Tuesday, December 29, 2015
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.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
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.
*********
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.
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.
*********
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.
Monday, May 11, 2015
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 “2nd 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.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
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.
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.
Monday, April 20, 2015
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.
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.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
I'm a Cash Crop
I had an intriguing thought the other day. At work, we were discussing YMCA memberships and the costs involved with them. One of the girls mentioned something about a discount for an After School program, or maybe another kid's program...I can't remember the details. I just know it had to do with kids. It occurred to me that I would never be able to reap those benefits because I don't have any kids. As far as businesses are concerned, people like me don't need to save money. Well, on contraire, bonjour.
Let me break it down for you a little bit. In case you want to check my facts, I'll post the links to the info I put here. A full family membership to any Kentuckiana YMCA with access to Calypso Cove Family Water Park is $89/month. I used a family of 4, because that's how Americans count, and divided that cost....it comes to $22.25/person. A plain ole adult membership is $55/month. Divide that by 1, and you get $55/person (I hope you got that answer, too.) THAT'S MORE THAN DOUBLE! For fewer people.
Info here: http://www.ymcalouisville.org/bullitt-county/membership.html
Let's talk Disney now. I found a vacation package for a family of 4, for 6 nights and 7 days, for $2,216. That is just under $80/person total.
Info: https://disneyworld.disney.go.com/plan/my-disney-experience/vacation-packages/
I found a similar package for 2 adults for $231/person/night. Make that 6 nights and 7 days, and your total comes to $2,772. That's over a $500 difference. For no kids. Disney, are you punishing me?
Info: http://www.reserveorlando.com/dp/disney-world-universal-vacation-packages
Another scenario: Verizon's Family Plan. 4 lines, 8GB of data, for $145/month. That's $36.25/person. I pay $100/month for myself for 3GB of data. That's triple the amount for just under 1/3 of the data.
Info: http://www.verizonwireless.com/landingpages/more-everything/
Granted, these are just examples, and I'm not a research scientist who has scrutinized every aspect of every piece of info. This is just a basic idea of what's going on.
Changing the subject: what about groceries? I have to buy the same size and quantity of food as all you families out there. I can't buy one half of a beef chuck roast, or a half-pound of ground beef. I always end up with way too much, and usually throw out about half of my rations, because I simply can't eat it all before it goes bad. I meal plan, and I coupon, and I ad-match, but I'm still stuck with a surplus, essentially throwing money away. I already have to budget for basic needs like oil changes and new sneakers.
No, I don't have to buy diapers, or formula, or baby Motrin, but I have two dogs that require food, medicine, and other maintenance items. My money is just as valuable as anyone's with kids, but I don't think the world sees it that way. I'm a cash crop.
Let me break it down for you a little bit. In case you want to check my facts, I'll post the links to the info I put here. A full family membership to any Kentuckiana YMCA with access to Calypso Cove Family Water Park is $89/month. I used a family of 4, because that's how Americans count, and divided that cost....it comes to $22.25/person. A plain ole adult membership is $55/month. Divide that by 1, and you get $55/person (I hope you got that answer, too.) THAT'S MORE THAN DOUBLE! For fewer people.
Info here: http://www.ymcalouisville.org/bullitt-county/membership.html
Let's talk Disney now. I found a vacation package for a family of 4, for 6 nights and 7 days, for $2,216. That is just under $80/person total.
Info: https://disneyworld.disney.go.com/plan/my-disney-experience/vacation-packages/
I found a similar package for 2 adults for $231/person/night. Make that 6 nights and 7 days, and your total comes to $2,772. That's over a $500 difference. For no kids. Disney, are you punishing me?
Info: http://www.reserveorlando.com/dp/disney-world-universal-vacation-packages
Another scenario: Verizon's Family Plan. 4 lines, 8GB of data, for $145/month. That's $36.25/person. I pay $100/month for myself for 3GB of data. That's triple the amount for just under 1/3 of the data.
Info: http://www.verizonwireless.com/landingpages/more-everything/
Granted, these are just examples, and I'm not a research scientist who has scrutinized every aspect of every piece of info. This is just a basic idea of what's going on.
Changing the subject: what about groceries? I have to buy the same size and quantity of food as all you families out there. I can't buy one half of a beef chuck roast, or a half-pound of ground beef. I always end up with way too much, and usually throw out about half of my rations, because I simply can't eat it all before it goes bad. I meal plan, and I coupon, and I ad-match, but I'm still stuck with a surplus, essentially throwing money away. I already have to budget for basic needs like oil changes and new sneakers.
