

Before baby, I had a really light period. 3 days and done. Now after baby, it's still basically 3 days, and only the first day is heavy (just like before) but now, I leak. I don't mean I pee when I sneeze or laugh, like at 9 months pregnant. I mean that I have to wear a panty liner for the entirety of my cycle, and the reason I do is because no matter how light or how recently I changed my tampon it leaks.

WTF? Is this normal? Am I going to go through the rest of my life going through a ton of panty liners and tampons? I'm considering just using pads. Am I crazy? At first I thought maybe I'd forgotten how to use a tampon. I even re read the instructions. I'm doing it right.

So what's the problem? I haven't googled for fear of what kind of sights it might refer me to, but I have a consultation for tubal ligation with my Ob/Gyn coming up and I plan to talk to her about it then.

In the meantime. Every time I get my period and leak I want to tweet, Is my vagina broken? I restrain myself, but as this post was written specifically for the Honest Mom hop, I decided to share.

Anybody have any ideas? The hubby says I'm just old now. Is that it?

UPDATE: My Va JayJay is just fine. The consultation was rescheduled (by the doctor, not me), but I started trying different brands, and I found one! I found one that works. I'm so happy. Thank you to all the women who left comments when I first posted this.

This post was brought to you
by the letter 'V'

Clos La Chance an Amateur Review

Like what I've done with the magnet letters?

So some of you that read this occasionally or follow me on twitter know that I hate chardonnay. My sweet and loving husband made me a tasty halibut and because he's all about the details, of course he had to have a bottle of white wine for me.

The bad news, he wanted me to drink it!

The good news, it was a bottle of of 9.99 Clos La Chance, perfect for my cheap wine reviews and  he wanted a review which I would love to write. 

First, back to the bad news, I had to drink the wine. I didn't do it the night I ate the fish. Or the next night. Or the night after that. Finally after I killed the delicious pinot, I cracked open the chardonnay.

It was not good. I couldn't get over it not being what I like to drink. Then I got a buzz. Then I was happy.

Take two. The following night, once I was over the shock and sadness I poured myself another glass and prepared myself to be fair and not a snobby asshole. 

It was crisp and tasted like a pear not very oaky and less dry than most chardonnay. It would have paired very well with the halibut or other white fish. If you like white wine, I would venture to guess you'd enjoy this. I got a buzz and so I enjoyed it too, Don't take more than two nights to drink. The third night was not a good night, that night it was SUPER dry.

If I was forced to buy a bottle of chardonnay for something, like maybe a friend who only drinks white I have no such friends I would pick this. 

Ménage à Trois An Amateur Review

So as I mentioned last week I attended a woman's event. In the promo it said, "Wear your favorite shade of red". When your a fat girl, you probably don't feel good in red. Or that could just be me, but the only red things I own, don't currently fit. So I had nothing to wear. 

At these events you are also encouraged to bring  a snack so I decided to bring one of my favorite red things, a bottle of wine. I bought this bottle at Costco for 6.99. I liked the name, and with Valentine's day around the corner I thought it whimsical. You may remember not long ago I said I would be staying away from wine while I was on WW, but who was I kidding, besides myself? It wasn't you, was it?

This is a blend of Pinot, Cabernet and Merlot, and you know what? I was very surprised. I had a small glass just about 10 seconds after uncorking and it was good! It was very sweet , almost desserty (not a real word). I really enjoyed this cheap drink. The cons, I didn't get a little buzz after a 5 oz glass. (Forget you know I like a 10 oz glass) even though I'm on WW, and because I am, one drink is usually enough. 

Everyone seemed to enjoy. Good cheap buy. Not great if you donc't kill that same day.

TT I Love...

There are lots of things I love, I'm gonna *try* to keep this brief...

