Spell check lament.

Oh, spell check...

where have you gone?

How I miss you so.

I'm not really sure why the freaky web guys at Blogger got rid of you.

And, all for what?

To add a strike through key?

I, mean, don't get me wrong I love the strike through key, but that editing option didn't come cheap.

It cost a total of my blogging sanity.

Seriously, I'm about to call it quits.

No spell check means a total of 2.4789276 more minutes a day I spend on this contraption.

I'm about ready to quit this blog thing altogether. 

Did I already mention that?

Maybe that's what the Blogger people want.

To frustrate the living hell out of exactly 96% of bloggers who use Blogger. 

I think they're all up in their ivory towers, wearing Gucci suits, sipping exspensive French champagne, and having a hearty laugh at our expense.

Saying things like,

"Learn to spell you pasty white, mini-van driving, casserole making, Mid-Western, suburban housewife."

or

"Didn't they offer Spelling 101 in grad school, you big dumb-dumb?"

I think they're drunk with power. 

So, I say, whudeffer ewe Bluggre giyz!  I down't neid speel cheek!  Down't nied id I telll yuo!

Just wait until the angry mob of mommy bloggers show up at their pads with pitchforks & torches. 

We'll see who's laughing then.

Am I right, ladies?

Who's in?

I'm a nerd.

I canNOT wait for this movie to come out on Tuesday (?). 

I love these kinds of films.

I am a total loser.

And, that's okay.

{pause music in sidebar first}

Have a fantastic weekend!

Grrrrrrr.

I'm pissed off...

Yes. I just said that.

Yesterday, Pete started bleeding from the head.  Blood everywhere.  He was freaking out, Jake was crying because he was responsible.  It was a typical Grebe mess.  I asked what happened so I could get a handle on the situation and Jake said that he threw a chopstick at Pete. 

A chopstick?  Seriously?

Only in our house.

photo of the actual kind of chopstick which was thrown

which, if you're in the market for kids' chopsticks,  I highly recommend purchasing these

Then, to make matters worse, once things calmed down, naturally, I read an article the 'The New York Times' published about 'mommy bloggers' that made me want to spit nails.   Which I wish I could do but, alas, I can't, so I just cursed a lot using internal dialogue only.  Worse than a sailor.  Did you all know I have a muddy mouth?  Having kids made it real tough for me and my oral cavity.  It took a lot of cranial retraining.  But, I think I censor quite well now.  Anywho, while lately I've been struggling with what fuels my own blogging desires, I felt disappointed to read such chiding words. 

Blogging for my own self worth has never been a motivator for me.  I'm not a very insecure person.  Particularly in certain areas, and I certainly don't need people patting me on my back for painting a dresser with a faux finish or a posse telling me how incredible my homemade pillow cases are.  I was fine before I blogged in that department, and I'll survive the day after I decide to hang up my blogging hat. 

I don't ignore my kids (unless they're on my last ever loving nerve) or the housework (except when I'd rather eat chocolate and watch my stories) or the dog (except when he escapes out the front door and I wish he'd really just run away because he is so freaking high maintenance).  By the way, I'm totally kidding. I'm not sure how many times I have to say it, but it takes a max of 20 min. for me to post.  Apparently I can't say it enough.  In fact, since blogging I feel more motivated than ever to get my crap together.  To do more, create more, share more. 

funny, no?

I'm not trying to market myself or increase my search engine optimization.  I don't do it for freebies because, well, frankly I've never been offered any.  I don't do it becasue I think my kids are so cute the world would cease spinning on it's axis if they weren't shared or exploited.  I don't do it because I think my ideas are the best or my house the prettiest.  Believe you me...I know plenty of people in the blogosphere with far more outstanding ideas and much more stunning homes.

I mean, doesn't everyone that chooses to do certain things well or hone their particular craft do it to to get some sort of self-satisfaction.  Is that wrong?  We are all guilty of seeking the approval of others in some capactiy.  If that weren't the case, no one would strive to do anything to the best of their ability.  It seems like a debate that ends no better than a dog chasing his tail.  It could go on and on and on with no real winner.  Except let's face it...I think that tail outsmarts that dog any day.

I like to write and I like the resulting 'therapy' I seem to get from it, I like to make people laugh, or to inspire, or to get people think beyond what they're making for dinner or even to help them figure out what TO make for dinner.

Do I like to read blogs with meaty, sink-your-teeth-into-it, profound writing?  Yes.  Do I like to read blogs with tutorials on how to put pockets in dresses?  You bet'yer @$$.  Is one less important than the other?  Absolutely not. 

It really can't be explained.  Blogs/blogging...you either get it our you don't.  It's really that simple.

If you don't get it. I'm not sure why some of you continue to read or leave nasty comments or judge.  In that case, you're no better than what you seem to hate.  Munch on that.

So, if you know me personally in the UNvirtual world, you may want to turn right around and find something else to read (although, I wish you'd hang around with an open mind). I have a tendency to unintentionally blow the minds of those handful of people in the worst possible way.  I would suggest 'The NYT'  but, well ...

parenting: seinfeld style.

I read a lovely article in 'Parade' magazine this weekend by Harlan Coben.  It was all about Jerry Seinfeld, his life, and his family. 

It was refreshing to say the least.

Here are some highlights:

   " 'I love it (having kids).  I love having a family and kids, and all the madness.  There is no aspect of it I don't like.  Even when it's horrible, I love it.  I didn't realize how tired of single life I was and how ready for married life.' "

    "Although his own children obviously want for nothing, Seinfeld works hard not to be too indulgent.  He bemoans the way some people cater to their children's every whim.  Seinfeld has three rules of parenting, what he calls 'the poison Ps.' The first is Praise-'We tell our kids, 'Great Job!' too much', he says.  The second is Problem-solving-'We refuse to let our children have problems.  Problem-solving is the most important skill to develop for success in life, and we for some reason can't stand it if our kids have a situation that they need to 'fix'.  Let them struggle-it's a gift.'