No, I don't have to buy diapers, or formula, or baby Motrin, but I have two dogs that require food, medicine, and other maintenance items. My money is just as valuable as anyone's with kids, but I don't think the world sees it that way. I'm a cash crop.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Doctor's Orders
I was diagnosed with high blood pressure last summer, when I was 32 years old. From the get-go, she asked me if I planned on having kids any time soon. Even then, I told her I was about 95% sure that I wasn't. At first, I was a little confused about why she asked me that, but when she began to explain her train of thought for courses of treatment, it started to make a little sense. Long story short, I've had some adjustments in my medication, and now, almost a year later, we still don't have it quite right.
I had another follow-up today, and it was an eye-opening, and slightly emotional experience. Phil was with me, which I thought was nice because he got to see the process and talk with my doctor with me. Despite my recent lifestyle changes and significantly increased activity level, my BP is still not controlled. It was 135/90 today, which is not extraordinarily high, but high enough to be detrimental if not brought down over the long term. I listed the side effects I was experiencing, and my doctor was not thrilled, because I haven't had the greatest few months, to be honest.
As she contemplated her next treatment move, she looked me square in the eyes and said, "Kids. Do you want to have kids any time soon?" It was a pivotal moment for me because I knew that this was a determining factor in my treatment plan. It was almost cathartic, because for a brief second, it crossed my mind that I now have a valid, justifiable reason to tell people when they ask me why I don't have kids. What a relief. Now, I don't have to try and explain myself because my reason before was "just because I don't want to."
But, on the other hand, her question stopped me in my tracks, because I realized the permanence of my situation. She explained that she wants to change my medication from a beta-blocker to an ace-inhibitor, which is absolutely, 100% not okay to take if I become pregnant. She called it a "Category X" drug, which essentially means that it will kill a fetus. In the event that it doesn't, it could implement serious birth defects of the heart, kidneys, liver...and the baby could be carried full-term and be stillborn, or die shortly after birth. I mean, this is serious stuff. So serious that she also told me she would pair it with a birth control pill to ensure that pregnancy does not occur.
I absolutely do not want to risk any of that. What kind of person would I be to knowingly conceive and carry this human being inside of me, knowing that it will be damaged, and eventually die anyway? I've been through one miscarriage, so I certainly don't want to go through another.
A few months ago, I watched a documentary on Netflix called After Tiller. It followed these late-term abortion doctors and the women for whom they performed their services. The women who sought out these doctors were in late-term pregnancies with babies who had confirmed chronic or terminal illnesses or severe deformities or birth defects. It was a very compelling and heart-wrenching film, because it captured the utter anguish both the doctors and patients felt before, during, and after the procedures were done. I really felt compassion for those women, because I understood why they chose what they did. It would not be fair to the parents or that baby to bring that baby in to this cruel, cruel world and watch them suffer each and every day. Neither the parents nor the child would have any sort of quality of life, because their lives would be full of hospitals and medications and money and tubes and wheelchairs and fighting the system.....who wants that?
I have the utmost respect for anyone who works with or has special needs children, so please, understand that this is not ill-intentioned.
I have decided that I have too much life to live, and becoming pregnant with an illness like high blood pressure could be dangerous to me, as well. I have heard story after story of women's BP getting too high or too low during labor, and me having the condition would just make me more vulnerable to complications. Call me selfish - that's fine, because that's exactly what I am. I want to live as fully as I can for as long as I can, in a healthy and happy way.
I had another follow-up today, and it was an eye-opening, and slightly emotional experience. Phil was with me, which I thought was nice because he got to see the process and talk with my doctor with me. Despite my recent lifestyle changes and significantly increased activity level, my BP is still not controlled. It was 135/90 today, which is not extraordinarily high, but high enough to be detrimental if not brought down over the long term. I listed the side effects I was experiencing, and my doctor was not thrilled, because I haven't had the greatest few months, to be honest.
As she contemplated her next treatment move, she looked me square in the eyes and said, "Kids. Do you want to have kids any time soon?" It was a pivotal moment for me because I knew that this was a determining factor in my treatment plan. It was almost cathartic, because for a brief second, it crossed my mind that I now have a valid, justifiable reason to tell people when they ask me why I don't have kids. What a relief. Now, I don't have to try and explain myself because my reason before was "just because I don't want to."
