Author

Deborah Cruz

Stella Boonshoft. self-image, body awareness

Health

Stella Boonshoft: Body Issues Be Damned, It’s My Body, Deal with it!

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/21

written by Deborah Cruz

Stella Boonshoft; You Rock my Socks Off

Stella Boonshoft a New York University student took this photograph of herself in a bikini and posted it on her Tumblr account, The Body Love Blog.

Photographer Brandon Stanton then published the same image on his Facebook fan site, Humans of New York on Thursday, where it has since garnered 455,000 likes and been shared 20,000 times.

The image of Stella Boonshoft in her bikini has sparked a debate about body image and traditional notions of beauty, with some people congratulating Boonshoft and calling her an inspiration, and others criticizing the image for promoting obesity.

I don’t know about you but, as a woman who pretty much looks exactly like this in my own bikini right now and has battled with crappy eating disorders and been plagued with body dysmorphic disorder, this photo gives me hope. I am inspired by her tenacity and proud to know that there are women out there who are trying to change the status quo. I’m not saying that I want to live in a world where it’s accepted that people are unhealthy. I want better for people. I want them to be able to be healthy and fit but more than that, I want to raise my girls in a world where it’s okay to love yourself even if you are not a size 0. We need more role models.

I can’t be a role model. I am not that comfortable in my own skin. I try to be. I try to accept who I am but I have a long ways to go. I KNOW that I am blessed to be healthy and my worth is not in the size of my pants but this girl inspires me, which is exactly what she set out to do for women everywhere.

Stella Boonshoft Super hero to Young Women

“I know what I am trying to do, which is help young women struggling with their body image and expose the hypocrisy and cruelty that is size-ism,” she says on her site. “[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][I know that] is SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT [than] whatever feelings I may have about myself.”
‘THIS IS MY BODY, DEAL WITH IT’ : Stella Boonshoft in her own words
‘WARNING: Picture might be considered obscene because subject is not thin. And we all know that only skinny people can show their stomachs and celebrate themselves. Well I’m not going to stand for that. This is my body. Not yours. MINE. Meaning the choices I make about it, are none of your … business. Meaning my size, is none of your … business.

I wish there were more women like you in the world. You go Stella Boonshoft.

What do you think of Stella Boonshoft’s dare to be honest bikini photo?

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2012/10/21 10 comments

Joe Walsh Claims Abortion Without Exception is Wrong Every Time and Never Necessary

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/21

written by Deborah Cruz

Joe Walsh there are Exceptions to Every Rule

Late last week, Republican Representative Joe Walsh sparked a firestorm in suggesting there’s no medical reason to perform an abortion to save a woman’s life. ( Yes, I am asking myself the same question. When did I become the advocate for women’s rights blogger? I have not but it’s election time and I can’t in good conscience stand idly by while the politicians of the world muck up the topics by flip flopping and the only ones who are going to get hurt are you and I and our daughters, sisters and mothers.) During a debate with Democratic challenger Tammy Duckworth on Thursday, Joe Walsh declared that he was “pro-life without exception,” and said that due to medical advancements, there were no instances in which abortion was necessary to save the life of the mother. Just stop and let that sink in for a moment. These were his exact words.

“With modern technology and science, you can’t find one instance,” contended Walsh, whose claim quickly was refuted by medical professionals.

I’ve been saying for awhile that the Republican party is trying to set women’s reproductive rights back to the stone age and this is just one more example in a laundry list of things that the Republican party and the Mitt Romney, Joe Walsh, Paul Ryan, Todd Akin, and Terry England’s of the world are advocates for. I understand babies are cute and cuddly and only an animal trying to commit political suicide would ever have the balls to say that he gives a shit about women over a baby. But let’s be real folks, with no women there are no babies. With no rights, women may as well be animals or inanimate objects.