I  

Running. Hiking. Beaches. Roller Coasters. Riding my bike with a friend. Climbing rocks. Wine. Cocktails. Being inebriated, often. Writing. Pizza My Heart (the best pizza chain). Seafood. Pancakes. Coffee. Good Sex. Shopping. Lazy, drunk, yummy food filled, Football Sundays. Having cash to spend at Whole Foods. Gift cards. Being barefoot. Walking with a friend. Spring. Warm sun shinny days. Children. Art Galleries. Theme Thursdays. Finding stenciled graffiti on the streets (preferably the sidewalk, when I'm with the hubby so I can take a picture of our feet next to it). Books. Reading. Plays. Walking around theaters. Downtown. Sushi. Buying clothes/shoes/toys/books for Animal. Watching him. Compliments. Christmas. Tamales. Traditions. Family time. God. Scrapbooking. Taking pictures. Documentaries. Seeing movies first, before I get any ones input. Movie popcorn. Good movies. Sad movies. True to life movies. Fun movies. Flowers. When the hubby makes me dinner. Calaveras. Being a woman. Toystores (even before kids). Nap time. Bedtime, Animals and mine. Waking up early, but well rested with the whole day ahead of me. Fucking Weight Watchers. Hugs from little children. Things kids say. How kids think. Breakfast. Desserts. Fruit. Veggies. A bargain. TV. Netflix. Thinking. Depeche Mode. Laughing. Lakes. Swimming. Fishing. My DVR. Pajamas. My phone. Twitter. My laptop. Apps. Memories. Reminiscing. Parties. The holiday season. Breastfeeding. Magazines. Cartoons. Socks. Costco deals. Ice cream.

I'm sure I could think of LOTS of other things I love, but in order to be brief, and genuine I wrote only the things I could think of in 10 minutes. (Fastest TT post I've ever written, maybe the funnest...)

 This post is part of a multi blogger collaboration. To read what kinds of things tickle other people's fancy or to share the things you love click the TT button.

Weight Watchers

Guys as you know I joined weight watchers in January.

On the 19th to be exact.

I had been mulling it over for sometime. As I just couldn't do it on my own. I took my sweet time because I just honestly couldn't afford it. I have lots of important things in my budget and the truth is that I know what to do to lose the weight. I don't NEED WW.

Except that I totally do.

There's something about having to step on the scale every week in front of an often older woman, who has lost 40, 60, 100 lbs and kept it of for 5, 10, 20 years.

If you have a shitty week and couldn't stick to the program, you're up .5 lbs or more, their genuine and understanding questions like, "what happened this week?", really help. No matter what you answer, "I couldn't resist the cake", "I binged all weekend", "We went on vacation this week", they just nod in a knowing way, smile and encourage you, "what will you do differently this week...". I just need that.

I'm super competitive, it's hard for me to sit there every week and not try to do better. A lot of people there have a lot more weight to lose than I do. They keep at it. I can too.

The meetings are great. I have a lot of food issues. I'm addicted. (kind of like with alcohol, except that I need food), WW gives me the tools I need to eat in moderation. I'm about to share a big secret with you.

I have been an unofficial member of OA (over eaters anonymous) before. I have sat in my car and participated in phone meetings before. When I was skinny. Just because you "look" normal (maybe better than "normal") doesn't even kind of mean you are. I've tried talking about it with my friends and family, but they were very dismissive about it. It's not their fault. If your not an obese cow and you look great, workout and everything, they think you're exaggerating. Or maybe that your being hard on yourself. WW gives me the tools I need to see what it is I need (including treats and indulgences with a clear line in the sand).

Don't be worried about me. Since I became pregnant something in my brain switched. I haven't binged once. Not even when faced with an emotional trigger. I have pigged out, but that's not the same thing. When you binge your not eating till it hurts, you're eating till something inside of you is full.

Don't get me wrong it hurts, but it also fills something inside of you. It quiets a voice, subdues an emotional hurt that can't be subdued in any other way. Comforts you when there's no consolation. Being a mom, somehow filled me.

Anyway back to WW. I'm four weeks in. I've lost my first 10.6 lbs. As promised here is the post to let you all know where I am. I weigh the same thing I weighed a week after Animal was born. A pound away from weighting the least I've weighed since his birth.

10 pounds away from what I think a normal person weights.

19 lbs more than I weighed when I found out I was pregnant.

32 away from my goal.

