catandmuse.com

If there were an award as such, it would go to the dickhead featured in this news story.

I have been annoyed by the incessant, shrill cries of a child in a public place.  I also have the free-will and wherewithal to LEAVE if I can’t deal with it, certainly that would make more sense the repeated striking of a 2 year old in the face by a complete stranger.

In this story, it explains how the man threatened the mother that “if she couldn’t shut the kid up, then he would”…then, when the child continued to cry in another aisle, he proceeded with hitting her in the face four or five times.

You see…maybe I am a little crazy, maybe just perfectly normal, or maybe I simply tend to respond quickly in most situations…either way, just those words alone would have sent me off into a blazing hot, angry like a bear that has been poked with a hot stick rage of protecting my child.

Now, I am not trying to scold the mother for not reacting faster or with violent retaliation…but I certainly do not understand her quick forgiveness.  I am a forgiving person, but I am thinking that a little bit of anger is in order for now and then forgiveness a little later.  She is either full of crap and putting on for the media or I guess she is more forgiving than most people I have encountered.

No matter, I can assure you that if I were in the mother’s shoes, I would have potentially been arrested along with the crazy bastard that hit my kid repeatedly.  I would have tackled his sorry ass and wailed on him with a vengeance.  I am not saying that behaving violently and being arrested in  front of my kid in response to a violent attack is THE BEST or THE RIGHT thing to do…but perhaps it is.  Even though some of you may see it as setting the example of violence being acceptable, I am personally of the opinion that (a mother) defending her child IS acceptable be it violent or not, circumstantially speaking.  I feel that doing nothing is worse for the child than doing something.

I just thought I’d stop in and say hello.

This has been a hell of a year.

I’ve become a mom and all the glory and glamour that entails.  I have been jumping through hoops to try to find out what is up with my kid’s digestive system and allergies.  I have been feeling the pressure of new parenthood on my marriage, my daily life, and my self in general.  I have been hoping for time to pursue a photography career, but not quite been able to make time the way I’d like to.  I have been blogging (harhar).

So, you get it, this has been a crazy year so far.  And it’s not over yet!  Thankfully.  AS IF I need the years to pass any faster than they already do.

My point, you ask? Now I am sick.  No, not just sick and tired.  Actually sick.  Ill.  I am awaiting some bloodwork, some has been done already, and waiting for answers.  It is looking like a variety of problems that may or may not include: low thyroid, low potassium, kidney issues of some variety, and leaning toward type 2 diabetes.  This does not appeal to me.  Nothing on this list actually appeals to me. Although, I must say, if I knew what was wrong then perhaps I could fix it and then feel better.  That is what I’m looking forward to.

I suppose motherhood has been harder on me than I suspected…I mean, I expected some gray hairs (no worries, got those, too!) but I apparently get a bonus health of an 80 year old package! wOOt!

Kidding, of course.  I am expecting to be fine because in all honesty and humor aside, the one thing motherhood has given me for certain that trumps all this other medical b.s. is a reason to be here for a long, long time and a reason to be healthy, healthier, perhaps even healthiest…or whatever that means.  In a nut shell…I am not worried because I am not going anywhere but right here participating in my kid growing into an adult.

I was stubborn before, but I think I may have just taken it to an all new level.

Think healthy thoughts for me, say prayers, send healing vibes…whatever you do, it’s all welcome.  Thanks!

Mostly, I am adjusted to my new life as a mom.

There is one hang-up I still have:  Wishing my life now more closely resembled my life pre-baby.

I know.  It is a selfish hang-up.  But it is how I feel. 

I have been back home for 5 days from a girls-trip to Florida and I can honestly say that no matter the fact I missed Kira terribly while I was away…I still didn’t want to come home.  I wanted more time to myself, with my friends, on the beach.  I thought about how many times in my pre-baby life I’d thought about moving to the beach and being a beach-bum for a living.  I’d be good at it.  I could spend 8-10 hours a day on the beach renting out chairs and umbrellas…hell, I think I was made for that job.  I dreaded coming home.  And, yes, I certainly do realize EXACTLY how bad that sounds.

