The Purpose-Seeking Life

Wow...it's been almost a year since I've written here. I left feeling uninspired, and thought there was little more to say, but I guess when it hits, it hits, right?

Most of the time I write - sometimes in jest, sometimes not - about the freedoms I have that parents don't have.  It's also no secret that I'm constantly in the mode of soul-searching, and constantly trying to find what my course in life is/should be.  Well, today, it donned on me that there is something parents have that I don't:  a sense of purpose.

Parents, you are liberated from the torment of trying to figure out your purpose in life.  You wake up every morning and go to bed every night with the fulfillment of having someone to care for; your responsibility is self-evident every time you see, hear, smell, or touch your child.  You get to utilize your God-given ability to love and nurture a life.  Every day.

Granted, I am quite aware of the sacrifices and trade-offs that come with that responsibility.  I know there are times it's tough to cope with the noise, the sicknesses, the hard choices, the natural growing pains, both emotionally and physically.  But you get to help them.  You get to guide them.  You get to shape them.  You get to direct them.  I don't get to do any of that.

Although I don't regret the choice I made to get divorced and move home almost 6 years ago, I can say with 1000% certainty that I lost my sense of purpose when I left teaching.  Despite the hardships, the bureaucracy, the mental and emotional anguish I endured, my heart has never left the classroom.  I think that's why I've jumped from job to job since I came back, because I've been so desperately seeking my new purpose.  But I don't think there is a new one.

It's not often that I express envy for parents, because quite frankly, I don't want to be one.  However, this is one facet of life that I lack, and although parenting definitely has its challenges, it certainly has its rewards.

Oh, Baby

When I made the decision to live a child-free life, I knew there would be some biological choices I would have to make.  In order for me to be child free, I have to ensure pregnancy prevention.  There are lots and lots of options out there, but my chosen method is the Depo-Provera injection.  I get one every 3 months, and it works like a charm.  It also does not affect my blood pressure, so that's definitely a plus.

So, I'm newly addicted to this clothing line from LuLaRoe.  If you haven't heard of it, get on it.  Their leggings are so soft and creamy that they make you want to just rub your legs all day, errday.  Anyway - I was on a LuLaRoe board the other day, chattering about random things, and somehow birth control came up.  I don't remember how or why, but it did.

Some girls talked about how their doctors stress IUD's, but personally, they freak me out.  I have discussed that option with my doctor several times, and as much as she has recommended it, the risks outweigh the benefits for me.  Lots of ladies opened up about their side effects from Depo: heavy or never-ending cycles, dizziness, anemia, significant weight gain, etc.  I have not experienced any of those things; in fact, I don't have periods at all, which I think is pretty awesome.

It was only a matter of time before a lady with a holier-than-thou attitude chimed in with her thoughts on the matter.  It's unlikely that she will read this blog at all, but I will keep her name out of it anyway.  Her comment, verbatim: "Not ok nor normal to take a man-made chemical to stop the natural womanly cycle.....can't imagine what the doctors side effects pamphlet looks like for that."

I had to read it a couple times and let it sink in; she was the only person in the entire thread to be so incredibly judgmental, and that was also the only comment she made the entire time.  She is clearly not one of those people to look at both sides of any equation, and probably didn't even think about all the women who don't even need a "man-made chemical" to stop their "natural womanly cycle."  I could have responded in a number of ways, as I'm sure some of you could imagine, but I opted for something mild:  "Well, I don't want kids. Ever. How many doctors do you know that will perform an elective tubal ligation on someone who has never borne a child?"

I have never discussed this option with my doctor, because the shot has worked so well for me, but now that Phil is here, and I'm growing tired of pumping myself full of hormones, it's moving to the forefront of my mind.  The problem with it is that I haven't heard of or met a doctor that will perform an elective tubal ligation.  I've been reading discussions and articles and forums, and it appears that the #1 explanation doctors give their patients for refusal of elective sterilization is, "you might regret it," or "you might change your mind."  Now, I regret a lot of things in life.  I regret my first marriage.  I regret it when I drink too much because I forget I'm in my 30's now.  I regret the pizza I had for dinner last night because I got heartburn from it (thank God for chocolate milk!)  I don't want to regret getting pregnant.

After I wrote that, the wheels in my head began to turn.  I wish I could get paid for thinking because that would make me a millionaire.  Thoughts spiraled and bounced off one another in a number of directions.  The discussion continued about how doctors are not willing to perform such a procedure, and one young lady made the most poignant comment of the day:  "I'll take elective sterilization over women having abortions any day."  Just sit on that for a minute.  Wow.  She's got a point, you know.  Now, really, views on abortion are irrelevant here, and it's more complicated for me than a simple "for" or "against" anyway.  This is about the juxtaposition of termination and prevention, and the taboo ideals surrounding both.