I'm not sure when to update you next. So I'm going to leave it up to the comments. I could do again in about a month, just after my 35th birthday. Or as promised when I shared this goal with you at the halfway mark, in 10 more pounds or so, I'm a super shitty math student, I'll figure it out what that number is later. I don't want to bore anyone with my weight issues. Or pat myself on the back too hard. It's a struggle and a journey I don't mind sharing or keeping to myself.

Poppy Pinot Noir An Amateur Review

This year for Valentine's Day, the hubby did something unexpected.

He bought me 2 bottles of wine.

My husband was a bohemian before he became a married man.

He was always here and there, between homes, or had roommates. He was a social butterfly, and often someones friend with benefits.

Once we got married, to appease me he says (because he's an all or nothing kind of guy, not unlike  myself) he became a hermit. He hates talking to people he doesn't know, but for this gift he spoke to the wine guy at Whole Foods.

This bottle would not qualify for my regular cheap wine reviews, I like to stick to the 9.99 and under crowds. But when he gave me this gift he said, "I expect a review".

So here it is folks.

I'll be honest, as I didn't buy it, I don't know list price, but I heard that it was over 20 dollars.

You know what?

I hated it! Because it was delicious and supple.

It was the perfect amount of sweet but earthy. Tastes of blackberries and strawberries, Mmm yummy. It was smooth and light and would pair well with halibut or salmon. All the good things you want in a Pinot Noir.

I don't have 20+ dollars to be spending on wine. That's what I spend on liquor! Not on something I'm likely to kill in a day. BOO! It was really good, I'm gonna likely buy it the next time I see, or wish I was buying, when I buy a seven dollar bottle of Ménage à Trois. I hate when I really want to drink something specific but the logical part of my brain says, "that's almost half a tank of gas..."

Anyway, If you have more money to spend on something your going to drink in 2hrs, I highly recommend.

Also thank you hubby for the thoughtful and very good pick. I loved it and gave it to drunk thumbs up!

I'm not really getting fancy on you folks,
this was a gift.

TT Pet Peeves

Pet peeves, every one has them. I have a lot. Like I hate when people don't use their blinkers. People who cut in lines. People that are rude to servers/baristas/sales clerks. Parents at playgrounds on their phones, ignoring their misbehaving offspring. Today I'm going to focus on just one...

Lately I've been listening to The Grouch a lot, and he's got this one song Artsy, I fucking LOVE this song.

You ever run into someone that thinks they're the most cultured, most sophisticated, creative person? They're always doing the coolest thing with the most amazing you fill in the blank. They are not only the shit (according to themselves, and if they're good looking a couple of folks around them that can't wait to/are fucking them) but they also show they're better than everyone else by doing some annoying thing like being a vegan, a minimalist, only reading 18th century poetry or only watching IFC.

None of those things are annoying to me in and of themselves. I think it's cool to be an individual. What's annoying is when someone brags about their lifestyle like it's a requirement to be able to understand/appreciate/contribute to the art world in some way.

Slightly less annoying but more rampant are the douche bags that think they know art just because they follow whatever is trendy at the moment. There's nothing wrong with that either but don't present yourself as a lover of the arts if you don't know anything except what someone told you, you should like. Example wearing a bunch of OBEY and when someone says "oh you like Shepard Fairey" and their response is "who's that?". Or "I didn't know you where into graffiti" and their response is horror and denial.

There are all kinds of artist out there, and an infinite amount of mediums. Some create music, with their voices, a musical instrument, with some one else's music. Some paint. With paint, oh so many kinds of paints, on canvas, wood, buildings, sidewalks, paper. Some take pictures. Some sculpt. Some build things. Some use words, to tell a story, write a poem, a song, paint a picture...


This post was part of a multi blog collaboration. That's all I had to say about pet peeves. If you feel like having your own little rant or you want to know what drives others ever closer to insanity click the TT button.

Dearest Little Sister,

I've been thinking of you so much, so often. I know you wouldn't know it from the amount of phone calls and text you get from me, and for that I am sorry.

You live so close now and we see so little of each other. I take full responsibility for not being around more. I often plan to call or ask you out, but life gets in the way. It's not an excuse, you're always so gracious about it, but we could be texting. We could be getting together occasionally. We could be staying connected.

I love you. I want to be there for  you. I want us to stay close. I want to continue making memories with you. I want to keep laughing with you.