    "Just as he's explaining the third P-'giving your child too much pleasure'- a woman comes in the deli with her three young daughters and buys them all huge cookies.  'Can you believe this?' Seinfeld says, gesturing like his TV counterpart used to.  'It's 5:30pm.-when will they have dinner?  At 8?'

    "So why does he think we treat our kids like that?  His eyes light up.  'Do you want to hear my latest theory?' he asks.  'It's a little far-fetched.'  He leans in and explains how children today aren't as innocent as they used to be.  'We feel so guilty for destroying that innocence-which is what we did-so we're now trying to repair that by creating perfect childhoods for our children.'  He laughs, but he's serious at the same time.  'The reason we overdo it so much is because we feel so bad about it.

   "Seinfeld also believes that it's best to teach children by example.  'Kids are not going to do what you tell them to do or think like you tell them to think,' he says. 'Kids are watching how you deal with the waiter or that handyman, and they are probably more likely to imitate you.'"

   "His dad's death at age 66, when Jerry was 30, was the first great loss of Seinfeld's life.  Did it crush him?  Surprisingly, after a brief pause, he says no.

    "'I tend to accept life as it is,' he says. 'I'm not one of those 'Life isn't faif' people.  I tend to accept whatever the limits are, whatever the rules are.'  He sits back.  His love for his father is evident, but no more evident of the basic fact that the man is no longer around..."

For me, it is so nice to know that someone like silly Jerry Seinfeld has a very realistic outlook on parenting and life. 

I mean, I know of people who can't even keep their checkbook straight, or figure out that purchasing groceries is more important than getting their hair done.  And these are individuals from my generation.  Over indulging is such a tragedy.  It makes for adults who can't seem to function in the real world, and worse yet, aren't equipped to parent their own children.  If you're taught to be entitiled to everything as a child, one of two things seems to happen...you still feel entitled when you're grown putting yourself before everyone else, including your own children, or you pass the same mentality to your children reapeating the cycle all over again.  I've witnessed it, and it is truly sad. 

That being said, I'm not a perfect person or parent.  I do have a pretty good self-awareness.  I know when I'm lacking and in what areas, and I try to better myself.  Typically, I don't need to be told these things by my husband, or mother, or father, or sister, or my kids.  And, for that self-awareness, I thank my parents, who let us solve our own problems, who didn't over-indulge us, who SHOWED us they loved us with acitons not things, who taught us you deserve nothing without hardwork and determination, and even then nothing is gauranteed, who always led from an example and not just words, and instilled their morals and values into us by their examples. 

Thank you!  I hope to be half the parents you are.  I think I'll be successful, even then.

Happy, healthy, contributing members to society...that's all I can hope for.

The narcissistic blogger...that's me!

I stumbled upon this book the other day.  I am thinking about ordering it. 

I've been thinking a lot about narcissism, lately.  I've been pondering the idea that blogging is quite a narcissistic act.  Thanks to the movie 'Julie & Julia', (the big arguement scene between Julie and her husband). 

Which led me to think about how narcissism isn't necessarily a BAD thing.  If exhibited in moderation. 

Shall I explain?

M'kay...

Yes, our society has definitely seen an unhealthy inflation of the self-image, even to the point of sinfull pride, destroying families and relationships.  The 'me, me, me' sydrome.  'I deserve it', 'I'm entitled to it', 'I work hard, so I should be able to get it'.  I've heard it all, I've seen it all. 

Mothers who put themselves and their own entertaining endeavors above everyone else, including their children, fathers who are more interested in feeding their already inflated egos rather than spending time with their families, people running amuck only worried about their own gratification and desires, never thinking about consequences. 

But, that's not me.

I blog.  I guess that makes me narcissistic...to a degree.  Actually, let's not beat around the bush.  It DOES make me narcissistic. 

One portion of my life is self-involved.  A tiny part.  It started as a means to get a grip on a life that I found to be suddenly very out of control.  To organize my thoughts, reach out to others like me.  NEVER to toot my own horn. 

Has it evolved into something else?

Abso-freakin'-lutely.

Should I feel ashamed?

No. 

Here's why...

For 10-20 minutes of my 24 hour day I think what I have to say, or share is pretty great.  Important, even.  A craft project, a political opinion, an accomplishment of my children, feeling sad or happy.  No one has to read it or like it or care.  But, I think it's pretty darn fabulous. 

I don't buy myself a lot of things, maybe a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans a year or a couple of pairs of shorts in the summer (the 75% off Target rack is my favorite resource), and only after the kids are outfitted.  I waited, patiently, for 5 years (until they could be reasonably paid for) for a laptop, cable TV, and a camera.  I don't drive a fancy car, just a van that's paid off.  I don't 'go out' a lot.  I don't get my hair or nails done.   I rarely go out to eat.  I never feel entitled to a vacation.  I don't take the easy way out.  And, I firmly believe that you should work your tail off for the life you want. 

In real life, I'm self-conscious of my height (but, I do stand up straight, always stand up straight).  I never thought I was super attractive or funny.  I'm shy.  Yes, I'm shy.  I think I'm an 'okay' mother, wife, and friend.  I could always do better and be better.  ALWAYS!  I'm a pretty terrible Catholic Christian woman.  I never seem to measure up in that department, no matter how hard I try.  I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut at times.  But, mostly, in REAL life, I don't think I'm super fantastic.  I hurt people's feelings sometimes, burn the pot roast occasionally, more than once have lost my patience with my kids, and love some harmless gossip over coffee.  Just a woman trying to make it in this sad, broken world.

