The far too honest ramblings of an unwillingly divorced, recently re-married, stay-at-work mother of two + two ridiculously hilarious children, who, much to the incredible dislike of those who tolerate her, will not stop publicly divulging every silly thought that enters her head.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Don't Judge A Status by What You Want It To Say
The other day I made a comment on Facebook about how I was sick of seeing Marijuana called "harmless" on the internet. I was frustrated that because of the push towards legalization, my children are constantly seeing misinformation and propaganda regarding a drug with potentially harmful side effects. I was met, as Facebook lovingly will greet all posts more controversial than a smiling puppy, with both "thank you's" and malicious attacks. I never stated my opinion about using marijuana or the legalization of the drug. I, in fact, clearly stated that I had many good friends who used marijuana, both for medicinal and recreational use. Beyond that, my father is a licensed grower and I, personally, have completed the paperwork for patients to obtain medical marijuana. I have used it and that, is how I discovered I have a severe allergy to it.
My point though, was this, this drug has definite psychological, cardiac and pulmonary affects. The fact that the amount of THC can vary so immensely and is poorly regulated, can create major discrepancies in use. There are risks. There are both psychological and physiological risks to marijuana use. These side effects or potential for allergy need to be acknowledged and recognizable.
This was not a debate on whether marijuana is safer than cigarettes or beer. This was not a debate of whether your husband with cancer should be made to suffer. This was not a debate on how major pharmaceuticals have destroyed the market for safe drugs. Or a debate whether marijuana is even a drug. This was not an exploration into the possibility that there could be healthy uses of marijuana.This was not a debate on whether, you, as a grown adult, should be allowed to smoke a joint with your girlfriends on a Saturday night. This was me, standing up, saying I will not tell my children something is harmless when it is not harmless.
The internet has created a world where the misinformed come armed with memes, cheap one liners and reactionary tactics. It is the problem we come across when facing any political discussion these days, whether it be gun control, drug use, equal rights, economic policy or foreign affairs. We scream foul politics and beg for bi-partisanship, then turn our computers on and "share" one-sided misinformation. There is no room for moderate discussion. All the while, our CHILDREN are watching, and learning how to resolve conflicts with sarcasm and greet debate with misinformation.
It is irritating that we can have access to so much information and come armed with so little.
Friday, March 1, 2013
McTip's Snips Part One
I knew things were going on today for Donna's Day. Goodness, I had read Donna's story on Mary Tyler Mom months before. My heart had wept for their beautiful family. But I'm always so busy, and what could I do? I didn't really look deeper.
I know the statistics. About 1 in 300 children will experience cancer. I know it costs them more. I know from my meetings with our AFLAC rep that treatment costs more for children. And I know funding for research on pediatric cancer is terribly low. I sat down at my desk and started filling out patient paperwork. I completed the FMLA paperwork for a patient with recurrent breast cancer and stapled it together with my pink ribbon stapler and noticed the post on DeBie Hive. She was cutting her hair.
I don't have anything to give financially. Not right now. But I have all this hair. So much hair.
I have been growing my hair out since I started my life over. It, for some reason, makes me feel pretty and feminine, despite the major weight I've gained or wrinkles I've found over the past several years. A daily ponytail has become my staple look. And when I let it loose, or let it drip long and wet, down my back, I feel like a goddess. I feel beautiful.
Could I cut it?
I texted Mr. Perfect "would you still love me if I shaved my head for childhood cancer awareness?"
"I will always love you" he replied. And 10 minutes later he added, "Maybe I'll do it too."
I felt a wave of strength, like we could do this. We could make a difference. I went up front, with the office scissors and asked the girls if they wanted to cut off my hair. No guts, no glory, we needed enough for Locks of Love. We measured and found I had well over 10 inches, about 12 or 13 in fact, in my ponytail. So, we cut.
I know the statistics. About 1 in 300 children will experience cancer. I know it costs them more. I know from my meetings with our AFLAC rep that treatment costs more for children. And I know funding for research on pediatric cancer is terribly low. I sat down at my desk and started filling out patient paperwork. I completed the FMLA paperwork for a patient with recurrent breast cancer and stapled it together with my pink ribbon stapler and noticed the post on DeBie Hive. She was cutting her hair.