Women's rights groups fight for the Right to Choose.  They fight for Planned Parenthood funding.  They fight for affordable women's health.  But is elective sterilization part of that fight?   Why is pregnancy termination okay, but pregnancy prevention not?  Why do I have the choice, the right, to terminate an active pregnancy, but I don't have the choice, the right to prevent any and all pregnancies without using hormones my whole life?

The more I thought about it, the more intrigued and perplexed I became: It's "okay" to choose to go and tell an abortion-performing doctor that I want to discard this living being inside of me, but it's not "okay" to choose to have a relatively simple, laparascopic procedure to responsibly remain child-free, because I might change my mind?  Last time I checked, I was an adult at 18.  I can vote, I can drink, I can serve on a jury, I can even still enlist in the military, but I'm not capable of deciding whether or not I want kids?  For that matter, in the minute chance I would change my mind, there are so many unwanted, discarded children out in the world that are just yearning for a loving home.

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Here are some links to materials I read for this entry:

http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2014-05-13/health/ct-met-sterilization-denied-20140513_1_tubal-ligation-sterilization-young-women

http://www.alternet.org/story/57935/why_do_doctors_get_to_decide_when_a_woman_is_old_enough_to_have_her_'tubes_tied'

http://www.emedicinehealth.com/tubal_sterilization/article_em.htm

Holiday Magic

When I was a kid, I don't ever remember being awake before my parents on Christmas morning.  I guess I've always been a sleeper.  I do remember us reading the passage of Luke 2 every year, and I would either play a Christmas tune on my flute or keyboard before the gift ravaging began.

Christmas over the past decade or so has sucked for me.  I, however, enjoyed this Christmas more than any of those others.  Phil is finally here to celebrate with me, and I was able to focus all of my love and energy on him.  I saved lots of money, got lots of sleep, and drank lots of cocktails without worrying about more debt, caffeine drips, or babysitters.  I didn't have to be creative or peruse Pinterest for HOURS and come up with stupid Elf doll ideas and pretend he was too tired to move because I actually forgot about him and his stupid elf-self.  I got to peruse Pinterest for cute Christmas crafts I'd never make.

On Christmas Eve, I wrapped presents while I guzzled Cranberry Vodkas, and laughed and watched Christmas movies and enjoyed myself...I stayed up late and didn't have to hide presents and negotiate with my 5-year-old that he had to go to bed because according to NORAD, Santa was 30-feet away. 

There are few things I value more than a good night's sleep.  I got to sleep until 8:30 on Christmas morning.  Aaahhhhhh what glory!!  There were no kids running into my room at 5:30 a.m., screaming "IT'S CHRISTMAS IT'S CHRISTMAS!"  and jumping on the bed, their feet landing on my face.  I didn't have to cook a breakfast that everyone was too excited to eat.  I got to have my coffee, lounge around for a little while, thank the Lord that there was no snow on the ground, fix my contribution to Christmas lunch at my brother's, and prance around in my Christmas LulaRoe ornament leggings.

My brother's house is where all the kid magic was...4 nieces later, we have presents and bows and trash bags for days.  They ripped open boxes and went from one gift to the next, their heads spinning by the time they were done because there was stuff everywhere.  And I didn't have to clean any of it up! Hahahaha!

I spent the evening at my aunt & uncle's house; my cousins and their families were there...we drank lots of wine and played Cards Against Humanity.  No rules, no restrictions...just lots and lots of fun.  Footloose and fancy free...until about 10:30 when we all decided we were too old to pull a late night.  

I have been told several times by several people that kids are the key to a magical Christmas.  The light in their eyes, the smiles on their faces, the hopes, the wishes, the elves...just simply watching their awe is enough to fill your heart with pure and utter joy.  And when Christmas morning arrives, the sheer excitement of running to the tree to see what Santa has brought is worth all of the hustle and bustle.  Well, my Christmas was pretty magical anyway....except I'm willing to bet I got more sleep than most of you! Hehehe.