But, under the blanket of the internet, I'm a bit more immodest.  Less insecure.  Sure, even here, like in real life, I make mistakes. Say or write things that, although I may stand behind 100%, in hindsight could have been articulated better.  I am only human, afterall.  But, in my blogging adventure, I have come to have a new appreciation for myself, and what I DO have to offer the world.   In my quest to become the person people perceive me to be on the blog, I have become a better mother, wife, and friend.  Even if it's just a little.  I bounce back quicker from sad or bad times.  I feel happier, and am more thankful than ever for everything gracious God has entrusted me with. 

If that makes me narcissistic,

well, then,

guilty as charged.

Making it work.

I am a walking contradiction. 

About a lot of things, really.

Mostly, because I'm a big believer in 'exceptions'. 

To keep it light, I'll focus on my conflicts in home design aesthetics.

I LOVE this...

image via Apartment Therapy

But,  I, also, really LOVE this...

image via Country Living

I LOVE this...

image via House to Home

But, I LOVE this, too...

image via Country Living

It all comes down to this...

You should surround yourself with things you love. 

People, objects, thoughts, ideas, food, decor.

If one contradicts the other, that's okay.

If at the core of 'you' is a strong person rooted in a firm value system based on good ethics and morals, it's okay to have a crazy, fun, fly by the seat of her pants kind of friend, AND a more introverted, intellectual, let's talk philosophy kind of friend.

It's cool to have a country, cottage, farm house table surrounded by mid-century, Eames style, dining chairs.

Because if all of it reflects who you are, your contradictions and all, then it will work.  Things will click.  Fall into place. 

Life doesn't match.  It is full of opposites, paradoxical contrasts. 

That's why it's interesting, and FUN.

I hope all areas of my life reflect this belief. 

Including my home.

What we woke up to in the Lou.

I am so happy I got some photos before the plows whizzed through, and the kids trampled it to death. 

It really is so pretty. 

(Do you sense a 'but' coming?)

(Isn't there always a 'but(t)' on this blog? In more ways than one I'd say!)

BUT...

Saint Louis, what is wrong with you?  Really? 

It's 5 inches of snow. 

They were referring to it as a 'winter blast' on the news last night. 

C'mon.  Hardly.

We get snow every winter.  This is nothing new.

You would think we've never seen it, and don't know what a plow and a salt truck are.

Why does this city shut down when it gets a dusting of  this white frozen stuff? 

Have we forgotten that many parts of the county looked like this recently?

image via littlebitfunky.blogspot.com

I mean, seriously, that's my bloggy friend's yard in the east. 

(BTW, Crystal, I heart your ingenious use of the Fiskars rotary cutting guide.  Nice.)

Don't believe me that this city is in a state of utter panic?

Below is a photo my Facebook friend, Erica, took of the bread aisle at a local grocery store last night.

I have no words.

Actually, I do, but I wanna wrap this up. 

Because I could go on and on and on about that one.

Moral of this story:

I love the Lou, but honestly, get over it.

It's five inches.

It will be gone by Monday.

Enjoy it while it's here, and put your sheer terror and panic on the back burner.

Thank you!

Curling up with a good book.

First off, I would like to apologize to Jill, my beautiful, slightly older, much shorter, sister, whom I love dearly. 
For on this particular topic, we will never agree. 

***

Okay, alrighty then...

shall we begin?

I have a real problem with these new electronic book readers.

The Kindle, the E-Book, or whatever.

Sure, they make sense.

They're economical in the long run, they'll reduce your carbon footprint,

they're small and convenient, they can store a gagillion books, newpapers, magazines.

Blah, blah, blah.

I get it.

But,

I love books.

Real ones.

Ones you can hold in your hand,

and smell,

and write in,

and highlight,

and stack on a shelf.

All kinds.

Classics,

smutty romance,

adventure,

travel,

biographies.

image from decoratorshome.blogspot.com

I'm gonna put these electronic book readers on my

technology con list. 

They're just too much for me.

Call me crazy, but...

I wanna curl up with a bound block of paper,

not cold plastic and metal.

And, please,

as always,

feel free to disagree.

:)

a season for change.

***Warning:  this is going to be a ramble.  I have not organized my thoughts on this one AT ALL.  These kinds of posts always seem to get me into trouble, but it's my blog, so deal.

I come from a VERY large extended family on both sides.  My mom's side is significantly larger than my dad's, but both are pretty big.  My dad comes from a family of 5 (his middle brother, my uncle, is deceased), and my mom comes from a family of 8.  What makes both families unique, is that, aside from the occasional college student, we all live in the area.  Isn't that weird/cool/sad/good all at the same time?

Needless to say, it has caused mass chaos at holiday time throughout the years.  Gotta go here, gotta be there kind of stuff.  Fast forward to 2009.  It's hard.  Really hard. 

Here's the deal...
I really enjoy being with my family.  ALL of them.  But things in my own world are changing.  I'm not the 18-year-old girl dragging her boyfriend (yes, he became my husband) around to only 2 events.  I'm a wife & mother to 4 children.  Christmas is about a lot of things, but namely, it's about sharing the magic of the birth of the King with children, and everything else that goes along with that.  And, now that I have my own kids, that one sentence has a whole new meaning for me. 

Let me say again, I love my extended family.  We all get along, and laugh, and joke, and play games, and, generally, enjoy each other when we are all together.  But, when is enough, enough? 

That sounded harsh.  And, I really, really don't mean it to. 

What I'm trying to say, and failing at miserably, is that as time goes on, can things always remain the same.  Can we all cram into someone's house, shoulder to shoulder, with new girlfriends, husbands, babies, etc., and still get the same thing out of it that we did 15 years ago?

On my mom' side we have resorted to renting a hall, or splitting up into our smaller groups to do holidays, birthdays, and the like.  I feel like, at this point, we just get together for the sake of getting together. A HAVE to, not a WANT to.  And, I really do still want to see them, and spend time with them around the holidays, but it's getting to be so much.  Church, Chirstmas Eve festivities, then Christmas morning with just us, then Jake's side, then my side.  Ugh!