At one point, my wishful thinking included Kira as I considered the thought of her and I heading off to the sand and shores.  I tried to include Vince, although that was more dificult since he isn’t exactly a beach loving person, but I did try. 

After much debate and reverie during my final moments in the sand and surf, I realized that all these thoughts are a direct result of one thing and one thing only:

I still long for the freedom to come and go as I please.  The freedom to walk out the door and not come back, even though I am by nature a more responsible person than that.  The freedom to take a loooong vacation and to move to the beach for good, if I so choose.  The freedom to vacation with Vince where ever we want to go.  The freedom to grab my wallet and go shopping on a whim.  To lay out in the sun and read a book for hours on end.  To go have a drink with my friends, to do whatever, whenever, wherever…

I still long for that freedom…

It makes me feel incredibly selfish and guilty, even just thinking it. 

I love Kira in a way that I have never loved anyone, anything…and that is saying so much, because I love hard everytime I love.  But this is so different, loving this child that grew inside my body.  This child that looks like me, this child who has my blood pumping through her veins, her heart.

I would never even consider leaving her, I can’t even get a clear image of what my life from this point on would be like without her, and God forbid if anything ever takes her from me…I can’t even try to think how I would/could go on, it makes me tremble and shudder at even the thought.  Even with all that love…even still, I wish for the freedom I know I can never have.

I am curious if it ever goes away.  If this is something all parents feel or if my being thirty-something as a first time parent makes this feeling even stronger.

I’d love to hear what you have to say on the subject.

I have recently been considering how important it is to me that my little girl grows up knowing the value of self.  Specifically, I have been thinking what we, her parents, need to be certain to make happen during her impressionable years so that she grows into an adult that knows her self-worth.

There have been a few things recently that I have been experiencing that have put this thought in my head:

1. doing research to determine a price for my photography based on others locally who I consider to be comparable to my own quality.
2. being networked to so many friends, both from past and present, who are presently (or are considering) going back to school to embark on a completely new career path
3. based on items 1 and 2, contemplating how I see myself and how that will ultimately effect Kira as she grows up and develops her own self-worth

This has been a HUGE eye-opener for me.  HUGE, with a capital G.

I find my value being considerably less than it should be when I breakdown my internal dialogue.  This is not good.  This is not acceptable.

I am so proud of all my friends that are chasing down dreams and making them real, especially after having settled into a routine for so long.  It makes me want to do the same, to really go after what I have always wanted.  To make a reality of the things I put to the back corner of my mind so many years ago.

When I think of making this a reality, it is then my excuses become innumerable.

That is when I realized exactly how important having a family support system is.  To have people who openly, verbally believe in you and encourage you.

I am not going to digress into my own childhood here and ramble on about it.  I will, however, say this much:  I had people that believed in and encouraged me during my childhood and adolescence.  I also had someone I greatly admired that verbally tore me to shreds and diminished every chance for me to feel good and worthy of good.  For every word of encouragement or support, there were hundreds of words berating, belittling and breaking me down.  These words have carried some weight throughout my life, as is always the case with negativity, but I believed that I had left much of the past behind me up til now.

Now, more than ever, I have to face this and repair it.  It is of dire importance for Kira’s sake that I not only be the best person I can be, but that I practice what I preach to her, as well.  I can’t just say, “Know your self-worth!” to her, not if it will make a hypocrite of me.

I have a huge obstacle ahead of me that I must hurdle.  I will be digging deep to clear out any remaining negative thoughts and the voice I hear that says, “You can’t do that, you aren’t smart enough, good enough, capable enough.  You missed your opportunity.  You threw it all away”.  I also have to find my way past a maze of excuses like “you don’t have enough time, you should really be more realistic, you are taking away from your family, and your husband shouldn’t have to endure the financial burden of your dream chasing”.

The truth is, myself as well as my family will pay a higher price if I never chase my dreams…

(P.S.  It is amazingly difficult to make such a bold statement of my shortcomings.  But I believe the truth and facing the truth head on will be what makes all the difference in setting me free from this toxic thinking.  I also believe there are probably a lot of you out there, perhaps reading this right now, that feel very similarly.  I hope you find a way to overcome your own negative self-image, no matter the nature or origin of it.)