If someone were to ask me what kind of girl my sister is, I would say, She's the kind of girl that can kick your ass, but doesn't. She's the kind of girl that when she loves you, she is loyal to a fault. She will listen and love you for as long as you need. She doesn't show her cracks and she's good at making you feel like she can handle anything. I think she can, but I still wish she would tell me when she needs me.

You're important to me. I want you to know that. I want us to commit to spending some time together. I promise to start texting you more. That's a line of communication that is always open, no matter how busy and harried I feel/I am. I hope from that small step we can take more.

I love you.

Your neglectful older sister,

The Hardest Part Of My Life Is...

The hardest part of my life is...
That was the topic at the Red Tent this afternoon. When I saw the topic I have to admit I wasn't feeling it. This is gonna be deep. Tears are likely to be shed, I thought, but I love attending. I have never regretted it. 
My friend Nursing Student signed us up, I didn't think about it all week.
Sunday, I ditched the hubby and Animal, and took a little time for myself. 
Listening to the other women speak, as always, I was amazed how different/the same we really are. The most wonderful thing about these gatherings is how connected you feel to the women around you, yourself and yes I'm gonna say it the world.
The other women spoke about procrastination, fear of the unknown, fear of change, about clutter, forced hiatus, loneliness, missions, being their own worst enemies, loss, and discipline.  I knew about two minutes in what I was going to talk about. Listening to the other women I realized how much more I had to say. 
All of the women's stories touched me, but there was one in particular that had nothing to do with what I was going through, but that touched me it this tender spot I have in my heart when I think about the future.  When the doctor told us I would be having a boy, I had this moment where I realized I would never share any special moment where I would recognize the women my baby was becoming. I mourned that loss for a millisecond, because I always knew I would have a baby boy. There was a woman there with her two daughters. It was touching to listen to the mom and the oldest daughter talk about recognizing the change from child to adulthood. It's hard to imagine, and at the same time not hard at all.
It, the Red Tent, as always provided a release. It allowed me to let go and share some things I've been holding onto for a long time. It also allowed me to recognize and respect my truths. Highlight of my afternoon, I met another working mom of a 15 month old! Here in my own hometown. We exchanged info and are planning a play date. I can't tell you how exciting this is for me. Thanks to blogging, thanks to Theme Thursdays I don't feel so lonely, but a real life mommy friend is much needed. I don't mean to sound all stalky so early in the meeting of a potential friend. The fact that she is a woman that is willing to frequent the Red Tent makes me feel hopeful that we have something besides our kids age in common. I'll keep you posted...

TT Playing With Fire

Valentine's Day is just around the corner and that serves as a reminder that I'm playing with fire.

Let me explain...

Two years ago, over Valentine's Day weekend the hubby made me a delicious dinner. I drank lots of wine. We listened to a lot of LMFAO, did a lot of dancing and a lot of getting down. A couple of weeks later I realized that my period was late (thanks to my awesome ovulation app). So just to be safe I stopped drinking and headed to the doctors office.

I was really nervous. I wasn't ready to be pregnant. I wasn't ready to possibly be responsible for another life. I wasn't ready to be a good role model. Mostly I wasn't ready to push a watermelon through my vagina.

When the nurse came in the room my mind was racing with all the shit I wasn't prepared for, as she wrote my blood pressure down in my chart, on the counter facing the wall, she said to me, "Since your pregnant, the doctor will have to come talk to you and discuss your next doctors visit." and she walked out. My eyes filled with tears from shear terror, just kidding I didn't know what being a mom was really like yet of joy, it stunned me honestly, and I was filled with a peace that hasn't left me yet.

I called my hubby and I could hear him getting choked up with excitement and joy. I told him I'd call him right back because the doctor was coming back in the office.

That's what those first moments were like for me. Just over 38 weeks from that fateful Valentine's Day weekend, I became a mom. It's been a beautiful life sucking blessing.