Unparental Advice

I have to be careful, because sometimes I get inspired to write something and when I think about it, I have to step back because I find myself on the verge of giving parenting advice, {begin sarcasm font} which I'm totally not qualified to do {end sarcasm font.} 

It really sticks in my crawl when people tell me I don't know how to parent.  "You're not a mom, so you don't understand."  Even my family is guilty of saying this to me on a few occasions, and it drives me BANANAS.  I'm sorry, but do you know me?  Just because I'm not a parent doesn't mean I don't know how to do it.  I know some of you moms reading this are thinking that. I can get through a night of babysitting without anything being set on fire and with everyone keeping all their fingers and toes, thankyouverymuch. 

1.  I'm a woman.  I have maternal instincts because of that, and even if I were in a situation that I didn't have time to think about, good ole intuition would just take over. 

2.  I've been around kids my whole life.  I'm the oldest of my siblings, so I watched my mom raise two kids under me.  I had classmates and friends who were raised by their grandparents or who had a broken family or divorced parents.  I've seen a lot of different types of parents.

3.  I have nieces.  I know the basics:  when there's a poopy diaper, I yell for my siblings; when they have to eat, I puree it in the blender so they don't choke; when they start crying, so do I.  Car seat?  Forget it.  Got it.

4.  I was a teacher.  I'm still a teacher at heart.  OH - analogy alert.  Just hit me.  You can only understand what it's like to teach if you've done it, right?  Can you write a lesson plan with a clear, assessable objective and align the activities with the Common Core Standards?  Probably not, unless someone shows you.  Can I measure out your baby's formula amounts for an entire day?  Probably not, unless someone shows me.  Those are just logistics of the business, anyway.  Teaching and parenting are so much alike it's ridiculous.  Teachers and parents inspire, engage, motivate, encourage, guide, discipline, foster learning, act as a role model....among so many other things. 
Parents would die for their kids.  I would have died for my students, absolutely.  I would die for my nieces in a heartbeat. 
When I was in the classroom, it was evident that some kids were just so needy for all of those things.  When I was growing up, it was the implied consensus that your teacher is your parent away from home.  I think that's less of a mindset now, because society can't decide what lines or boundaries teachers can and can't cross anymore. 
I called one of my teachers "Mom" once:  Mrs. Wise, my middle school band teacher.  She was my flute mom.
My dear friend Anne, who passed away last August after losing her battle to cancer, was a Kindergarten teacher in her early years, but she never had children of her own.  At her funeral, someone said (and I'm paraphrasing here) that God never gave Anne children, so He gave her to all the children.   That's all I really want to say about that.

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I'm working at a bridal salon part time now (ICYMI, and I'm not saying which one just to take that extra step in keeping myself out of trouble) and every night, we have to clean all the mirrors.  The only reason we have to do that is because kids come in and TOUCH ALL THE GLASS, so there are sticky, greasy, sugary, dirty handprints everywhere.  E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E.  Mirrors are not red buttons - you don't have to touch them, okay?
There was a little girl a couple weeks ago tell me that she was bored and suggested that she and her sister play hide-and-seek in the racks.  Um, NO. And it's not so much that I care if she played hide-and-seek, I just didn't want to clean up the mess afterward.  You know, dresses all over the floor, broken hangers, probably some wet spots from slobber and boogers.  No, thanks.  That last one actually made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
A bridal salon is not a good place for kids under 6.  There's nothing for them to do.  They get bored.  We don't have coloring books or puzzles or one of those beaded table things.  We don't have chocolate or kittens.  But, I digress.

Moral of the story: don't be rude and don't be assumptive.  I don't imagine anyone will ever come to me for parenting advice, because I tend to be a little raw (you don't say)....but just know that I have a completely objective view and can probably give you some decent insight; honest at the very least. 

Mommy Dearest

You know, Mother’s Day means a lot of different things to a lot of different people.  When I was a kid, Mother’s Day always meant our family got up and went to church for the notorious “Honor the Mothers” ceremony where they all get a special corsage and are called out in categories to stand up in front of the entire congregation.  There was Youngest Mother, Newest Mother, Oldest Mother, Mother with the Most Kids, and I don’t even remember what else.  It was like the yearbook superlatives for mothers.  I remember enjoying that day, because all I had ever been taught was that motherhood is the ultimate calling, the only job I will ever want or need.  My duty as a woman would be to get through puberty, find a husband, then pop out a hundred kids to start the cycle all over again. 

What you didn’t hear on Mother’s Day were things like “Most Grief-Stricken Mother” or “Least Likely to Become a Mother” or “Mother Who Miscarried.”  No, we don’t even mention that side of it, because it doesn’t exist, you see.  You don’t go to a Baptist church if you’re not willing or able to be a mother.  Or, for that matter, there was no discussion of the kids who were there with no mother present.  I had (and still have) friends who lived with their grandparents or other relatives because their parents were either deceased, or in jail, or just not around because those poor kids were unwanted and thrown away like yesterday’s garbage. 