I want to claim one of the two days as our own.    No distractions.  Just us.  Any which way I look at it, it's the Christmas Eve gathering that needs to get axed.  It makes me sad, but at the same time, I'm not sure that I still get the same charge out of that party that I used to.  I still enjoy it, but it's not the same.

That's sounds awful.  And, sometimes change is hard to stomach, but it's necessary.  Unavoidable.

I hope I didn't make any of my familial readers sad or mad.  Sometimes, I think that I say out loud what many of you are thinking.  There are pros and cons to zipping it shut AND being more upfront.  Is there a right or a wrong?  I'm not sure.  Confronting it head on has always worked better for me.   

Does anyone else feel the same?  Please tell me I'm not alone...

Please.

green eyed.

illustration by Steve Mack

www.spotillustration.com

I've been thinking a lot about gifts that people are blessed with.  Like, how my sister can always make me laugh, even if I'm really in a funk, how my mom can always make me see the reality of a situation, how my best friend is a good listener, or how another friend of mine is really good about thinking of those less fortunate.  And, then of course, there are the other kind of gifts people possess.  I guess you would call them talents.  My mother can decorate a house like a professional Better Homes & Gardens stylist, but on a fierce budget.  My sister can sew and cook.  Good.  My dad and husband are good at figuring out how to build stuff, or bring my mom's and my ideas into fruition.

What I'm getting at is why should people be envious or jealous of people's gifts and talents?  God meant for all of us to be different.  To be good at different things.  To bring our talents and positive attributes together, and share them.  To use them to make others and ourselves happy, and in the process giving the resulting glory back to the Big Man. 

Recently, I've been made to feel crappy about the fact that I've made our home nice and aesthetically pleasing (at least to us), that I find the time to blog (which, all of you fellow bloggers know doesn't take much time), that I can make things with my own two hands instead of buying it (sometimes making it even better), or that my family can survive on a strict budget with no help from outside sources (I can show you my bank statements to prove it).  Why do people care?  Or better yet, why do they waste their time worrying about it?  I don't do any of the above to make people angry or feel bad.  In fact, my intention is the exact opposite.  I want to share my talents, show others that they can do it, too.  That it's nothing special or extraordinary.  Just resourcefulness, creativity, a will to decide that you CAN.  We all have it inside of  us.  Some choose to use it, some don't.  Whatever works for you and your family is cool. 

The bottom line is this...
We can all be a bit jealous of others at times.  I'm just as guilty as the next guy.  But, keep it innocent.  Don't let it bother you (sometimes easier said than done).  Don't let jealousy become envy.  Don't let it turn you into a cruel, green eyed monster.  Become proactive instead.  Turn that energy into something you and God can both be proud of.  He wants us to use our gifts. 

In the end, we make time for what we want to make time for.  For me, family is and always will be first.  Everyone happy, fed, warm, clean, snuggled, loved...then I can write, craft, read, beautify.  We can't be all things to all people all the time.  It's impossible.  There are many hours in the day, and an idle mind is such an unfortunate waste...unless, of course, you need a Calgon moment. :)

And, hey, you don't have to take my word for it (holla for the Reading Rainbow nod):

What we are is God's gift to us. What we become is our gift to God. ~Eleanor Powell

Your talent is God's gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God. ~Leo Buscaglia

 

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me."  ~Erma Bombeck

 

Ugh.

Lately, I am feeling like there isn't enough of me to go around. 

The walls are closing in. 

It always seems to happen during the holidays.

Every year I try to set things up so that this doesn't happen.

And every year, I seem to fail.

I say no to doing too much at school, no to buying/making too many gifts for too many people,

no to baking too many cookies, no to sending too many cards.

I try my best to simplify.

So, what gives?

Why is it the same every year?

It's getting better...

but certainly not simple.

I've even contemplated staying in ALL day on Christmas Eve,

with just our little family. 

Why is it that the one time of year when we should all slow down and breathe

is the one time during the year that we seem to go into hyperdrive?

I would, seriously, hybernate for a week during Christmastime.

Just the 6 of us.

If only.

A girl can dream.

Is that totally selfish?

Thoughts...

 

on oopsies, accidents, mistakes, etc.

I hope I don't lose any of you over this.  It is strictly my own opinion (and, everyone else's who agrees with me).  I, also, don't dislike people who fall under this very topic.  So, please don't comment below or FB me telling me that's what I'm really saying.  Because it's not.  And, I'm thinking that if enough of you who disagree dig deep, you'll agree, too.  The facts and stats just add up, ya know?  I'm a big numbers girl. 

Okay, so, let me just say it... 

I.DO.NOT.BELIEVE. IN.BABY.MAKING.ACCIDENTS. (with VERY few exceptions) 

Before you go nutty on me, let me explain all of the reasons I feel this way.  The exceptions aside, I would be willing to defend my position to the death.  I would do it, too, so don't test me.  And, quite frankly, unless you are a mixed martial arts champion, my 6 foot tall, size 11 shoe, frame, would kick your tail, and you know this as well as I do.

To say that one of your children was an accident or an oopsie, or worse yet, a mistake, not only makes you sound stooooopid, but, well, it's just not the honest to goodness truth of the matter.  If people who did this would quit pretending and stop believing the lie themselves, they would accept this to be true.  I'm sure of it.  And, really, there are worse things than saying you knew better.   

Following are several, but not all, of the scenarios in which I can defend my position. Ready?  Mkay.

1.  'the Obvious':  If you are sexually active and not using birth control (bc) and turn up pregnant...not an accident.  Even if you didn't intend or plan on being with child, what did you expect when if you didn't use bc?  And, I'm hear to tell you that, although, the Rhythm Method has worked for some, it is not a very safe or reliable form of bc.  And, don't pretend you didn't know this.  Because you do.