I don't have anything to give financially. Not right now. But I have all this hair. So much hair.
I have been growing my hair out since I started my life over. It, for some reason, makes me feel pretty and feminine, despite the major weight I've gained or wrinkles I've found over the past several years. A daily ponytail has become my staple look. And when I let it loose, or let it drip long and wet, down my back, I feel like a goddess. I feel beautiful.
Could I cut it?
I texted Mr. Perfect "would you still love me if I shaved my head for childhood cancer awareness?"
"I will always love you" he replied. And 10 minutes later he added, "Maybe I'll do it too."
I felt a wave of strength, like we could do this. We could make a difference. I went up front, with the office scissors and asked the girls if they wanted to cut off my hair. No guts, no glory, we needed enough for Locks of Love. We measured and found I had well over 10 inches, about 12 or 13 in fact, in my ponytail. So, we cut.
And I was left with a really cute cut and a lot of hair to send to Locks Of Love. Then, something else happened. My Sudden Attack Of Conscience sent me a message and asked me if I wanted to drive to Chicago at the end of the month, to attend a Saint Baldrick's Event in honor of Donna. And I said ABSOLUTELY.
I knew this meant some heads were going to get shaved. And I knew I'm always down for a double dog dare. So, I went to the St. Baldricks website and set up a team.
If $50 is donated, Mr. Perfect will shave his head.
If $250 is donated, Mr. P and Eldest daughter will shave her head.
If $1000 is donated, all 3 of us will.
All it takes is 1000 people to donate ONE DOLLAR.
All it takes is 1000 people to donate ONE DOLLAR.
Will you be part of this?
http://www.acco.org/Information/AboutChildhoodCancer/ChildhoodCancerStatistics.aspx
http://www.newswise.com/articles/parents-update-pediatric-cancer-myths-facts
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Hi. My Name is Jeanna and I'm Boring.
I have a confession. I'M BORING. I go to work Monday through Friday. I
sit at a desk. Then I go home. I have kids and dogs. When I’m at work I
daydream about boring things like naps. My favorite way to spend an evening is
in front of my wood burning stove, maybe with a dog on me, next to my fiancé. Eating.
He is also boring. We are monogamous. I don’t even drink.
Hell, I don’t even eat bacon.
I’m boring and that’s why people like me.
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Image provided by www.paulocoelhoblog.com |
We live in a world that has become so impersonal and so segregated from
the community, that people all feel crazy. They feel alone. They feel lost. And
they feel hopelessly “different”. Human beings were meant to be communal
animals. Being with others is an integral aspect of our ability to be alone. We
derive our consciousness of self through the reflections of others. We learn “self”
reflection by acknowledging our likenesses with others. From viewing “without”
we gain insight to “within”. And this ability to self reflect, well, “sapience”,
“to know”, is a vital part of being a “homo sapien”.
I turn on the TV at home and see a show about people who write parking tickets. We make dinner with Honey Boo Boo’s family. We go tuna fishing with a group of strange guys. Why? Are these lives really more interesting than our own? Why do we care about things that aren’t that interesting? Why do we care about people like ourselves?
Simply, because, we can relate.
We live in a world that moves fast. We have the ability to access so much knowledge of so many interesting things. Most of us possess this ability in the palm of our hands. We, for the first time in history, are able to know how NOT interesting we all are. Most of us live simple lives. So, when we see a glimmer of recognition in the mediocrity of someone else’s life, we cling to it. We cling to it and breathe a sigh of relief that we aren’t missing out on a life better lived.
And the more we get to know each other, the more we delve past the surface and begin to explore and reflect, we realize; despite the similarities of our mediocre lives, it is our individual experiences and our ability to share them, that makes us uniquely interesting… and human.
I turn on the TV at home and see a show about people who write parking tickets. We make dinner with Honey Boo Boo’s family. We go tuna fishing with a group of strange guys. Why? Are these lives really more interesting than our own? Why do we care about things that aren’t that interesting? Why do we care about people like ourselves?
Simply, because, we can relate.