I was in a crappy-with-a-capital-Y mood on Saturday.  I have no reason for it, I just was.  I got out of the house for a bit sans family because I thought 1) it would help my mood to have a little “me” time and 2) I figured I could kick my own ass at the gym if retail therapy didn’t help.

I went by Garden ridge for some planters and when I pulled into their busy parking lot, a Enterprise rental van was cutting through all parking lanes in a rather dangerous manner.  I, being the passive-aggressive driver that I can be, did not even slow down a bit.  I thought, “go ahead, hit me!” and kept my pace up the parking lot lane.  As she looked right at me, waved her arm at me, not slowing down even a little, cutting through parked cars and across lanes, risking people’s vehicles and safety…I laid on the horn and continued right for her.

At that moment, I truly wished that money was no object for us because I would have broad-sided her.

So, she saw myself and two other cars driving where we had the RIGHT OF WAY and proceeded without caution.  I was pissed anyway so this really bothered me.  I nearly took a parking spot near the entrance to the store but I knew it would burn a hole through me if I didn’t say something to her.

I circled around and over a couple of aisles where she had parked and pulled up next to her with my window down and ever-so-rudely asked her, “Do you think the fucking rules don’t apply to you?!?” and drove away flipping her the bird.

Now, I freaked her out a bit by pulling up next to her, but by no means do I believe that my action, or in this case REaction, has changed this woman into a more considerate, safe driver…I’m not kidding myself.  But it did make me feel better instead of holding it in for it to fester into something ripe and nasty.

I also had a few revelations this weekend, including:

1. I think there is barbecue sauce on my ceiling.
2. I really hate my chosen wordpress theme.
3. Only one of my kids toenails ever grows.  Just one.
4. Bananas make my kid poop like grown up.

That is about it.

Oh, and I started a new craft project this weekend but I can’t tell you what it is…or I’ll have to kill you.

It seem like the most obvious sentence you could ever hear.  That doesn’t, however, stop the nurses who teach the birthing classes from repeating it over and over like a broken record during the 6-8 weeks you take the class.

During our birthing class, my husband and I learned and saw a lot of things we didn’t already know about the birthing process and newborn care.  What neither of us expected was to continually hear the sentence, “NEVER, ever shake a baby” .  It was almost annoying to hear that sentence repeated so casually and so frequently, I mean isn’t that OBVIOUS?

It was such an annoyance that Cybr and I spoke of it one night on our way home, agreeing that it was ridiculous that it need be repeated so much.  Everyone knows that and surely it is few and far between that need be reminded.

This was our thinking before our baby was born.

After we had been home with Kira for a few weeks, that is when it became clear as to exactly why it is repeated so frequently.  Bringing home a newborn is stressful, exhausting and frightening.  It pushes you to limits mentally, physically and emotionally that you have never before been.  This happens while mothers are simultaneously having EXTREME hormone fluxuation, sleep deprivation and more than likely self-doubt.  I can also add burning a high fever and being in severe pain to that list, which I am certain others have experienced as well.

So, all this having been said, now you add a screaming, colicky newborn to the equation and THAT is why you NEED it drilled in your head to NEVER shake a baby.  That way, when you are out of your freaking mind with all the human limits you have surpassed and you begin to think a little crazy and act not so much like yourself, that repetitive phrase is embedded in your brain in hopes of keeping you from doing the unthinkable.

I thought it was ridiculous during the classes.  After I was standing in those shoes, the shoes of a new parent, only then did I begin to understand why it happens.  I thought you had to be a psycho or a borderline psycho to actually stoop to the level of ‘crazy mother fucker that would shake their defenseless, dependent child’.  Then I became a parent and understood that the truth behind shaken baby syndrome is that anyone can go there in a blink of an eye and you don’t have to be crazy, you just have to lose control of yourself for a split second.

By no means am I either condoning or defending this behavior from anyone or suggesting that I have done such a heinous act.

I am simply saying that I understand how it could happen, albeit deplorable, and now understand that all parents-to-be need to be told this considerably obvious statement so that it be embedded in the front and foremost area of you brain when your baby comes home.