There are most certainly situations where abortions are medically necessary to save the woman’s life and I can tell you, no woman who was celebrating a pregnancy and planning for a child has ever taken the role of terminating her child’s life for her own lightly.It’s medically necessary. It’s a “You’re not going to get out of here alive. The baby won’t make it.Do you want to die with the baby or do you want to live to try again or take care of those children you already have?” I’ve never had to make that choice. I never had the opportunity to choose. My baby died and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. But I suspect that I, like all women, would trade my own life for my unborn child’s in a heartbeat, if it were an option but it’s usually not.

Joe Walsh you are just one in a long line of politicians throwing women’s rights under the bus to further your own career.

I’m so fucking sick and tired of hearing old, white men tell me what to do with my body. Dictating how I choose to live in the world. Tell me what rape is and what it’s not, deciding what is a legitimate violation of my body and what is not. Why should a man be able to punish me for making choices about my own body and how and when I choose to procreate?

Joe Walsh, read a book, take an anatomy class, and know this, women are people too. I had a reader ask me why I needed the choice to kill a baby to be a human. I don’t. I need the choice to make decisions concerning my own body and my life to be human. If you take away my right of choice, my right to decide how to live in the world, the freedom to pursue my dreams, then I may as well be a piece of furniture or a blow up doll. I was not put on earth to be just a servant to the male population and their every whim.

Men like Joe Walsh, Mitt Romney, Todd Akin, Paul Ryan and Terry England don’t care about women’s rights. They scare me. They make these crazy ignorant statements because they truly believe them and then as soon as they realize that people might not vote for them because of what they say, they backtrack and retract what they said or try to “clarify” and minimize it. They suddenly become gray. when they were adamantly black or what the day before.

Walsh clarified those comments in a long written statement to the news media this afternoon.
“Let me very clear [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][sic] that when I say I am pro-life, I mean that I am pro-life for the mother and I am pro-life for the unborn child. For me, there is no distinction between the two,” Walsh said.

Make a choice. Stick to it. Know the facts or keep your mouth shut. Joe Walsh I hope no one you love ever needs an emergency abortion to spare her life because then you will know the gravity and weight with which these decisions are truly made.

Joe Walsh

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2012/10/21 7 comments

Throat Punch Thursday

Throat Punch Thursday ~ When Plagiarism Affects More than Just your Traffic

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/18

written by Deborah Cruz

Plagiarism can be deadly

Plagiarism strikes again. I can’t even believe that this has happened. When I got the pingback to my blog and I saw where my post ended up, my stomach dropped. One of my worst nightmares realized.Not the fact that assholes were copying form websites ( thought that does chap my ass) but the fact of where they copied it to. I was horrified and quite literally, sick to my stomach. I had become one of the things I hate the most in the world, a proponent for the very thing that almost destroyed my life; the disease that cold have killed me.

I sit at my computer and I type away pouring out my heart and soul. I never really stop to think about how what I am writing can be twisted and construed. I don’t write in respect to reviews. I write raw and uncensored. I know the whole story and sometimes, I forget that some of my readers ( depending where I am writing) only have a glimpse into my life. They have no idea about who I am and my thoughts, beliefs. They get a snippet, a writer’s soundbite and they form, usually, not too flattering and often strong opinions about me. It does hurt, especially when they are condemning me and I can’t even respond but that is the price I pay for being a blogger. I open my story up to others, I have to take the criticism with the flattery but I will not stand silently for someone using plagiarism to twist my story into something that supports the slow suicide of many of today’s teens.

My blog paints a family portrait, giving only a brief synopsis of what is going on in my life. I share because, for me, writing is catharsis. This is how I process all the madness without needing an asylum. You know that moment when you are so engaged in the moment that you write completely with your heart, no thought or censor needed? Those are the best posts because connections are made with your readers but they are also the posts that plagiarist prey upon.. Readers are smart, they can usually see through all the rainbows and sunshine in a heartbeat. They are not falling for the smoke up their asses. It might feel warm and fuzzy in the beginning but soon, it’s just saccharin and sticky and who wants that? So, I tell the truth like many of you do. Then something really fucked up happens and it makes me reconsider everything.