We live in a world that moves fast. We have the ability to access so much knowledge of so many interesting things. Most of us possess this ability in the palm of our hands. We, for the first time in history, are able to know how NOT interesting we all are. Most of us live simple lives. So, when we see a glimmer of recognition in the mediocrity of someone else’s life, we cling to it. We cling to it and breathe a sigh of relief that we aren’t missing out on a life better lived.
And the more we get to know each other, the more we delve past the surface and begin to explore and reflect, we realize; despite the similarities of our mediocre lives, it is our individual experiences and our ability to share them, that makes us uniquely interesting… and human.
***Dedicated to Mary, who says I'm not interesting.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
How I wooed him in.
As most folks know, Mr. P and I met on Facebook. But it was not the online dating experience one might expect.
He was FB friends with my ex husband's cousin. They went to prom together back in the days when everyone was skinny and he had a giant high school porn star mustache. I've seen the pictures. She looked stoned and he had a protruding adam's apple and bad posture.
He added me because I made him laugh. I imagine he spent all day, as a stay at home dad, online waiting for pics of her to pop up so that he could read our commentaries. Knowing this made me want to delve into the past and find his first comments. Back when he called me "she" (because he was posting on my pics that Cousin was tagged in). Back to the beginning of how we met. Mr. P and me, and apparently, we started with a duckface....
Comments on this picture, July 1, 2009:
Me: I would prefer to be Latoya.
Cousin: I've always been Penny therefore I am Janet.
Me: Ms. Jackson ( I'm nasty)
Cousin: Nasty pretty much sums us up.
Me: yep.
Cousin: 'tonite, I'm livin in a fantasy, my own little nasty world, tonite, dontcha wanna come w me, do u think I'm a nasty girl!'
Me: Who's that thinkin' nasty thoughts?
Cousin:who's dancin 2 my nasty groove?!
Cousin: I hate u. U r photogenic. I have 2 b appreciated in person. good thing I dnt need 2 do any internet dating!
Me: No my first name ain't baby...
Cousin: ...sittin in the movie show thinkin nasty thoughts.
Cousin: i was channeling some Vanity 6 earlier. much nastier, more our speed.
Me: I don't like no nasty car, I don't like a nasty food!
Me: Hey, what was the hateful comment stuck in there? U r gorgeous!
Cousin: lol! yeah but i take crappy pics. it was a compliment!! 'hate' meaning 'love'. kinda like how 'no' means 'yes'!
Me: Right! As long as they're wet!
Cousin: OMG! we r TOTALLY sharing a brain 2day! I was gonna put that in next! I swear! Why did those Drs ever separate us and adopt us out 2 diff families in the first place?? Damn them! Damn them all 2 hell! ...and they took our brother [other fb friend] away as well, which was prob a good thing since he has no reservations about sibling sex.
Me: he's scerry.
Me: so r we actually related to [ex-husband]? maybe im more like [fb friend] than i want to admit...
Cousin: no, [ex-husband] was found in the dumpster behind Fraser Ice Arena. That's why he doesn't look like us. [fb friend] is frightening but we are more dangerous.
Me: oh so its not even weird that he is madly in love with you!
Cousin: Right! Damn, i was gonna mention that 2. The 'force' is strong btwn us 2nite
THE ENTRY OF MR. P: 1st of all, very cute pic!!! 2nd,,,,,, reading this, you two need a comedy show!!!! You two ROCK!!!!! Or a reality show, could you emagine???? LOL
Cousin: Yes I could imagine bcz we r funny, but it would have 2 be an internet routine since we are at our funniest online.
Mr: P: Oh to be fly on the wall!!!!
Me: i know a web designer....
Me: [Cousin], we should set up a website. I'm serious. We will be billionaires. I could finally buy the team of cabana boys I've been saving up for. You could have fried chicken every night. And pay naked men to oil up and mow your lawn. Things would be perfect.
Me: [Mr.P]r would be our first web customer for sure.
That was it. From that moment he was hooked. He would like all my photos for the next 2 years. He would "laugh his butt off" and give {{hugs}} whenever I was sad. Cousin and I would tease him, calling him "Norman Rockwell" with his statuses about his kids and cleaning and how he loved them, God, his country and fuzzy animals everywhere. I would roll my eyes at "Mr. Perfect."