2.  the 'we used the Withdrawal method':  Really?  WTH?  (Sorry, Mrs.Lewis)  Wasn't it in like 6th or 7th grade health class that you learn about PRE-ejaculation.  I apologize for the term, but we're all adults here.  Yes, ladies (and gents)  a few swimmers come out before the rest.  Let's call this a false start.  They may have been disqualified, but they 'won' the race in the end, if you now what I'm sayin'.  And, yes, even my dear, sweet, Mrs.Lewis knows this, but we tend to think what has worked in the past will work forever and always.  We get careless and lazy.  It's cool.  But, it's also like playing Russian roulette.  If you're not ready to deal with the consequences (and she was), DON'T play at it. Bottom line:  if this is your preferred form of bc (or, really, lack thereof) and you are announcing your impending bundle, say, "Well, our pregnancy is not really an oopsie, because I am an adult and know better. So, let's just say it was an unexpected surprise."  You will sound so much smarter, and cooler.

3.  the 'i was on antibiotics' excuse:  Okay, I, personally, know like 5 bagillion people who say this is how they got pregnant...on accident.  And, no doubt!  Anyone with a pulse and a who-ha knows that antibiotics interfere with the efficacy of bc pills.  I'm not sure who these womens' physicians are, but mine (my OB-GYN and my internal medicine physician) has TOLD me this.  Numerous times.  Every time I get an antibiotic.  Even now that my tubes are tied.  Even if you are on hormone based bc, you need an additional form of contraception while on antibiotics.  Seriously, you do.  A condom, a diaphragm, foam, a sponge, something for goodness sakes.  If you do not do this, chances are you will get preggo. 

4.  the 'I skipped a few pills' excuse:  This one is easy.  Don't.  If you do, there is a small chance your egg will get fertilized.  The pill will work...if taken appropriately.  The bc pill is 99.8% effective.  Of the remaining .2%, about .193% of resulting pregnancies is from HUMAN ERROR.  You have a better chance of getting hit by lightening while riding a unicylce.  Based on how many people I know that were/are with child with this excuse, you would think that the pill was about 68% effective, and, then, why bother?  That being said, if you do miss one pill...newsflash, you bc still has the same effectiveness as if you actually took it when you were supposed to.  Shocking, I know.  Let me tell you a story.  Early on in our marriage, I would sometimes miss up to 3 in a row.  I know.  Dumb.  And, I still didn't get pregnant.  I would have accepted it openly if I had, as would Jake, and I certainly wouldn't have said it was an accident.  I might have said, "Hey everybody, I got pregnant out of shear stupidity."  or "Although, we are very happy about the news, my pregnancy is a direct result of my carelessness." 

5.  the 'his condom broke' line:  Really?  This is one of my favorites.  Oh, the chances...  Have you ever stretched out a condom as far as it would go?  I mean, honestly.  I'm not even going to humor this one.

6.  the ever popular, 'I thought I had to go off of the pill months ahead of time to get pregnant, it's only a month later, and I just wasn't expecting this...now what?':  Wow!  Again, let's go back to the doctor here.  My doctor has told me over and over it only takes one period off, and then...sh-zam!  You can get a baby bump.  If your doctor has not told you this, don't you think it is an important enough subject to ASK?!  I am living proof, 2 Xs over that this happens.  Consequently, it makes sense to tell people the boys were, indeed, planned.  No bc pill + friendly relations = a baby 9 months later.  It's really very simple math.  Here's a funny story...even after knowing of my own first 2 baby making experiences, my sister (God love her)  made this fateful mistake.  We can all laugh about it now, because she admits to what a capital I, idiot, she was.  Good times!

7.  (directly related to #1 and #2) the 'I just figured that if I hadn't gotten pregnant in this long...': Um, no.  Avoiding pregnancy is a month to month day to day situation.  And if you subcribe to this nonsensical excuse, a gamble.  Just because you got away with it on the first try, or the 6th, or 12th, or 38th, does not mean it will work in months 40, 57, or 174.  Got it?  Along these lines, you most certainly CAN get preggers at any time during your cycle.  Even if you would bet your right kidney you know not only the day, but the hour you ovulate.  Scouts honor.  Weirder things have happened, and NO ONE is exempt from this phenomenon.  I don't care how well you think you know your body.

8.  the 'How did I get pregnant?  I'm breastfeeding!'  Again, with the whole doctor thing.  My OB-GYN asks me after the baby is born while still IN THE HOSPITAL what form of bc I'll be using post-partum.  All four times I've always gotten the same one line, "Beth, don't forget...just because you're breastfeeding and may not be having a period, you CAN get pregnant."  I shouldn't hold the doctor souly responsible.  It's also in a ton of breastfeeding literature, including, but not limited to, the big folder of stuff you get while in the hospital.  My hospital lactation consultant also told me.  In my personal case, I already knew this, by educating myself, and from having a very resourceful mother.  Read stuff, ask questions, don't assume anything! 

I could go on and on, but I'm sure half of you are already so peeved at me you can't see straight anymore, so I'll leave it at my, personal, top 8. 

In addition, I would like to say that I have wanted to be pregnant 5 times in my life and got pregnant 5 times (pregnancy #4 resulted in a 10 week miscarriage).  ALL the other months and days that went by in 9+ years of marriage that I didn't want to get fertilized, I didn't.  It's really that simple.  If you REALLY do not want to be with child, AND (here's the important part) take the proper precautions, you will safely avoid a swollen abdomen. 

Otherwise, I firmly believe, that subconciously, or in some situations, consciously, you were wanting to get pregnant or didn't MIND getting prego.  And, that, in and of itself, really isn't bothersome to me.  But, for your own sake, just keep it real, and say so.   I would love to here someone say, "As surprised as I am, I really shouldn't be.  I didn't have a back-up while on antibiotics", or "Even though I've gone this long not getting pregnant while using the withdrawal method, I guess one of those suckers made it.  What was I thinking?" 