Now here we are (almost) two years later. With a rambunctious toddler who never stops seriously, he never stops . Joining Weight Watchers to help me lose the baby weight that I have not lost which is all of it but my son and the placenta . Still trying to get back to running. Still trying to get back to sleeping 8 hours a night Animal's doing it, but if I want any time to myself I have to get it while he sleeps. Still learning to work the new family budget. Thinking of all this reminded me that I should be getting my period soon. So I was checked on my ovulation app. First thing I notice is that I'm already a day late according to it, but I'd never been what you call regular, so I *try* not to panic.

The next day joyfully, I start menstruating. Then I notice something. I will be most likely to conceive the weekend before Valentine's day. The time the hubby and I are most likely to be getting down. I didn't/have not resumed taking birth control after my son was born. It can mess with your milk supply and as previously stated that was very important to me. Now that my milk supply is not really important, I just feel done with the pill. So every month I do this dance.

The hubby and I are being super old school and using the (very Catholic) pull out/rhythm method combo.

Plus, I'm getting older. You can't be on birth control your whole life and since menopause is years away I decided tubule ligation is the way to go, for me. I wanted it done right after Animal was born, but my OB/GYN has a strict six month if it's your first rule. I should have done it last summer but I had a bad case of child induced zombie(hood) going. I couldn't get shit down.

So here I am, two year's later. Playing with fire. Maybe it's because we're gluttons for pain we love being parents. Or because we love Animal so much and we want another baby. We both have siblings and feel a little guilty of depriving him from having that wonderful experience. But we would feel more guilty not being able to provide for two children. It's not the day to day I'm worried about, hell we have got A LOT of baby gear. It's the extras like diapers, swim lessons, pal, tutoring, vacations, and the extras that aren't extra at all, like health insurance and a college education. It just wouldn't be fair to Animal, us or this imaginary baby the hubby and I (secretly) long for.

So happy Valentine's Day. Use protection.


  This post is a part of a multi blogger collaboration, to join in the fun and link up, or to keep the good times going just click the TT button.

The Big Boy

 

 

One Morning I thought I heard a cat meowing. It was weird because our cat wasn't very vocal and she was on the opposite side of the room, but I was certain that I heard meowing. I went on about my morning routine, still hearing an occasional meow. I thought I must be going crazy, but decided to look out side and see if maybe there was a cat stuck on the tree out side our apartment window. There on our welcome mat sat a handsome kitty. Just meowing  at our front door. I ran to the bedroom to wake my husband up because I still kind of thought I might be loosing it. There couldn't really be a cat that we didn't know meowing at our front door, could there?

 

I'm not sure what the hubby thought when I disturbed his slumber to tell him this tall tale of a cat meowing at our door, but he ran to the window to check it out. Sure enough, I wasn't insane (yet) and he too saw this dapper kitty asking to come in. He opened the door and very likely our hearts to this robust feline.

 

From that day forward, when ever this kitty saw us coming, or pulling in he would run down from a tree or from around the corner and up the stairs to our front door and greet us there. We gave him water, food and a good dose of affection at every meeting.

 

One night there was a storm, the hubby and I decided to let him spend the night. In the morning he was meowing at the door ready to go back to where ever it was that he went when he was not spending his time with us.

 

There were more storms and more nights that we let him stay with us. Then we got to thinking that maybe it was time to make this a permanent arrangement. We already had one indoor kitty and it would not be fair to her if this kitty, handsome and awesome as he was, just came and went as he pleased. So after much deliberation and a discussion with the fellow himself. El Topo became an official member of our family.

 

Every body that ever met him (that wasn't heartless allergic) loved him. There was no way not to love this cat. He was friendly, loving  and goofy. Like a dog. He was 13.5 lbs. that's a big cat for those of you not familiar with cats. I have so many wonderful memories of him. When Animal was born we joked, Topo would be the dog our boy needed.

 

We had two cats. Topo we would say was the hubby's spirit, Puma was mine. But when I had to say goodbye to my first baby boy, I felt like my spirit died a little too.

 

Before we had Animal our kitties were our babies. If you've never had a pet, that maybe sounds silly and childish, but if you've ever had a pet that was really a part of your family you know these innocent creatures are not just a joy, sometimes an annoyance, they are always an important responsibility you don't want to be without.

 

I can't tell you how heavy my heart is, how empty my home feels or much he will be missed.

 

 Big Boy, thank you for picking us to be your family.