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Parenting

Parenting is nothing you expected and everything you could have imagined all rolled into one. I have been spit up on, pooped on, vomited on all before 7 a.m. in the newborn years. I’ve watched my toddler shove a pearl up her nose and poop in her mouth, and I’ve even masticated food. Not as fun as it sounds. I’ve survived breast buds and the sex talk. I share everything I ever learned and you might want to know about parenting from pregnancy to labor thru to the teens years.  It’s is hard but it’s the toughest job that you’ll ever love but the salary sucks.

Holidays, Disney, family traditions, Pete's Dragon

Disclosure: This post is brought to you by Disney. All opinions are my own.

Can you believe the holidays are right around the corner? My family is super busy and it seems like the older they get, the busier we get and the faster it all goes by. I remember that first year of motherhood and it felt like we were living in molasses. Everything took forever. I never thought my daughter would roll over and when she did, it felt like years before she crawled and jeez, it was only 10 months, but it felt like ions before she walked. Don’t even get me started on potty training. But now, I just want all the moments and milestones to slow down.

I battle the urge to freeze time between loving their new-found independence and wanting to drop down to the floor and crawl into the fetal position and tantrum until they just stop growing up. I know, when I say it out loud, I sounds quite crazy but I assure you, this is motherhood.

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I can’t stop time. Try as I may and, believe me, I do. I’ve realized that I just have to make the most of every single moment we have together. I have to suck the marrow out of motherhood, not unlike the soul sucking task of potty training, I will not go quietly into that good night of parenting. This is why I make a point of finding the special moments in the everyday and I try, though often forget, to remember to breathe in and inhale all of these tiny amazing and devastating moments that make up a life.

One of our favorite holiday traditions is spending time together watching family movies, usually something Disney because we’re all hopeless Disney fanatics. Honestly, it’s something we enjoy all year round but at the holidays it’s just a little more special because there are days off school, snow, hot cider, long days in matching pajamas (yep, we’re that family) and blanket forts involved. It’s magical.

One thing we really love to do together is putting on those crazy matching onesie pajamas (oh yes, did I forget to mention that they are onesies?) and decorate the house for the holidays. The fireplace is usually going, snack mix is in the oven and we are generally behaving goofy but then, we put a movie on and we’re transported, as a family, someplace else. It really is the cheapest vacation ever.

The matching holiday pajamas have been ordered and are on the way (I’ll share those later) so now the only thing left to do is count down the days and settle on a movie that we’ll all love. And just like that, one of my childhood favorites, Pete’s Dragon, got a reboot this year and is available to buy now! Just in time for our holiday break, family fun time.

Nothing like a family friendly adventure story about a boy and his pet dragon to not only ignite the imagination but warm the heart. But it’s more than that. It’s about finding your family, the people who love you, and about friendship, in all of its forms. It’s a beautiful story and I can’t wait to watch it this holiday season as we celebrate our family and make more memories together.

Actually, it’s the best feeling in the world because we are always on the move. These little quiet moments, with just the four of us, are far and few between but mostly they are priceless because we know it won’t be like this for long. One day, our little girls, the two tiny creatures who took forever to grow in that first year, will be living someplace else with their very own families and we will miss them desperately. That’s what I remind myself of every time I want to hurry their childhood up.

Every time I forget to move the elves or put a coin under their pillow from the tooth fairy, every time I grow weary from, what seems like endless ballet classes, violin and choir concerts, Nutcracker performances, junior high football games to support my cheerleaders, or kissing boo-boos and blisters from gymnastics I tell myself that these are the moments; the best moments of life.

Pete's Dragon, family traditions, holiday, Disney

Planning to watch Pete’s Dragon with your family this year? Disney Movie Rewards has a special promotion – when you purchase the film through DMR you can also purchase the ‘Elliot Gets Lost’ children’s book from the film at an exclusive price of $9.99 when you buy Pete’s Dragon on Blu-ray, Digital HD and Disney Movies Anywhere on Disney Movie Rewards!

You can find out more information about Pete’s Dragon on the following social media channels.

Facebook Pete’s Dragon: https://www.facebook.com/DisneyPetesDragon

Twitter @DisneyPetes: https://twitter.com/disneypetes

Instagram @DisneyPetes: https://instagram.com/disneypetes

What’s your favorite family tradition that you look forward to this holiday season?

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Gilmore Girls, Raising Girls, Netflix, StreamTeam

In 2000, I was newly married and everything in life was ahead of me. I stumbled onto the show Gilmore Girls and I fell in love at first show. You see, I never had a great relationship with my own mom. There was nothing wrong with our relationship; other than we are complete opposites but I love my mom but we were never “friends”. My best friend in college had that kind of relationship with her mom and I was always envious because who wouldn’t want their mom to be their best friend. Gilmore Girls was a wonderful representation of what I dreamed of having with my mom and exactly the kind of relationship I hoped to someday have with my own daughters but it was all hypothetical.

Fast forward five years and I had my own little girl. I remember watching the opening credits of Gilmore Girls rolling with Carole King singing Where You Lead in the background and my toddler dancing to the music and my heart filled with so much love that it nearly burst because it was everything I felt for my daughter. To this day, every single time I hear that song, I smile because I think of that great, big love that I have for my girls; the unbreakable love and sisterhood that you can only be felt between a certain kind of relationship between a mother and daughter. It’s the kind of relationship I have with my girls.