I have friends who can’t make it through Mother’s Day without spending the day in tears because they are either a mother who has lost a child, or a child who has lost their mother.  I have friends who have struggled with infertility and have spent or are currently spending thousands of dollars to try and find a way to conceive.  My heart goes out to those friends, because someone saying “Happy Mother’s Day” is painful for them. 

There’s a local organization called Parents Left Behind, Inc. that supports parents who have lost children.  Mother’s Day probably sucks for those women.  Even if they have surviving children, I’m sure nothing compares to the feeling of losing one.

There are mothers who are sent to nursing homes and who are forgotten by their children and the rest of their family.  I am fully aware of the sacrifices that mothers make for their children, because I watched my mother sacrifice a lot while we were growing up.  I also understand the need for skilled nursing facilities, because sometimes you just can’t provide the care your loved one needs.  However, that absolutely does not give you any reason or right to forget about your mother.  It should be no different for you than going to her house.  Shame on anyone who forgets.

I am fortunate enough to see my mother every day, and even though some days are good and some days are bad, I still see her.  I get to watch tv with her, eat her beef stew, laugh with her, cry with her…everything.  Have you ever seen I Am Sam with Sean Penn and Dakota Fanning?  In that film, that kid doesn’t know her mother at all.  She never did, and never will.  Did you hear about the lady in Canada who is brain-dead, but pregnant?  She has been on a ventilator for 5 weeks, and doctors want to keep her there for another 7 so she can deliver the baby.  Here’s the link if you want/need it: http://www.cnn.com/2014/02/04/world/americas/canada-brain-dead-woman/

All personal/political/ethical/moral feelings aside, this baby is just another of many that will not know his mother. 

It’s probably safe to say that just about everyone has someone they call their “2^nd Mom.”  I’ve had lots of “moms” throughout my life, because it really does take a village to raise a kid.  I’ve never called anyone “Mom” other than my actual mother, but I have had the grand opportunity to live under the love and guidance of some incredible women who have treated me like one of their own.  I lost one of those women last August, and my life has not been the same since. 

My dear friend Emili posted the perfect Facebook status yesterday.  She is so thoughtful and her heart is so big, and she is one of the most loving and non-judgmental people I have ever met in my entire life.  I hope she doesn’t mind me sharing, but I figure she wouldn’t have put it on social media if she didn’t want people to see it.

“Happy Mothers Day to all the Birth moms, Foster moms, Step moms, Adoptive moms, Grand-moms, God-moms, School-moms, Love-you-like-a-mom, Fur-baby moms, Moms to be, Moms who (God bless you) lost your babies, Moms who desperately want babies (God bless you!), And anyone else with mom-like tendencies.  Thank you for your unconditional love, patience, inspiration, discipline, forgiveness, and humor – even at times we didn’t deserve it.”

How simple.  How poignant.   You don’t have to give birth to be considered a mother.

I’m not as sappy as I used to be, and I don’t write heartfelt, emotional poetry anymore; the crosses I have borne over the last 15 years have changed me drastically.  I am absolutely an actions person now.  Well, I try to be.  Remember in English class, when you’d write a short story, your teacher would say “show, don’t tell?”  The whole reason for that is she wanted to see and feel the scenario, not just read about it.  She wanted to connect and relate; she wanted to become so invested that she felt like she was in the moment.  Actions are so much more impactful than words.   Words are empty and meaningless without actions, anyway.  So I just tend to skip the words.  Time is our most precious gift, yet it’s the one we waste the most. 

Don’t waste the other 364 days in the year.  Show the mother in your life that you love her every day.    

I'm Tired, Too!

All the time, I mean ALL the time, I hear moms talk about how tired they are.  They got up, got their kid ready for school or daycare, went to work, went home, cooked/picked up dinner, helped their kid with homework, put their kid to bed (who probably put up a little bit of a fight,) then went to bed.  Over the years, I have actually had people say to me, "Why are you tired? You don't have kids."  What the hell.  Seriously?  Let me clue you in:  kid-less people aren't vampires.  We get tired and we sleep, just like you.  I'm sorry I'm inferior to the restful bliss of staring into my eyelids in the dark and quiet.