But, on the other hand, her question stopped me in my tracks, because I realized the permanence of my situation. She explained that she wants to change my medication from a beta-blocker to an ace-inhibitor, which is absolutely, 100% not okay to take if I become pregnant. She called it a "Category X" drug, which essentially means that it will kill a fetus. In the event that it doesn't, it could implement serious birth defects of the heart, kidneys, liver...and the baby could be carried full-term and be stillborn, or die shortly after birth. I mean, this is serious stuff. So serious that she also told me she would pair it with a birth control pill to ensure that pregnancy does not occur.
I absolutely do not want to risk any of that. What kind of person would I be to knowingly conceive and carry this human being inside of me, knowing that it will be damaged, and eventually die anyway? I've been through one miscarriage, so I certainly don't want to go through another.
A few months ago, I watched a documentary on Netflix called After Tiller. It followed these late-term abortion doctors and the women for whom they performed their services. The women who sought out these doctors were in late-term pregnancies with babies who had confirmed chronic or terminal illnesses or severe deformities or birth defects. It was a very compelling and heart-wrenching film, because it captured the utter anguish both the doctors and patients felt before, during, and after the procedures were done. I really felt compassion for those women, because I understood why they chose what they did. It would not be fair to the parents or that baby to bring that baby in to this cruel, cruel world and watch them suffer each and every day. Neither the parents nor the child would have any sort of quality of life, because their lives would be full of hospitals and medications and money and tubes and wheelchairs and fighting the system.....who wants that?
I have the utmost respect for anyone who works with or has special needs children, so please, understand that this is not ill-intentioned.
I have decided that I have too much life to live, and becoming pregnant with an illness like high blood pressure could be dangerous to me, as well. I have heard story after story of women's BP getting too high or too low during labor, and me having the condition would just make me more vulnerable to complications. Call me selfish - that's fine, because that's exactly what I am. I want to live as fully as I can for as long as I can, in a healthy and happy way.
Monday, March 30, 2015
The Broken Crayon
*Before you read this, I want to put a disclaimer up here. I love all of my friends dearly, so please do not take this post as a slight to any of you. I am simply expressing my feelings of my reality as it is. I started this blog with the intention to fully commit to the raw emotions as they come, and that is what I am doing.*
I was always the last kid picked for the kickball team. I was never anyone's first choice for a group project. Hell, at Junior Prom, I was the odd number in the limo because no one wanted to be my date. I've spent a lot of my life feeling lonely and being alone, even among a crowd of people. I'm just the odd woman out. Pretty much every day, someone tells me I'm weird (that's been going on since elementary school,) so after 30-some-odd years of it, I finally acknowledge and embrace it.
I've been left out of a lot of things because I don't have kids. Let's clear something up: just because I don't want kids doesn't mean I don't like kids. Sure, facing a classroom of Kindergartners would scare the bajeepers out of me, and make me a nervous freaking wreck, but kids are funny. Kids are smart (most of them.) Kids often give better advice than adults. But the time, energy, responsibility, and commitment it takes to get them there? No thanks.
I think choosing to go against the grain comes with the natural consequence of alienation. But you see, it puts me in a strange limbo - a purgatory of sorts. Here's a real-life example (no names): a friend of mine was having a birthday party for their kid. An invite was put out on Facebook for anyone could bring their kid to eat and swim. I joked that I don't have a kid but I like to eat and swim, so can I come? They told me to pick up a kid on the way. Now, it was all said in a lighthearted manner with no ill-intent, but it just kind of hit me at that moment that I was not "one of the crowd." I did not belong, and I still don't. I didn't put my body through 40 weeks of torture and hormones and changes and go through hours and hours of excruciating pain and labor, so I don't belong. I'm a different kind of person.
I've told Phil on multiple occasions that maybe we should have a kid so I would be included in more things and maybe the loneliness would subside. I would be invited to birthday parties, and the Kids Fair, and the park with my other mom friends, and Easter egg hunts, and Halloween parties, and the Zoo. But if I did that, it would be the equivalent of a woman becoming pregnant to fix her marriage. My marriage is in absolutely no distress whatsoever, so there is nothing to fix (other than the government, but I digress.)