Plagiarism in the wrong hands can do a lot of damage

I can’t talk vaguely about this because it makes no sense so I will be completely honest without linking to these idiots. Most of you are very aware that I have struggled with eating disorders in my past. I am now an advocate for healthy living and I share my story, embarrassing as it may be to me, to help others know they are not alone and that recovery may be ongoing but it is possible. The other day I wrote a post about body dysmorphic disorder and then I found it on a ProAna site. For those of you who are unaware, ProAna is Pro Anorexic. It is a site that says that it doesn’t encourage eating disorders but believe me, they do. They have the live and let die stance on anorexia. They are a resource for those who need a support forum to kill themselves with eating disorders. It’s a group who understands and embraces the anorexic and her disorder. They my not chant “Starve, starve, starve” but they certainly tell you how to do it, how to hide it and rationalize it. These sites disgust me and I think they should be outlawed.

So, when they took my post about my own story of living with body dysmorphic disorder and plagiarized it on their site, I can only believe they are using it as a tool to advocate for anorexia to cure unsatisfactory feelings about their bodies. A site like this would not be using it as a tool to deter women from eating disorders. They just don’t do that. The thought that any of my writing could contribute to another another girl going down this path completely makes me sick.

This weeks throat punch most definitely goes to the ProAna site that used my post about living with Body Dysmorphic disorder and twisted into a tool to convince others that eating disorders are justified.Don’t worry, I got legal involved unfortunately, these shiesty fuckers have comments closed and are very sneaky. It’s not exactly the sort of site that you want to put your name all over, if you know what I mean? Bastards! Be warned there are worse things that plagiarist can do than JUST steal your content, they can twist your words into a weapon to hurt others.

What is the time your words have been taken out of context or twisted into something else and used in a way that you never meant it to be? Have you been the victim of plagiarism?

Plagiarism can do harm you never even considered

photo credit: Rega Photography via photopin cc

2012/10/18 6 comments

national pregnancy and infant loss awareness month, miscarriage, loss

Confessions

Some Things Change You Forever

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/15

written by Deborah Cruz

It was a sunny Monday morning. I had just dropped my 4 year-old off at preschool. I had approximately 2 hours to get to my OBs office and have her check me and tell me nothing was wrong. As I lay there alone on the cold, hard table in the ultrasound room, I expected nothing to be wrong. I had some spotting, as I had with both of my previous pregnancies. Both times previously, everything was fine. I had overreacted. I was 10 weeks and 4 days pregnant with our third child. I just needed the ultrasound and the confirmation that everything was okay and I could continue on with my full day of errands. I wasn’t scared at all. That’s why my husband wasn’t with me. I was wrong.

The ultrasound tech made idle chit chat, apologizing for the wand of the vaginal ultrasound and any pressure that I might be feeling. Then her face went white. I knew. But it had to be a mistake. She continued on in silence. Then the words came, as if in slow motion from across the world, “I’m so sorry, I can’t find your baby’s heartbeat.”

I was in shock. All I could think was, she must have done something wrong. There is a heartbeat; she just doesn’t know what she is doing. I lay there for a couple more minutes, paralyzed and horrified. Embarrassed and humiliated, I wanted to disappear. I wanted to die. I wanted to be dead with no heartbeat, just like my baby inside me. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t cry.

I was interrupted from my internal psychotic break by the ultrasound tech taking my hand softly and telling me, once again, how very sorry she was for my loss and that she would take me downstairs to see my obstetrician “the back way”. I know it was so I wouldn’t have to walk through the waiting room filled with beautiful round bellies full of life. I knew. But it felt like, I was being taken down the back stairs because I was not worthy.