It is very clear to me now that I am a parent that TALKING openly and honestly about this subject and our feelings about being a new parent are necessary to preventing any and all forms of child abuse and neglect as well as keeping new moms and dads from sinking to an emotional level not fit for caring for themselves or their child.  Not even entirely abuse, but of self deprecation, guilt, fear, and all other negative feelings associated with the early stages of parenting.

I discovered what I believe to be the best thing about motherhood this weekend.

Yesterday was a not-so-good day.   Kira woke up early after two restless nights of teething, I hadn’t slept much myself and my head was pounding.  I was just plain crabby from the moment I opened my eyes.

To be blatantly honest, the first half of my day I was thinking to myself how I wish I was alone in bed with my dog and cat, the way I would have spent the first half of a Sunday before marriage and baby, even if only for one day.  I put my pillow over my head and tried to muffle the sounds of my child fussing, cooing, and making raspberries in the other room.

Then the latter half of the day, my beautiful child behaved and interacted with me while out to dinner and shopping in a way that made me very proud to be a mom, to be her mom.  She was as sweet and funny and tolerant of our excursion as anyone could ever hope for a 5 month old baby to be.  She complimented me so well that she made me look like a pro.

The bottom line?  The best part of motherhood to me is that no matter how crappy a day or how bad it sucks from time to time, you always get another moment (or a whole day, if you’re lucky!) to do things different, better.  I started out yesterday feeling like a crappy mom and a failure and ended my day feeling like the best mom with the best kid in the world.  Every day is new.  Every day can be better than the last, every day I can make better choices.  Even when I make a mistake, my child still smiles at me.  This won’t be the case forever, someday she will hold me accountable for my mistakes and/or bad behavior…but for now, I’ll take it.

Her smile makes me want to be a better person.

Today we started out with her sleeping well all night from 7:30 p.m. until 8:00 a.m. and when she woke she was cooing and talking to me in her sing-song way.  A good start to a good day, or so I hope

So much happening, so little time to process it all much less write about it.

The baby is ready to roll.  She is dropped down against my cervix, which brings me to a whole new level of discomfort, I have apparently had my “bloody show” and am awaiting her arrival at this point.  I am not dilated at all, at least not as of Monday when I was examined and if I am having any contractions, they aren’t strong enough to notice.  So, my little beastie may be with us on or before Halloween (if we are lucky it will be ON Halloween, what an awesome birthday!).

We close on the house this Friday, move in Saturday thru Monday and I get my fuzzy boys back on Saturday, too.  I can’t wait to see them!  It has been just over three months.  Three long, lonesome months without kittehs.  I miss having a kitteh on my head at night, Francois makes the bestest nightcap.  I just hope they aren’t too freaked out by the 5 hour drive to St. Louis from St. Joseph, MO and that they remember their mother.  I NEED KITTEHS!!!

There has been more to do this week than I can keep track of.  If I haven’t returned your phone call or if my scant posts are boring the hell out of you, then I must apologize.  That is about all I can do right now, I mobility and brain function are both rather limited right now.  I just hope I get my brain back soon.  I don’t think it is fair that women have to do both the physical and mental part of pregnancy…I think if I have to carry her in my body, be uncomfortable, and have painfully gross things happen to my body, then Cybr should at the least have to get “placentabrain” (as my doctor calls it, see it has a technical term).  Oh, well, it isn’t likely at this point so there isn’t any sense in dwelling on it.

Will be back…sooner or later!

I haven’t posted much lately since we have moved half-way around the world, house-hunted for weeks on end and had pregnancy complications in between.

I have recently entered the state of pregnancy that is extremely uncomfortable and exhausting as all hell.

I have been trying to manage gestational diabetes for close to a month and my fingers are tired of being stuck.

I have to pee pretty much as soon as I get done peeing…sooner if the baby is applying pressure.  I should just hang out in the bathroom.

I am seeing my doctor twice every week to monitor both myself and the baby.  Mostly the baby, as gestational diabetes involves a higher risk of still birth.