Don't even get me started on half-way intelligent adult women who have multilple 'oopsies'.  Wow!  Aren't all 'mistakes' supposed to be learned form?  I'm just sayin'.

And, above all else...the baby is not the oopsie or accident or mistake.  YOU are the one that slipped and made the mistake.  That beautiful baby is the result.  And, don't assume the people that you are sharing your news with are dumb.  Chances are they are not.  It is much easier to NOT get pregnant, than it is TO get pregnant. 

Most people that I know that have unexpected pregnancies, really, in the end, weren't that surprised.  They are/were, also, married adults (or have a good support system) who graciously accepted their babies knowing that it was their own actions or lack thereof that led to their pregnancies.  Everyone, in many situations, not just pregnancy, have slip ups.  We get careless, and make assumptions.  We think we are immune to certain conditions.  But, I hope that when it comes to bringing a human being into the world, we would all start thinking a bit differently.  Be more responsible.

I hate to sound like a high school sexual education instructor, but sex is a HUGE undertaking.  Sex and its consequences should not be taken lightly.  It is a gift, a privilege, a responsibility.  It should be respected and held in the utmost esteem.  It can be fun, and exciting, and good things can come of it, even if unexpected.  Adults should not have such a cavalier attitude about sex and its consequences.  We are too old to think, "Not me...".   

If you didn't know any of this, now, you do. 

Okay, let the nasty comments ensue.  Bring it.

pewter cups of milk.

I am currently reading the fifth book in the 'Outlander' series by Diana Gabaldon, 'The Fiery Cross'. I am not very far into it, maybe a couple of hundred pages out of over 1,000, but last night a passage struck me.

I am going to share it with all of you.

Now, is the time I give you all a warning that it's about breastfeeding. Although, it is quite graphically written, it is also beautifully done. I have never read an account of male/female relations while the woman is nursing so poignantly described.

Let me know if you share my sentiments...

****

"Tonight he had said them (wedding vows) in the blaze of firelight, before the face of God and the world, her people and his. His heart had been hers, and whatever else he had-but now there was no question of him and her, his and hers. The vows were given, his ring put on her finger, the bond both made and witnessed. They were one body.

One hand of their joint organism crushed a breast a little too hard, and one throat made a small sound of discomfort. She drew back from him a little, and he felt rather than saw her grimace. The air came cold between them and his own skin felt suddenly raw, exposed, as though he had been severed from her with a knife.

'I need-' she said, and touched her breast, not finishing. 'Just a minute, okay?'

Claire had fed the child while Brianna went to make her overtures with the Reverend Caldwell. Bursting with porridge and stewed peaches, Jemmy could scarcely be roused to suckle briefly before relapsing into somnolence and being taken away by Lizzie, his wee round belly tight as a drum. That was as well for their privacy-drugged into such a gluttonous stupor, it was unlikely the bairn would wake before dawn. The price of it, though, was the unused milk.

No one living in the same house with a nursing mother was likely to be unaware of her breasts, let alone her husband. They had a life of their own, those breasts. They changed size from hour to hour, for the one thing, swelling from their normal soft globes into great round hard bubbles that gave him the eerie feeling that if he touched one it would burst.

Now and then, one did burst, or at least gave that impression. The ridge of soft flesh would rise like kneaded bread, slowly but surely pushing above the edge of Brianna's bodice. Then suddenly there would be a big, wet circle on the cloth, appearing magically, as though some invisible person had thrown a snowball at her. Or two snowballs-for what one breast did, its fellow rushed at once to follow suit.

Sometimes the Heavenly Twins were foiled, though; Jemmy drained one side, but inconsiderately fell asleep before performing the same service for the other. This left his mother gritting her teeth, gingerly taking the swollen orb in the palm of her hand, pressing the edge of a pewter cup just under the nipple to catch the spray and dribble as she eased the aching fullness, enough to sleep herself.

She was doing it now; modestly turned away from him, an arisaid gathered around her shoulders against the chill. He could hear the hiss of the milk, a tiny chime against the metal.

He was reluctant to drown the sound, which he found erotic, but nonetheless picked up the guitar, and put his thumb to the strings, his hand on the frets. He didn't strum or strike chords, but plucked single notes, small voices to echo his own, the thrum of one string singing through the chanted line.

A love song to be sure...(edit)

She never asked him not to, never turned away-and yet he could tell by the faint intake of her breath that, often, she was bracing herself not to flinch when he touched her breasts.

Was it only tenderness? he wondered. Did she not trust him to be gentle?"

****

Who knew an account of that sort could be so moving?

And, to all the nursing mommas...is it not, about, 110% accurate?

Seriously.

I cannot express to you how beautiful these books are. I'm not sure how Miss Gabaldon does it. They are truly moving. For historical fiction, they are so relevant, and so profound.

Hope I didn't offend anyone. I mean, I DID give fair warning!

Run, Fat Boy, Run.

This past weekend I went to Chicago with my sister, cousin, and aunt & uncle to watch my other cousin run in the Chicago Marathon. I've never been a spectator at a marathon (or, and this goes without saying, a participant). It was incredible. I don't think anything has ever made me feel so slovenly, gluttonous, lazy, and just plain fat in my whole life. Seriously. I can't read for 4 hours +, let alone run for that long.