But you know what? When I have ever been around parents, and they ask me if I have kids, I do this chuckle and say, "Nooooooo, no no nooo no," and they look at me like I'm an alien. If I had a nickel for every time I heard, "Oh, you're still young," or "It's the world's greatest calling to be a mother," I could buy my own private island and go live on it. I'd rather be lonely than listen to that crap over and over again. Nobody has the right to make me feel inferior for my choice. I am no less of a woman, and I am no less of a person because I choose to do other things with my time....like watch "Catfish" and "Teen Mom" (which ironically came on as I finished up this post.)
Some may see me as broken, but I don't need a child to feel complete.
I was always the last kid picked for the kickball team. I was never anyone's first choice for a group project. Hell, at Junior Prom, I was the odd number in the limo because no one wanted to be my date. I've spent a lot of my life feeling lonely and being alone, even among a crowd of people. I'm just the odd woman out. Pretty much every day, someone tells me I'm weird (that's been going on since elementary school,) so after 30-some-odd years of it, I finally acknowledge and embrace it.
I've been left out of a lot of things because I don't have kids. Let's clear something up: just because I don't want kids doesn't mean I don't like kids. Sure, facing a classroom of Kindergartners would scare the bajeepers out of me, and make me a nervous freaking wreck, but kids are funny. Kids are smart (most of them.) Kids often give better advice than adults. But the time, energy, responsibility, and commitment it takes to get them there? No thanks.
I think choosing to go against the grain comes with the natural consequence of alienation. But you see, it puts me in a strange limbo - a purgatory of sorts. Here's a real-life example (no names): a friend of mine was having a birthday party for their kid. An invite was put out on Facebook for anyone could bring their kid to eat and swim. I joked that I don't have a kid but I like to eat and swim, so can I come? They told me to pick up a kid on the way. Now, it was all said in a lighthearted manner with no ill-intent, but it just kind of hit me at that moment that I was not "one of the crowd." I did not belong, and I still don't. I didn't put my body through 40 weeks of torture and hormones and changes and go through hours and hours of excruciating pain and labor, so I don't belong. I'm a different kind of person.
I've told Phil on multiple occasions that maybe we should have a kid so I would be included in more things and maybe the loneliness would subside. I would be invited to birthday parties, and the Kids Fair, and the park with my other mom friends, and Easter egg hunts, and Halloween parties, and the Zoo. But if I did that, it would be the equivalent of a woman becoming pregnant to fix her marriage. My marriage is in absolutely no distress whatsoever, so there is nothing to fix (other than the government, but I digress.)
But you know what? When I have ever been around parents, and they ask me if I have kids, I do this chuckle and say, "Nooooooo, no no nooo no," and they look at me like I'm an alien. If I had a nickel for every time I heard, "Oh, you're still young," or "It's the world's greatest calling to be a mother," I could buy my own private island and go live on it. I'd rather be lonely than listen to that crap over and over again. Nobody has the right to make me feel inferior for my choice. I am no less of a woman, and I am no less of a person because I choose to do other things with my time....like watch "Catfish" and "Teen Mom" (which ironically came on as I finished up this post.)
Some may see me as broken, but I don't need a child to feel complete.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Disney Didn't Get My Paycheck
Disneyworld is my nightmare. I can't think of anything worse than going to a "park" filled with hundreds of thousands of people to smell sweaty B.O. from the hot Florida sun and watching kids have meltdowns because Buzz Lightyear is scary in real life. The problem is I'm a sucker for pretty things that sparkle, so my inner girly-girl would marvel at the sight of fireworks over the castle on a clear summer night.
Speaking of Disney, I went to see Cinderella over the weekend with my friend Sherie and her two girls (who were complete ANGELS, by the way!) When I got to the theater, in the lobby was a gaggle of 6-year-olds all gathered for a birthday party and my first thought was, "Shit. What was I thinking?!" I immediately regretted not smuggling in a shot of liquor to ease the pain my ears would suffer from all the shrieking. And kids need leashes. There, I said it. Keep your kids contained, people. The last thing I want to do is play Frogger through the lobby to get to my theater.
Before the movie, there was a Frozen short film. Yippee. I could hardly contain my excitement. Frozen 2 is on its way to theaters, and I am in NO WAY obligated to go watch an imbecile dancing snowman with the name of a viking troll! However, I'm sure my nieces will tell me all about it.