My body had failed my baby and me. There was malfunction and all I could do was take one step at a time and try not falling to the ground and crying forever. It felt surreal like I was watching this happen to someone else. I was outside of my body as I found myself in the Ob waiting room downstairs, not sure if I should politely smile or cry at the other expecting mothers. I was jealous. I was pissed. I was hurt. I felt like my initial reaction of surprise to this pregnancy had somehow made me unworthy to hold my baby. I could not speak. I saw my doctor. She explained the situation. I could barely hear her through my own thoughts. My head was so congested from holding in my pain. I was afraid to open mouth because all of the emotion would come pouring out and drown us all.

I was physically aching. My legs were shaking, my mind was racing, my head was spinning and I was alone; more alone than I have ever been in my life. I needed to hear my husband’s voice. He had to be told. I was the only one who could make that call. He knew I was at the doctor’s office. We’d been here before. We worried for nothing. It was always fine. Not this time.

I dialed the number through my blurry vision, I heard his jovial voice on the other end, “How’s our baby?” I was silent. “Is everything ok?” his concern was palpable. I started to speak, but it didn’t sound like me. It couldn’t be me speaking those words. I opened my mouth and the words came out like a death sentence, “ We had a M…………” and then I began to sob in an uncontrollable and animalistic way in which I have never experienced before. I could not finish the word. It was choking me. I could not say it out loud because then it would be real and then my baby would be dead. The promise of our baby would be broken. Life would be different. I would be different. It would all be less. I would never get to hold my baby in my arms because my baby was gone.

How do you survive a miscarriage? You don’t. You are changed forever. On the day that you lose a child, you lose part of who you were and become someone new; different. Your destiny is changed. You will never be the same. Eventually, you learn to breathe again, you get up of the floor, you stop crying and you somehow carry on.

I wrote this in August on Scary Mommy but today is the day that I share exactly what happened on the hardest day of my life. Our babies who have gone on to heaven may not be here in our arms but they are always in our hearts. During National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, please remember what we can never forget.

photo credit: Jason A. Samfield via photopin cc

2012/10/15 27 comments

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness, miscarriage, loss

Confessions

Some Things Truly Do Change You Forever

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/15

written by Deborah Cruz

Today is October 1st, the first day of National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Today also marks 5 months since we lost our baby. It’s been 5 months since my miscarriage. It’s the anniversary of the worst day of my life.

This was the first time we ever saw our third baby

We had already been blessed with two beautiful children and I was waiting for the day that the little heart beating blip would turn into a goo covered bundle being laid on my chest. I looked forward to it. My brain ran wild with thoughts of my girls playing with their newborn brother or sister, fawning over his every breath and cry and whimper. I could already see Bella mothering him and sitting by my side as I nursed him begging me to hold him. Gabi would be over the moon. All she’s ever wanted was to big be a big sister. She would have adored that baby like you couldn’t imagine and the Big Guy, he would have fallen so deeply in love with that baby that he would have been his forever, just like he has done with each of our babies. I wanted that baby so much, for so many reasons.

In the past five months, my heart has broken a million different times at the most random occasions but lately it’s gotten harder. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I keep bumping into women at school, at church, in the store who are pregnant and look to be as far along as I should be. Every time I see one, my heart is reminded of what will never be and it hurts. I know that I am not the first one to suffer this devastating loss and I know that those around me don’t feel this gaping hole that is where my heart used to be but I do.

My girls have moved on from asking about our baby in heaven and the Big Guy never talks about it but he listens when I need to. He knows that the first day of every month, I’m not myself and a little part of me wants to crawl into bed and die just like I did on the day that I found out. I am not purposely lingering in my loss but it’s always there. It haunts me. I think it might always haunt me. I will never forget, any of it. My miscarriage changed me forever, I know that now.