And tell him to "stop being so obviously, in love with me."
On August 14, 2011 we met for lunch. Just because we talked so much online we might as well. It wasn't a date. It was a curiosity. It was a whythehecknot. It was a wehavebecomefriends. And I knew. I knew right then and there as I said "hi", I would marry the guy. I didn't know when or how, but I knew I would.
So...Happy birthday Mr. Perfect. I love you and am so glad you thought I was funny! May I always make you laugh.
And the reason I started My Children Think I'm Perfect, to deal with http://mychildrenthinkimperfect.blogspot.com/2012/04/never-wake-bleeding-bear.html
He was FB friends with my ex husband's cousin. They went to prom together back in the days when everyone was skinny and he had a giant high school porn star mustache. I've seen the pictures. She looked stoned and he had a protruding adam's apple and bad posture.
He added me because I made him laugh. I imagine he spent all day, as a stay at home dad, online waiting for pics of her to pop up so that he could read our commentaries. Knowing this made me want to delve into the past and find his first comments. Back when he called me "she" (because he was posting on my pics that Cousin was tagged in). Back to the beginning of how we met. Mr. P and me, and apparently, we started with a duckface....
Comments on this picture, July 1, 2009:
Me: I would prefer to be Latoya.
Cousin: I've always been Penny therefore I am Janet.
Me: Ms. Jackson ( I'm nasty)
Cousin: Nasty pretty much sums us up.
Me: yep.
Cousin: 'tonite, I'm livin in a fantasy, my own little nasty world, tonite, dontcha wanna come w me, do u think I'm a nasty girl!'
Me: Who's that thinkin' nasty thoughts?
Cousin:who's dancin 2 my nasty groove?!
Cousin: I hate u. U r photogenic. I have 2 b appreciated in person. good thing I dnt need 2 do any internet dating!
Me: No my first name ain't baby...
Cousin: ...sittin in the movie show thinkin nasty thoughts.
Cousin: i was channeling some Vanity 6 earlier. much nastier, more our speed.
Me: I don't like no nasty car, I don't like a nasty food!
Me: Hey, what was the hateful comment stuck in there? U r gorgeous!
Cousin: lol! yeah but i take crappy pics. it was a compliment!! 'hate' meaning 'love'. kinda like how 'no' means 'yes'!
Me: Right! As long as they're wet!
Cousin: OMG! we r TOTALLY sharing a brain 2day! I was gonna put that in next! I swear! Why did those Drs ever separate us and adopt us out 2 diff families in the first place?? Damn them! Damn them all 2 hell! ...and they took our brother [other fb friend] away as well, which was prob a good thing since he has no reservations about sibling sex.
Me: he's scerry.
Me: so r we actually related to [ex-husband]? maybe im more like [fb friend] than i want to admit...
Cousin: no, [ex-husband] was found in the dumpster behind Fraser Ice Arena. That's why he doesn't look like us. [fb friend] is frightening but we are more dangerous.
Me: oh so its not even weird that he is madly in love with you!
Cousin: Right! Damn, i was gonna mention that 2. The 'force' is strong btwn us 2nite
THE ENTRY OF MR. P: 1st of all, very cute pic!!! 2nd,,,,,, reading this, you two need a comedy show!!!! You two ROCK!!!!! Or a reality show, could you emagine???? LOL
Cousin: Yes I could imagine bcz we r funny, but it would have 2 be an internet routine since we are at our funniest online.
Mr: P: Oh to be fly on the wall!!!!
Me: i know a web designer....
Me: [Cousin], we should set up a website. I'm serious. We will be billionaires. I could finally buy the team of cabana boys I've been saving up for. You could have fried chicken every night. And pay naked men to oil up and mow your lawn. Things would be perfect.
Me: [Mr.P]r would be our first web customer for sure.
That was it. From that moment he was hooked. He would like all my photos for the next 2 years. He would "laugh his butt off" and give {{hugs}} whenever I was sad. Cousin and I would tease him, calling him "Norman Rockwell" with his statuses about his kids and cleaning and how he loved them, God, his country and fuzzy animals everywhere. I would roll my eyes at "Mr. Perfect."
And tell him to "stop being so obviously, in love with me."