As for the movie, it was very well executed. Costumes were AMAZING and the acting was very well done. Helena Bonham Carter was an excellent Fairy Godmother, and she was the most kid-friendly part of the film. Don't get me wrong, the movie isn't riddled with bad language or raunchy sex, but there are several adult themes carried throughout: Ella deals with the loss of both her parents, her stepmother verbally and emotionally abuses her, and she's locked in an attic the whole time. The Prince also deals with the death of his father, and faces running the kingdom before he's really ready to do it. So, my point is just because Disney slaps their name on a film doesn't automatically mean it should have a 'G' rating. Use a little discretion. I would rate it PG-13, and maybe that's me being somewhat of a Holden Caufield, but I don't want to have to answer questions my 6-year-old asks about parents dying.
Here's one reason I shouldn't be a parent: I would be intrigued to see what Tim Burton or Rob Zombie would do with this story. Can you imagine a dark, sinister version of this film?
Now, excuse me while I go watch Beauty and the Beast before bed.
Speaking of Disney, I went to see Cinderella over the weekend with my friend Sherie and her two girls (who were complete ANGELS, by the way!) When I got to the theater, in the lobby was a gaggle of 6-year-olds all gathered for a birthday party and my first thought was, "Shit. What was I thinking?!" I immediately regretted not smuggling in a shot of liquor to ease the pain my ears would suffer from all the shrieking. And kids need leashes. There, I said it. Keep your kids contained, people. The last thing I want to do is play Frogger through the lobby to get to my theater.
Before the movie, there was a Frozen short film. Yippee. I could hardly contain my excitement. Frozen 2 is on its way to theaters, and I am in NO WAY obligated to go watch an imbecile dancing snowman with the name of a viking troll! However, I'm sure my nieces will tell me all about it.
As for the movie, it was very well executed. Costumes were AMAZING and the acting was very well done. Helena Bonham Carter was an excellent Fairy Godmother, and she was the most kid-friendly part of the film. Don't get me wrong, the movie isn't riddled with bad language or raunchy sex, but there are several adult themes carried throughout: Ella deals with the loss of both her parents, her stepmother verbally and emotionally abuses her, and she's locked in an attic the whole time. The Prince also deals with the death of his father, and faces running the kingdom before he's really ready to do it. So, my point is just because Disney slaps their name on a film doesn't automatically mean it should have a 'G' rating. Use a little discretion. I would rate it PG-13, and maybe that's me being somewhat of a Holden Caufield, but I don't want to have to answer questions my 6-year-old asks about parents dying.
Here's one reason I shouldn't be a parent: I would be intrigued to see what Tim Burton or Rob Zombie would do with this story. Can you imagine a dark, sinister version of this film?
Now, excuse me while I go watch Beauty and the Beast before bed.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Welcome to My Kid-Free Life
This is my latest venture. I've struggled for a really long time to figure out what I should write about. I have a meager history in blogging -- I'm probably most "famous" for my England blog, but that did not extend any further than my Facebook friends.
Over the past year or so, I have become more comfortable in my decision to not have children, and in turn, have become more open in talking about it. The problem is that nobody else is talking about it. I see a BuzzFeed article every now and again with yet another list of reasons to not have children, but nobody is really talking about the issue. Nobody is sharing their thoughts or their feelings or their experiences, likely because society has said that it's not okay.
I grew up in a Baptist home, and it was made clear to me that bearing children was a woman's lot in life. Thanks, Eve. So why would I want to put myself through something that I know is a punishment?
Now, before you stop reading and discount me, you should know that I was pregnant once. In November 2010, I succumbed to temptation and cheated on my lying, lazy, selfish, neglectful husband who had ignored me for 5 years. I wasn't on birth control because what was the point? I was working as a substitute teacher because I got laid off from my real teaching job (thanks, KY Legislature,) and as a part-time tutor, so I had no health insurance. I'll never forget that feeling I had when I went to the Health Department to verify the two pregnancy tests I had already taken. I was sick, scared, ashamed, and somewhat relieved because I knew this would be the way out of my crap marriage. There was one point where I actually prayed to God to take care of it. I prayed that the baby would just go away. If you've ever seen the Lifetime movie "The Preacher's Daughter," you'll kind of know what I mean. Over the next couple of months, I began to experience the cravings and sickness, but I also started spotting, and eventually thought I miscarried. Long story short, I moved out and came back home to Louisville. One night in February 2011, I had what was my actual miscarriage. If you really want to know how I knew, I'll tell you, but the details are not important or relevant to this post.