I am past the anger of my miscarriage now, on most days. Now, it’s just a quiet lingering pain of loss. I am happy for those around me who are pregnant and having babies. I am excited at the prospect of my sisters and sisters-in-law and friends to tell me their joyous news. I can’t wait to hold them close and kiss their tiny foreheads but still I am sorry that I will never get to hold my third baby. I will miss that. I am sad knowing that just for a little while I had a little miracle living inside me that I will never get to meet.So today, on the first day of the month and the first day of National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, I sit here looking at the ultrasound photos and sob for my beautiful baby in heaven.

***********************************************************************************************************************************

I first shared this post on my friend, Jill’s site Scary Mommy on August 23,2012. She gave me a place to share the events of that day when I was too afraid to share it here. I didn’t want to be that mom who couldn’t stop talking about this one moment but I feel that today is the perfect time to share the details of that day. I can’t promise I won’t talk about it again. I have a feeling that my due date is going to be a pretty painful day for me. Thank you for all of your support and love.

For National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I am sharing my story with you

It was a sunny Monday morning. I had just dropped my 4 year-old off at preschool. I had approximately 2 hours to get to my OBs office and have her check me and tell me nothing was wrong. As I lay there alone on the cold, hard table in the ultrasound room, I expected nothing to be wrong. I had some spotting, as I had with both of my previous pregnancies. Both times previously, everything was fine. I had overreacted. I was 10 weeks and 4 days pregnant with our third child. I just needed the ultrasound and the confirmation that everything was okay and I could continue on with my full day of errands. I wasn’t scared at all. That’s why my husband wasn’t with me. I was wrong.
The ultrasound tech made idle chit chat, apologizing for the wand of the vaginal ultrasound and any pressure that I might be feeling. Then her face went white. I knew. But it had to be a mistake. She continued on in silence. Then the words came, as if in slow motion from across the world, “I’m so sorry, I can’t find your baby’s heartbeat.”
I was in shock. All I could think was, she must have done something wrong. There is a heartbeat; she just doesn’t know what she is doing. I lay there for a couple more minutes, paralyzed and horrified. Embarrassed and humiliated, I wanted to disappear. I wanted to die. I wanted to be dead with no heartbeat, just like my baby inside me. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t cry.
I was interrupted from my internal psychotic break by the ultrasound tech taking my hand softly and telling me, once again, how very sorry she was for my loss and that she would take me downstairs to see my obstetrician “the back way”. I know it was so I wouldn’t have to walk through the waiting room filled with beautiful round bellies full of life. I knew. But it felt like, I was being taken down the back stairs because I was not worthy.
My body had failed my baby and me. There was malfunction and all I could do was take one step at a time and try not falling to the ground and crying forever. It felt surreal like I was watching this happen to someone else. I was outside of my body as I found myself in the Ob waiting room downstairs, not sure if I should politely smile or cry at the other expecting mothers. I was jealous. I was pissed. I was hurt. I felt like my initial reaction of surprise to this pregnancy had somehow made me unworthy to hold my baby. I could not speak. I saw my doctor. She explained the situation. I could barely hear her through my own thoughts. My head was so congested from holding in my pain. I was afraid to open mouth because all of the emotion would come pouring out and drown us all.
I was physically aching. My legs were shaking, my mind was racing, my head was spinning and I was alone; more alone than I have ever been in my life. I needed to hear my husband’s voice. He had to be told. I was the only one who could make that call. He knew I was at the doctor’s office. We’d been here before. We worried for nothing. It was always fine. Not this time.
I dialed the number through my blurry vision, I heard his jovial voice on the other end, “How’s our baby?” I was silent. “Is everything ok?” his concern was palpable. I started to speak, but it didn’t sound like me. It couldn’t be me speaking those words. I opened my mouth and the words came out like a death sentence, “ We had a M…………” and then I began to sob in an uncontrollable and animalistic way in which I have never experienced before. I could not finish the word. It was choking me. I could not say it out loud because then it would be real and then my baby would be dead. The promise of our baby would be broken. Life would be different. I would be different. It would all be less. I would never get to hold my baby in my arms because my baby was gone.
How do you survive a miscarriage? You don’t. You are changed forever. On the day that you lose a child, you lose part of who you were and become someone new; different. Your destiny is changed. You will never be the same. Eventually, you learn to breathe again, you get up of the floor, you stop crying and you somehow carry on.