Currently the baby is 3.5 lbs. and wiggling all the time.  I think she was on a spin cycle all day Monday and oddly enough it was clockwise the entire day.

We FINALLY found a house we like and put a contract on it.  We have looked at nearly 70 homes in our price range and only liked this one house enough to put a contract on it.  I would venture a guess that our real-estate agent is annoyed with us and likely relieved that we are nearly out of his life.

I recently discovered that I will be REQUIRING nursing and sleeping bras…holy crap, I didn’t even know what a sleeping bra was for!

I also recently discovered that it gets really difficult to reach your “area” to wipe after peeing.  Nobody tells you these things about pregnancy…

I haven’t seen my fuzzy boys (Francis and Burrito) in 8 weeks.  I miss them so much I can’t stand it.  I dream of them nearly every night.  I am having withdrawal symptoms and I am so worried they won’t remember me, well at least that Burrito won’t remember…I am pretty sure Francis will remember, he will just be mad.

I have severe leg/back pain every day and night.

I have two baby showers coming up and I can’t wait!  It will be great to see everyone AND I get to have cake since I have been on this no sugar/low carb/restricted calorie diet for almost a month.  Yay!  Cake! 

If I had to choose between cake or death, I would definitely choose CAKE!

Now that is a catchy title.

I was just going to share my experience in a relatively non-clinical fashion.

I had my first gynecological exam here in Hong Kong. Knowing that medical practices are a bit different here (yes, even Western medicine practices are different), I have to say I was a bit nervous. Not about the outcome, nor the procedure itself…no, I was nervous about making a total ass out of myself. You know, like getting stark naked when the nurse says to get undressed and what she meant was to just take off my shoes…or something along those lines.

So, this is how it works and for all you Americans out there reading this (since I cannot relate this to any other medical practices anywhere else in the world) will surely get how “new” this situation was for me.

• The doctor sees me in her office first and we discuss what is happening with my body, which some docs in the U.S. do as well. I don’t know about anyone else, but I have a difficult time articulating questions/concerns regarding my health when I am naked from the waist down, spread eagle with a spotlight on my va-jay-jay and the doctors head two inches away while he/she is telling me to hang my ass over the edge of the table and relax…then, “Oh, by the way, do you have any questions or concerns you would like to discuss?”. Are you kidding me?? I couldn’t even tell you my name right now, all I can think about is my bare ass and the extenuating circumstance it is in!
• Then the nurse takes me to the exam room and shows me a curtain that encloses a 2′ x 2′ space to undress.
• She says to undress.
• I say, “Tell me specifically what I am to take off/leave on, please, I don’t want to look too stupid today”.
• She smiles and says just my pants, panties and shoes. I can leave my socks on if I want.
• I close the curtain and disrobe. Wait. There isn’t a tiny paper napkin to cover myself with or a butt-exposing gown to put on. Nothing.
• I stick my head (only) out of the curtain, knowing she is still in the room and has no intentions of leaving…weird, huh?
• I ask her what I am supposed to do now.
• She motions for me to getup onto the exam table.
• I pause, thinking she may give me something to cover up with.
• She gestures again to the table, less patiently this time.
• I set all modesty aside and draw open the curtain and walk my half-naked self over to the table and hop up there.
• The doctor comes into the tiny room, the door is adjacent to my va-jay-jay exposing me for any one that may be lingering in the hallway.
• She does the exam quickly, painlessly and then does the dildo-cam ultrasound.
• The insides of my pelvis are being shown on a 27″ wall-mounted screen right over the doctors head so that I can see everything that she sees. My insides are quite lovely, thank you.
• Doc says she is finished, then promptly leaves the room.
• The nurse gestures for me to go to get dressed, so I hop off the table and walk my naked ass back behind the curtain.
• Once dressed, I am taken back to the doctors office to finish up.

And that is my story of immodesty and dildo-cams.

I think is quite ironic that the Asian culture is outwardly much more modest than Western cultures, yet when it comes to going for a gynecological/medical exam all modesty is set aside; whereas, Americans are extremely private and modest regarding gyno exams and pretty much all medical exams.

Interesting…