On August 14, 2011 we met for lunch. Just because we talked so much online we might as well. It wasn't a date. It was a curiosity. It was a whythehecknot. It was a wehavebecomefriends. And I knew. I knew right then and there as I said "hi", I would marry the guy. I didn't know when or how, but I knew I would.
So...Happy birthday Mr. Perfect. I love you and am so glad you thought I was funny! May I always make you laugh.
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Now |
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July 1, 2009: Mr. P: She just ruined this pic!!!
Me: not if u saw the bottom half...
|
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Our first photo together 2011 |
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Putting On My Socks (A Quick Jaunt into Panic)
The kids weren't at home. Mr. Perfect was at work. The day had started off miserably, so I figured the quiet house was begging me to take a nap. And I did. It was the hardest I had slept in months, I was solidly tucked into dreamworld, comfortably pantsless and wedged between my squishy pillow and the rhythmic breaths of my sleeping dog.
I woke two hours later, startled by my phone. Mr. P was on lunch and wondering what I was up to. Nap guilt washed over me. Sleep, as is the case for most moms, is my guiltiest pleasure. "Not much," I assured him. I drifted downstairs and threw a frozen pizza in the oven. Thank goodness for lonely days where I can sleep when I want and eat what I want, I thought. I sat down and absent-minded flipped through the Kindergartener's backpack papers that were strewn on the table.
As I was contemplating ordering over-priced meats of which 5% would go back to his school, I noticed my heart was racing. That's strange, I thought. I must just be tired. Am I dehydrated? Did I take my thyroid medication? Did I take it all week? What if I collapsed and died alone with the oven on? I went back to the papers, signing off on his report card. I smiled, he is too social and having a hard time following directions? Ha, what a shocker. Son of a bitch, why am I having palpitations?
I got up and checked the pizza. It was difficult to tell myself to walk to the kitchen, but this pizza was taking what seemed like hours. I took it out of oven and cut off a giant piece. I sat back down, winded and shoved it into my mouth. I chewed thoughtlessly and swallowed. I hated eating the pizza, but something felt wrong and my mouth seemed to be working so I went with it. I devoured another slice while I listened to my heart race. I tried to catch my breath. I felt panicked, but I also felt to still be half asleep. I crawled upstairs and laid back down. It suddenly hit me what was occurring.
I was having an attack. It had been so long since I had a panic attack. I didn't want to. I started sobbing hysterically. I hated being so screwed up. Why had I eaten that pizza? All I did was get fatter and now I'm back in bed. I needed to go outside but I couldn't get to my sock drawer. It was so far away. I was fairly certain my underwear were suffocating me. GET THEM OFF. I couldn't, though. I was never happy when I wore these underwear, was I? I thought if I could get up and kill myself I would. The man who lived here before me did. Imagine what they would say about the creepy suicide house in the woods! Maybe I was possessed by him. I knew I shouldn't have stopped taking my anti-anxiety meds 2 weeks before. Why was I still in bed? A normal person would just GET UP AND PUT ON THE FUCKING SOCKS. Breathe, breathe, breathe. You are a fucking nutjob, I told myself. Snot and tears covered my face. I looked at my phone. I had been crying for an HOUR. Nausea pushed me from my paralysis and I slid from my bed, like an obese, insane snake. I crept on all fours into the bathroom and threw up my pizza. As I started to breathe again, I noticed most my day was gone. I begged myself to get in the tub. I sat in the water until I began to shiver. I begged myself to get out. You can do it, I pleaded. Get dressed. Put on a shirt. Good job. Put on pants. Yes! Put on socks. No? Skip socks, then, put on shoes. See? Leave the house. You HAVE to get out. You have to breathe. STAND UP. STAND UP and go take your medication.
Sometimes, my hands go numb. Sometimes, I just cannot catch my breath. Sometimes, it takes me hours to convince myself to put on my socks. I have to be extra careful during those strange moments between waking and sleeping. I have generalized anxiety disorder. There are triggers, but occasionally I will just be happy as a dancing clam and I will feel the nagging tightness in my chest. I used to be paralyzed by it. Now, I am a seasoned warrior.
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What they didn't know was that she was a warrior, a survivor of a thousand battles, within her head. |
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