I am amazed at what the human body is capable of. And, in some way, I think that it's our duty to our body to unleash it's potential. It has occurred to me that bodies that are challenged, pushed, and stimulated beyond what we think is their threshold, have minds attached that are equally fit and sharp. The interconnectedness of it all astounds me. These, certainly, aren't new ideas. Dualism has been around for thousands of years; Hinduism, Shankhya, Plato, Aristotle, Descartes. But, to see someone push their body with their mind, to actually have someone before your eyes who you know wants to collapse into the fetal position and cry, but keeps running from the fuel their mind is providing for them, well, it's really quite astonishing. I mean, let's face it, I don't think the 45,000 participants on Sunday could be wrong.

So, congratulations Mikey! You are a rock-star! Your time was awesome (3:40ish), your purple shirt was awesome, your running tights were awesome, YOU were/are awesome!

ps Next year, I think you should pace yourself with Mr.Cut-offs. He ran about a 3:10. Maybe it's the shorts, maybe it's the hair, I don't know, but I'm just sayin'.

A research project.

Okay, so, I am interested as to what makes one a Nobel Peace Prize Laureate.

Anyone else?

I have come to the conclusion that the committee that chooses the recipients must be a collection of individuals who like to dabble in the intoxicating effects of methamphetamine.

After all, chronic users experience violent behavior, anxiety, confusion, paranoia, delusions.

Any of this falling into place for you?

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and propose that the said committee was on high doses of meth when choosing the likes of, hmmmmm, let's see...

Yasser Arafat-terrorist

Menachem Begin-violent radical

Henry Kissinger-accused of war crimes

Rigoberta Menchu-pathological liar

More recently, we come to my favorite...

Barrack Obama-howdy doody.

What has me stumped is this,

I am not really sure, specifically, what he has done to be counted among the other laureates.

Many of whom, no doubt, deserve their prize, and whom the commitee named under conditions, in which, I can only describe as, brief moments of lucid sobriety.

Plainly, no meth that day.

These include, but are not limited to...

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Dalai Lama

Mother Teresa

But, whatever.

I mean, didn't, like, Bradgelina or George Clooney have peace talks in the Middle East?

I don't see them toting around a Nobel coin.

Just sayin'.

What's in a name?

image from blaugh.com

So, I find out someone I know has a baby, right?

This said person could really be anyone (this is purely hypothetical).

You know, you get that call...

"Hey, Bernella had her baby last night?"

"Oh, yeah..."

Okay, here's where this conversation goes awry on my end.

I don't ask the weight, the length, the apgar scores.

At this point, the gender of the baby is really secondary to my concerns.

All I want to know is...

"...what did Bernella name the baby?"

Is this weird?

Probably so.

Most things about me are, indeed, a little off.

I love baby names.

More than the names, I love to try and figure out why people choose certain names for their kids.

I love when a name has a story.

This doesn't happen all the time, of course, but when it does, it's scrumptious.

It may make you reconsider your opinion of a name.

Case in point, Apple Blythe Alison Martin.

At first, I thought, what a cuckoo-weirdo-eccentric-will-have-to-stay-in celebrity-circles-its-whole-life-just-to-fit-in kinda name.

Then, I heard why Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin chose this particular name.

"It sounded so sweet and it conjured such a lovely picture for me – you know, apples are so sweet and they're wholesome and it's biblical – and I just thought it sounded so lovely and … clean! And I just thought, 'Perfect!'"

This strange name sky-rocketed in likeability points for me.

See?

My own kids don't have any great stories associated with their own names.

Jake is simple.

He's a junior, or a second, or whatever.

Pete was going to be Mitch or Max.

About 6-8 weeks before delivery, we chose Pete.

No real reason why.

Not many Pete's running around anymore, ya know?

A good, strong, masculine name to go with Jake.

All boy.

Betsy was tougher, but not difficult by any stretch.

First, she was going to be Meg or Annie or Jane.

One night, I was watching some period English movie, and during the credits a 'Betsy' caught my eye.

I mentioned it to Jake and it was a done deal.

My mom was very upset we didn't stick with the consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel theme.

I'm only telling you that because if you think I have issues, now you know the apple doesn't fall far.

Rosie is a completely different story.

Jake and I wanted to name her Tilly.

Period.

Everyone hated it.

I care too much what people think.

But, sometimes, like when you're naming a human being (which, incidentally, is a HUGE responsibility), I think you should consider CERTAIN people's opinions (the people who matter most to you).

After all, they are reflection of society as a whole.

The same society that will receive the child that you name.

The same society that will, all too often, judge that said child based on his or her name alone.

Sad, but true.

Tilly was out. (I'm still a bit jaded by that, though.)

Jake wanted Maggie or Josie, and I didn't really know what I wanted; Daisy, Willa, Molly, Nellie.

We then settled on Maisy.

I even had onsies personalized.

But, something didn't sit right.

My parents always would say to my sister and I that their names would make lovely names for their grandchildren.

Incidentally, their names are Rose and Vince.

As my due date drew nearer, I decided that there was some weight to what they said.

It helps that I love honoring people and the past with names for our future generations.

It was settled...she would be Rosie (what my mom is called daily, and it stuck with our nicknamey theme, no proper names for this crew), and middle name, Kathleen (Jake's mom's name).

When all was said and done, my mom was honored but didn't like it. :)

Another true story.

But, now, she just couldn't be any other name.

Cracklin' Rosie.

If she would've been a boy, it all would've been soooooooo much easier.

Gus Vincent.

The end.

PS The best baby name book EVER is
The Baby Name Wizard, by Laura Wattenberg.
You will LOVE it!

Charmingly cuckoo.

I just discovered All Things Original.
Have I been living under a rock?
It is full of gorgeousness.
It IS a bit pricey, but let's face it...
the prices look so cute with the sterling symbol in front of the numerals.
So cute, in fact, it may just make you think you're not spending as much as you really are.
Should I post the current exchange rate as a reminder?
My current favs...

...that delectable charm bracelet up there.
I would give up the clothes I have on right at this very moment,
and wear it in just my skivvies if I could have it.
True story.