That was a turning point for me. That's the moment I began to question whether or not I would ever be a mother. Granted, that baby was not conceived in love by any means, and the miscarriage was an act of mercy, but it changed my life.
Now, I meander through my day-to-day thanking God, or the universe, or whatever you believe in, that I don't have another mouth to feed, because I simply could not do it. Not only is it a financial issue, it's a sanity issue. My dogs are enough, thank you very much. Sometimes they're just as bad as any kid.
I don't have a problem with kids, I just don't want them. I have 3 nieces who are my bundles of sunshine, and I would die for all of them, but I get to give them back at the end of the day. I get to sleep when I want, I don't have to share my food, I don't have triple the laundry, and I don't have to deal with pee, poop, and puke. I don't have to carry a diaper bag or backpack full of kid stuff that will probably get lost in transit. I can go to Wal-Mart at 3:00 in the morning if I so desire (I really don't, but you get the point.)
I do kind of freak out when kids eat, though. I watched my oldest niece choke on a pancake when she was a baby, and it scarred me for life. My family and I went to a Mexican restaurant once and I told my middle niece to "chew those beans." Yes, they were refried, and basically brown mush on a plate, but she could still choke, alright?! So of course, they get a kick out of teasing me about it. I would honestly need a valium pump if I had a kid because I'd be afraid they would choke on breastmilk. Seriously.
Alright, enough anecdotes already? Fair enough. Stay tuned for more kid-free adventures!
Over the past year or so, I have become more comfortable in my decision to not have children, and in turn, have become more open in talking about it. The problem is that nobody else is talking about it. I see a BuzzFeed article every now and again with yet another list of reasons to not have children, but nobody is really talking about the issue. Nobody is sharing their thoughts or their feelings or their experiences, likely because society has said that it's not okay.
I grew up in a Baptist home, and it was made clear to me that bearing children was a woman's lot in life. Thanks, Eve. So why would I want to put myself through something that I know is a punishment?
Now, before you stop reading and discount me, you should know that I was pregnant once. In November 2010, I succumbed to temptation and cheated on my lying, lazy, selfish, neglectful husband who had ignored me for 5 years. I wasn't on birth control because what was the point? I was working as a substitute teacher because I got laid off from my real teaching job (thanks, KY Legislature,) and as a part-time tutor, so I had no health insurance. I'll never forget that feeling I had when I went to the Health Department to verify the two pregnancy tests I had already taken. I was sick, scared, ashamed, and somewhat relieved because I knew this would be the way out of my crap marriage. There was one point where I actually prayed to God to take care of it. I prayed that the baby would just go away. If you've ever seen the Lifetime movie "The Preacher's Daughter," you'll kind of know what I mean. Over the next couple of months, I began to experience the cravings and sickness, but I also started spotting, and eventually thought I miscarried. Long story short, I moved out and came back home to Louisville. One night in February 2011, I had what was my actual miscarriage. If you really want to know how I knew, I'll tell you, but the details are not important or relevant to this post.
That was a turning point for me. That's the moment I began to question whether or not I would ever be a mother. Granted, that baby was not conceived in love by any means, and the miscarriage was an act of mercy, but it changed my life.
Now, I meander through my day-to-day thanking God, or the universe, or whatever you believe in, that I don't have another mouth to feed, because I simply could not do it. Not only is it a financial issue, it's a sanity issue. My dogs are enough, thank you very much. Sometimes they're just as bad as any kid.
I don't have a problem with kids, I just don't want them. I have 3 nieces who are my bundles of sunshine, and I would die for all of them, but I get to give them back at the end of the day. I get to sleep when I want, I don't have to share my food, I don't have triple the laundry, and I don't have to deal with pee, poop, and puke. I don't have to carry a diaper bag or backpack full of kid stuff that will probably get lost in transit. I can go to Wal-Mart at 3:00 in the morning if I so desire (I really don't, but you get the point.)
I do kind of freak out when kids eat, though. I watched my oldest niece choke on a pancake when she was a baby, and it scarred me for life. My family and I went to a Mexican restaurant once and I told my middle niece to "chew those beans." Yes, they were refried, and basically brown mush on a plate, but she could still choke, alright?! So of course, they get a kick out of teasing me about it. I would honestly need a valium pump if I had a kid because I'd be afraid they would choke on breastmilk. Seriously.
Alright, enough anecdotes already? Fair enough. Stay tuned for more kid-free adventures!
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