We've had a pretty rough time trying to get Stella fully potty trained and acclimated to a daily routine.  Yesterday, she woke me up at 6:00 a.m.  SIX-O-CLOCK IN THE MORNING.  ON THE DOT.  ON SATURDAY.  I was in the middle of a dead-ass sleep; you know, the kind where you wake up covered in drool and you're not sure where you are.  I was so out of it that I looked at my phone and wondered why my alarm didn't go off because I thought it was a work day.  Yes, that kind of sleep is what she pulled me out of.  But sure enough, she had to potty, and I was thrilled that I didn't roll over on a wet spot in my bed or step in pee on the carpet.  Needless to say, she has adjusted to the routine.  Of course, that starts a domino effect, because once Stella is up, Stuart gets up, and the morning potty/feeding frenzy begins because EVERYTHING HAPPENS AT THE SAME TIME RIGHT NOW.  Now, here's the difference between me and all you parents.  I got to go back to sleep! Nanny, nanny, boo boo!  The dogs with their full bellies curled back up in bed with me and we were back off to la-la-land with the Sandman for a few more hours.  Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

I spent the afternoon at a Derby event, the Da'ville Classic Drumline Showcase...that ended up lasting for 4 hours, which was totally worth it.  Fighting traffic and crowds downtown leaves a little to be desired, but coming home to a rainy night after all that excitement was enough to make me want to zonk out.  But I didn't.  I persevered and didn't succumb to the laziness!

Today, Stella so graciously waited until 7:15.  I had gone to bed after midnight because I was so engrossed in reading Dave Ramsey's The Total Money Makeover - but that's another blog.  This time, I did not go back to sleep.  Instead, I started my Sunday routine of meal-planning and coupon-gathering and grocery-list-making.  After I braved Wal-Mart (which wasn't too bad today,)  I was able to come home and chillax for a bit before my friend's Simply Aroma party today.  I stayed there for 4 hours shootin' the breeze, and came home for my nightly walk/jog.  I'm kicking ass, by the way.

Tomorrow, I will wake up at 6:00 a.m., begin the dog potty/feeding frenzy, go to work, come home, scarf down dinner, go to Zumba, and finally settle in around 8:45 p.m., when I am able to FaceTime Phil for a little over an hour before I hit the hay.  Stella will irritate Stuart because she wants to wrestle and aggravate the shit out of him before bed, so I will probably spend half an hour trying to get her to calm down and leave my poor little grumpy old man alone.  I WILL BE TIRED.

The point of this was not to give you my daily itinerary.  The point of this was to demonstrate that my life is non-stop, too.  I do things without kids, I stay active, I work, I go places....all of which suck energy from me.  I'm allowed to be sleepy without being a parent, because that's life.

Body Talk

No, it's not Olivia Newton John, it's just little old me. I hadn't planned on posting tonight, but since when does my life go according to plan?  Um, never. 

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week, so I just thought I've give a little nod to my ladies who aren't given a choice on whether or not they can have kids. 


I, for one, am a Fertile Myrtle.  I could be Michelle Duggar if I really wanted to.....hey, I said if.  I'm sure if she got wind of this blog, she'd think I'm just another Kentucky whack job who's had too much Mountain Dew.  All I'd really need to do is remind her that she's from Arkansas.   But I digress. 
I can't recall specific dates, or times, or people, but there have been instances where I've heard the condescending version of "just think of all the women who can't have kids and want them so much." Yeah, I know.  I have friends in that very position, and I believe the gift of surrogacy is one that demonstrates pure, unconditional, selfless love.  But it's not a gift I can give.  I would if I could, but there are too many factors and risks for me personally. 

Some of you know that I was raised in a Southern Baptist home -- everything was the devil except God, basically.  Sure, some elements of my faith remain, but this is one area that raises questions for me.  If bearing children is woman's lot in life, if it's our solemn duty, why were some women created with the inability to bear them?  If our sexual purpose is to procreate, then why can't everyone?  Why are some men sterile?  Why do women have PCOS and ovarian cancer and hysterectomies at young ages?   Why are there hermaphrodites?  

I'm not asking these questions to raise a "Religion vs. Science" debate, because honestly, I'm not well-versed in either subject to consider going there.  I'm asking these questions because they relate to my cause.  You see my point?

Children don't define women.  They did a long time ago, and I believe it's still a fight for mothers to keep their own identity after they have children.  They stop being "Robin" and start being "Stuart's Mom."  People need to be aware of their surroundings.  I hate the word "sensitive" because it implies that we have to walk on eggshells, which is the LAST thing we need in society, but we need to learn that women are okay for who they are, whether they have kids or not.  Nobody knows the full story, ever.