Our babies who have gone on to heaven may not be here in our arms but they are always in our hearts. During National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, please remember what we can never forget.

October, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

2012/10/15 11 comments

Miscarriage Parenting

There are Angels Among Us

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/15

written by Deborah Cruz

Sometimes something unexpected happens, when you least expect it. Awhile back, my dear friend, Jessica Watson, asked me to join in on a pregnancy and infant loss memorial. I was happy to join in but when it came time to contribute my photo of me holding the last ultrasound of the baby that we lost, I just couldn’t do it. I’m still muddling through the muddy waters of loss and just when I think I may be getting to a point where I am less affected by our loss, I’m slapped upside my head with the realization that it’s still actually a gaping wound on my heart. But this is not about that open wound, this is about the amazing women who have held my hand, cradled my heart and come to my rescue. There are angels among us.

I’ve known these women for quite some time. Mostly we know one another through our blogs and social media. We’ve never met in person. I’ve never had the honor of hugging them or thanking them for what they have done for me. They are beautiful, humble and genuine to the core. We are connected, some through our shared wound and some who just have hearts so big that they completely envelope you when you are in animalistic pain and they soothe your soul with their kindness and caring.

They don’t know me. Not really. I am practically a stranger by most standards but it didn’t matter. They are not restricted by time and space, they are angels. What have they done, you ask? They are the type of women who see past what you are saying and see what you are feeling. When I had my miscarriage, so many wonderful friends online and in real life, sent me condolences and cried for my loss. They shared their stories and they eased me gently back into the world of the living when all I wanted to do was curl up and disappear. You can’t imagine how badly I wanted to just disappear from existence. I just felt like part of me had died on that day.

But these women have never forgotten. They check on me periodically, ask how I am doing and genuinely care what my response is. Erin (@ErinMargolin) is my first angel. This lady has done so much on so many different occasions that I will never be able to repay her kindness to me. There have been cards to make me smile when I thought I never would again.We may have never met but make no mistake, she is my sister. She is truly one of the most amazing human beings that I have ever known. You all know I don’t gush, so you realize that she must really be someone special and I am sure if you know her, you know this already. She is just a really great person. I don’t know how else to explain it. She is the standard by which all people should hold themselves to. @mommaKiss sent me a card, in the mail and to my house. I know it sounds like such a simple thing but for someone to take the time to choose a card, sign it and mail it is a big deal these days. It meant so much to me and it made me feel connected when I felt disjointed from the world. Jessica (@JessBWatson) this dear and beautiful soul, who deals daily with the pain of her own loss, made time in her life to check on my during mine and , more importantly, to check on me still. She knows the lingering pain of loss. Sunday night, she participated in a lantern launch in memorial for our babies in heaven and I had no idea that she was going to include me until I received a photo via tweet of the lantern this sweet woman launched in memory of our baby that we lost before we ever got to hold. This small gesture has renewed my faith in humanity. It meant more to me than words can ever convey.

Believe me when I tell you that my online friends are real and there are angels among us.

Photo Courtesy of Jessica Watson/ Four Plus an Angel

2012/10/15 0 comment

Mitt Romney, Anne Romney, Paul RYan, GOP, Republican, presidential candidate

Politics Throat Punch Thursday

Throat Punch Thursday ~ Mitt Romney Versus Women’s Rights Edition

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/11

written by Deborah Cruz

Mitt Romney, Could this be our next President?

Mitt Romney where exactly do you fall on the topic of abortion? We know where you stand on the Obamacare tax but other positions you take are not so clear. It doesn’t seem that we can get a straight answer from you. You are pro-life except for when you are not and you are pro-choice except for when it’s inconvenient. You are not going to change anything except for everything in respects to women and our bodies. You, sir, make me afraid to be a woman in your United States.