Pleasantly enough, this cuckoo necklace is smartly priced at 17.5 quid.
The good news here being that I would not have to walk around
in my underpants to have it.
Plus, I think it's fitting, no?
Anything cuckoo is quite symbolic of my own existence.

Be sure and check out All Things Original,
maybe while your facebooking tonight. ;)

Later!

Read this.

Normally, I do not press books, movies, or other entertainment. If you want to read it, watch it, or do it...that's cool by me. However, I DO think everyone, including those of the male variety, should read all of Miss Austen's novels, Leo Tolstoy's 'Anna Karenina', Roald Dahl's fanciful fiction, Bradbury's 'Farenheit 451', Bronte's 'Jane Eyre', and as much Shakespere as one can digest. Some things should just not go ignored. Reading is as close to a time machine as I could think to ever come in my lifetime.

After much persuasion on my sister's part, I had finally decided to crack open 'Outlander' by Diana Gabaldon.

I will admit that the first 100 pages or so were really not living up to my expectations based on my sister's accolades. But, then things start to happen. Oh, boy, do they ever!

This book spans wars, political schemes, 18th century Scottish Highland life (pee-yew), love, illness, death, human perseverance. It made me cry until my eyes swelled shut and laugh out loud so hard that Big Jake had to ask me, "What's wrong?".

The connection between the two main characters, Jamie Fraser and Claire Beauchamp Randall, is truly transcending. Their marriage is authentic and tangible. Their fights are comically real, and their physical connection is electrifying. At the core of this book is, in fact, their relationship, but it is by no means strictly a romance novel. It is 20th/21st century historical literature with a dash of science fiction. All at it's finest.

Diana Gabaldon's writing has spoiled me. Currently, I don't have any intention of reading anyone else. Good thing there are, currently, 7 books in the series with more to come; 'Outlander', 'Dragonfly in Amber', 'Voyager', 'Drums of Autumn', 'The Fiery Cross', 'A Breath of Snow and Ashes', and 'An Echo in the Bone' . I am currently reading the third, then it's onto her 'Lord John' series.

Her words are magic. Her detail is unsurpassed. Instead of feeling like I'm reading, I feel like a storyteller is spinning me a tale. I just can't wait to find out what happens next and how one event or character is entwined with another. It is a tangled but glorious web she weaves.

If you do one thing for yourself before, let's say Christmastime, read, at the very least, 'Outlander'. You will not regret it.

Well, I hope not, anyway!

;)

Free?

image 'The Falling Man'

I was raised in a very patriotic family. My father is the embodiment of a true patriot. And, as the patriarch of the family, we always followed suit. We weren't forced to be proud of our American heritage, in fact, we were always encouraged to express our own opinions (imagine that) and were free to think as we wished. Being in the midst of man like my dad, it was hard not to quietly observe his countenance for the freedom this country has graciously provided us in our lifetimes. He was and still is a very dutiful man. He may not have always WANTED to fulfill his duty (military or otherwise), for fear of consequence or out of protest in the ideology behind the task at hand, but his duty binds him to fulfill something greater than himself.

From his quiet and humble example, I have grown to believe that God Himself gave us the gift, and sometimes the burden, of free will. It is a huge responsibility to have such a gift, and His faith in us to bear it must be surpassed ONLY by our faith in Him for bestowing it.

I count myself among millions, even billions, of lucky souls who not only posses this remarkable benefaction, but who live in a place where we can use it. Freedom does not always accompany free will. And, one without the other is troublesome and contradictory, to say the least.

Eight years ago, a group of individuals who believe differently than I, chose to take the free will AND freedom away from, nearly 3,000 people in the span of a regular work day. Those souls were not given any choice except to decide in an instant or less to surrender themselves to a heavenly end or not to.

One last, fleeting choice.

Free will under a free flag.

And because of a gracious God, and the help of men and women, like my father, that will remain one of the most profound gifts my children and I could ever receive.

Let us not forget...

Smart kinda stupid.

Sometimes, smart people do stupid, silly things.

I've always considered myself on the smarter side of the scale. Blessed genetically with a good dose of common sense and an above average panache for the books. I mean, hello, I got a 36 on the ACT. Okay, that was a bold faced lie. I really got a 27, a nice score, but nothing about it screams genius.

Incidentally, do they even take the ACT in the mid-west anymore? Isn't the SAT the new standard. Which, by the way, I got a 2400 on. Okay, another out and out lie. I never needed it for the schools I applied to.

I am, totally, avoiding the point of this post. Mainly, because I am going to admit (gulp) that I am...oh, my...here goes...wrong about something.

Anywho, with a certain level of intelligence comes a certain level of expectations. Expectations from yourself, from others. Sometimes it stinks. When you step outta line, it's noticed and it doesn't go unpunished. And, yes, sometimes I step out of line. Waaaaaaaaay out of line.

Recently, I did. Lesson learned. Restraint is always best, and often times speaks louder than hateful words. I don't apologize for how I feel, necessarily, but I do, publicly, here and now, apologize for the way in which I went about articulating my feelings. It was stupid, silly, rash, and could have been handled with so much more grace.

Anger makes us do really dumb things. It brings out the ignorance in us. It is really a wasted emotion, and one, that as far as I can tell, none of us can rise above. I have never hated anyone, and hope that I never do. What a terrible thing to have to feel. Anger is bad enough, but hate? Geesh!

Here, on this blog, I am at my most sincere. I say what I feel and feel what I say. God made us dynamic like that. What a Guy!

Bottom line, I was wrong in how I handled this particular situation, and I apologize to everyone involved.

My cousin reminds me of our humanness to persevere in the face of adversity and disaster. She posted a quote from the perfectly imperfect Marylin Monroe in the wake of this family catastrophe, and I must believe it's true. I hope everyone included in this mess does, too, in a positive way...

"...sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." -MM

Peace out!