This is not personal, this is politics and common sense. You seem like a likable enough guy. I’m sure that you may be a wonderful father, husband, friend and business man. You may be all that and more but you are not one of us; your female constituents. You have been lucky enough to not ever have to be one of the have nots in any aspect. That’s not a crime, it’s a blessing but it makes you out of touch with the average American people; the people of who you are supposed to be of and for and that frightens me to live in your United States of America.

This latest article has me more concerned than ever about the state of our country if Mitt Romney is elected president.

2012/10/11 10 comments

Confessions

I was Almost Miss Teen America

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/09

written by Deborah Cruz

Only the Awesome can be Miss Teen

What the hell does Miss Teen America have to do with anything? I’m not revealing another diagnosis, eating disorder, deep dark secret from my childhood or a life altering loss. In the last year, I’ve revealed so much of myself to you all that I’m pretty sure that you all are searching for the world’s smallest violin to play me a song. Recently, I even got the “Aww, You have been through a lot in your life” comment and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I laughed.

2012/10/09 5 comments

cochlear, living with hearing loss, hearing loss, disabilities,mom myth, my kids perfect

Mommy Truisms

Mom Myth #1 Exposed

by Deborah Cruz 2012/10/02

written by Deborah Cruz

Mom Myth that we all want to Believe

Mom Myth #1 ~ My Kids are perfect. No they are not. None of our children are perfect. It is a mom myth.You know some bullshit that other mothers perpetuate so that we are not on to them and know that they are struggling with this mothering gig just as mush as the rest of us. They are. Just pay attention; if you look hard enough, there is spit up on her Kate Spade blouse ( why else do you think she is wearing that crazy print?), she may not be wearing yoga pants but look closely, there is spandex in them there jeans or they may even be designer maternity. Sure that loose falling pony is the sexy in thing, but hers was not on purpose the baby was pulling on it this morning and those stunna shades..OMG, that is the universal code for Mommy didn’t get any sleep last night. Of course, we all want to appear to have all of our Mommy shit together. That is why these mom myths exist at all. We think by pretending that our kids are perfect, that makes us perfect mothers. Logically, if they are winners, we are not losers. There is no such thing as a perfect mother and if there is, that bitch is riding a unicorn high as a kite in a tornado.

We need a support group to support one another, not a panel of Judgy McTired Mamas to point out all of our flaws while desperately trying to hide her own. Let’s call it the We’re not perfect, just human’s doing our best club. Who wants to be the newest member? I am the founder and president.

I’ll go first, My name is Debi and my kids are not perfect, that’s a mom myth and I rebuke it.

I am an official Mom Myth buster.

There is an invisible hump located somewhere between the ages of 5 and 7 and the divide is great. As many of you are aware, I have two wonderful little girls, Bella, who is 7 and Gabi, who is 5. They are wonderful, amazing and bright and all that other rainbows and sunshine shit that parents are supposed to say about their children but lately they are becoming increasingly more and more of a pain in my ass. I believe they are wonderful and beautiful because they are mine and I see all they do through Mommy goggles but I also get the privilege and the only right to know and call them out as being assholes on occasion.Yes, I said it, my kids are a pain in my ass.

I know that it’s not politically correct to say that and damn it, I still love them with all the fierceness of a mama bear in drag but it had to be said. They are not perfect, neither am I, they have an asshole streak in them the size of Texas and I just don’t have the patience I need to deal with it on some days. Yes, I am perfectly aware that assholery and asshatery are both genetic and they have probably inherited it from their father or myself, or probably from both. I blame the Big Guy.

This is what has happened. Bella,the 7 year-old, has decided to never tell a lie… to her sister….unless it suits her situation. To the rest of us at home, she has become a down right exaggerating guru. This kid is the Pecos Bill of our house. She doesn’t necessarily lie so much as stretch the truth. I do not like lies. I loathe them and despise liars. It’s a trust thing and if I can’t believe what you say, your word means nothing and that just doesn’t work for me. I can’t have kids who think lying is ok. It’s not. We are working on it. She’s getting better at differentiating between what is real and what is not. She’s on the path of the straight and narrow now, especially when it is most inconvenient.

All that being said, Bella is at the age of reason. Damn you reason. Her little sister is still in that wide-eyed, life is magical phase. Bella and her new found honesty has been a real buzz kill lately.You know those little white lies that we all tell our children, ” oh yes, honey, that is the most beautiful elephant mommy has ever seen drawn!” when what it really looks like is a Picasso and it’s anybody;s guess what it might truly be. It’s all eyeballs and assholes. Well, Bella will come in right behind me and say something like this, ” Ugghh, Gabs, I can’t really even tell what that is!” Sometimes the truth is a little mean and sometimes my kids are pains in the ass and all the time, I love them so damn much that I just don’t care. I don’t need to adhere to some mom myth, I just need to love my children unconditionally…. and pray that Bella figures out that sometimes you can be generous with the truth to spare people’s feelings but I can’t explain that to a 7-year-old.

Do you perpetuate the mom myth or do you simply do your best and not worry about what other people think of your parenting?

Mom Myth #1 Busted Wide Open

photo credit: ^riza^ via photopin cc

2012/10/02 3 comments

Parenting

Life is What Happens when You’re Busy & Not Paying Attention

by Deborah Cruz 2012/09/29

written by Deborah Cruz

Mommy Brain~ condition that makes everything foggy, forgotten and questionable if it’s really happening, supposed to be happening, or already happened?

I’d bet my reminder list that most of us are in the throes of it at this very moment. Me, I am on the verge of a full-blown case of sundowners of the Mommy Kind. I’m not exaggerating when I say that if it weren’t for my head being attached, I’d have misplaced it by now.

On a cold day in January, I had an OB/GYN check up and was at that point in my pregnancy where I couldn’t see my feet but there was no way I was going in without a little landscaping down below. I refused to look like I had a chia pet in a headlock.

I stepped into the shower and tried to lift my belly out of the way, to get a lay of the land. Impossible. I had to feel my way making a mental note, as I went; Scratch. Bump. Crease. Opening. Labia. Clitoris. Baby! Oops. After much panting, praying and contorting, I started the impossible task. This was a dangerous endeavor. I’m no Helen Keller. I’d never done this before. There was a huge chance that some very important bits could be permanently severed and left behind to circle the drain. That thing’s attached for a reason. It may look like it’s coming detached but damn it, it’s not.

An hour later, I grabbed the mirror and what was revealed to me was patchy with tufts of what looked like tiny Fu Manchu’s scattered all throughout my groin region. Tiny Fu Manchu’s that you might see on a little person Kung Fu Master with a bad attitude and one eye. Back to the freezing shower I went.

My plan was simple; to walk into that appointment, drop trough, and show my handsome OB/GYN the most impressively landscaped vagina he’d ever seen on a woman. But why stop at just pretty? I grabbed the feminine hygiene spray and after a quick once over, I was not only impeccably groomed but also smelled like a beautiful summer’s day.

After the exam, my doctor looked up and said, “Everything looks great and (with a knowing smile and a wink) very festive.” I was an over cooked, over stuffed, waddling pregnant woman with no time to decipher Dr.Hottie’s riddle. I had no idea what he was talking about. At home after a quick look in the mirror, to my horror and surprise, what I thought was feminine hygiene spray was actually my 2-year-olds Christmas themed Barbie spray. My hairless Chihuahua was now covered with green sparkly glitter spray. Festive, indeed.

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This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of The LIFE Foundation. The opinions and text are all mine. Official Contest Rules

**This post was first published here.

2012/09/29 0 comment

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