Gilmore Girls, Raising Girls, Netflix, StreamTeam

Fast forward, 11 years and here I sit Thanksgiving weekend watching Gilmore Girls; A Year in the Life with my two daughters and all I can feel is blessed. When I first watched the show, the relationship between Lorelai and Rory was something I wished for but never had and now, it is something I have times two. I know not every mother and daughter have that symbiotic, complete each other’s sentences and thoughts, talk in circles; six degrees of separation logic understanding but we do and it is even more special than I ever imagined.

Gilmore Girls, Raising Girls, Netflix, StreamTeam

I know that the show was a writer’s creation but the relationship, there had to be some foundation in reality to actually “get it” so dead on. It exists.

Spoiler alert; If you haven’t already seen it and don’t want any spoilers, stop reading now.

I love the way the story picks up a decade or so later. It gave us time to see growth in the characters. It gave Lorelai and Luke time to figure stuff out, it gave Rory wings to fly and get some distance and become her own woman and it gave all the characters time to expand and contract; become three-dimensional, not simply two-dimensional caricatures of reality. Sometimes life is hard and sometimes things don’t work out the way you planned and sometimes your person can’t fix all of it. Bad things happen to good people and life is complicated and messy and it can’t all be wrapped up fully in a nice bow in an hour-long episode; only if it were.

Gilmore Girls, Raising Girls, Netflix, StreamTeam

Relationships are work and sometimes people have to get hurt to learn their lessons. That is life and we don’t always make the right choices. Sometimes we follow our hearts and it leads us down a path of reckless abandonment and, while it might be the greatest adventure of our life, it just isn’t realistically feasible to sustain long-term. Sometimes we have to let go before we’re ready. Sometimes we have to fight for what we want and sometimes life throws us so many curveballs that we just don’t know which way is up but in the end, life works out even if it’s not the way we planned because that is what living is all about; the experiences…the journey. It’s all our journey.

Gilmore Girls, Raising Girls, Netflix, StreamTeam

Gilmore Girls; A Year in the Life was unexpected for me. Things didn’t go as planned but I loved seeing the progression. It’s like going home and catching up with all the people you grew up with. Most of the time, the reality is very different from what any of you imagined it would be but it’s okay and it’s just nice to have those people who you knew when. I loved watching it with my own Rorys (wrapped up together in a soft blanket as we ate pop tart biscotti and Red Vines) and I loved the messy way it all turned out because, in life, there is seldom a direct path from point A to Point B but you can get there a million different ways.

Gilmore Girls, Raising Girls, Netflix, StreamTeam

I don’t know what Netflix plans to do but I would love to see more of the Gilmore Girls and see how their messy wonderful story turns out. It ended in a way that the reboot almost felt like it could be a repeat. Things were similar but at the same time, completely different and unfamiliar. Nothing was as we expected and at the same time, it was exactly as we left it. I don’t want to spoil anything for my fellow Gilmore Girls fans so I will leave you with this; if you loved the original Gilmore Girls franchise, you should watch A Year in the Life with an open mind and an open heart and remember that the good parts of life are seldom planned and all the real living happens when your plans go out the window.

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grief,loss, parenting, miscarriage

Last night, I dreamt about a baby. A tiny, baby boy who perched his little bobbling head atop my shoulder right in that perfect cradle made just for babies between my collar bone and my ear. Then his tiny head would wobble and bob and little lips would fall on my flesh like kisses from heaven.

I woke up this morning feeling happy with my visitation from the sweet baby boy in my dreams. Then, I realized that it’s November 24th and it wasn’t just any baby, it was our baby. The one who should be turning 4-years-old today. Instead of celebrating together, I’ll be choking down tears and turkey while he (that pregnancy just felt completely different than either pregnancy with my girls so I assume it was a boy), my sweet Declan Wayne (that would have been his name…in my heart it already was) will be missing from our table and our lives.

It’s been 4 years and I still can’t feel the loss any less. Only now, it seems my sadness is turning to bitterness and anger. It took 4 years but all I keep asking God is why? Why did you take my baby? Why must I survive this?

There are so many unwanted pregnancies and babies, so many children born into families where they are mistreated and unloved and all we wanted to do was love our baby. All I wanted to do was hold him in my arms, even just once. It wouldn’t have been enough but it would have given me closure. Instead, I live my life like an open wound that never closes; vulnerable to all of existence. I need some kind of closure, some tangible marking that you were here, so I am writing you this letter.

Dear Declan,

I wish you were here. More than anything in this world, I wish that I could hold you in my arms and feel your little heart beat against mine. I wish I could see your sisters love on you and fawn over you like big sisters do. I wish I could see the pride in your dad’s eyes when you two connected over something boys do. I wish there was a little Big Guy in the world.

I wish you were here to have booboos kissed and tears wiped. I wish you were here to smile lovingly at your sisters when they had a long day at ballet or a hard day at school. I wish you were here to make us smile and giggle as only little boys can do. I wish you were here for me to see grow up.

I wish you were here to love because you see each time I got pregnant, I fell deep in love and my heart grew to accommodate that enormous love. Only now, who am I supposed to give all that extra love to? You made me better before you were ever here.

I won’t talk about the day I lost you or how my entire world crashed down on me. I won’t talk about how all I wanted to do was be with you, to stay with you forever because if I do, I’ll start to cry. I’ll never forget you, my sweet boy, and you will always be in my heart. That’s where I carry you. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say it once more and every single day for the rest of my life, I wish you were here.

Forever yours, Mommy

I know it’s Thanksgiving and I am thankful for all that I have but it’s also what should have been the 4th birthday of the baby that I’ll never get to hold. So while I am thankful for all that I have, including those few short precious months of pregnancy with my third baby, I am still sad beyond belief that I will never get to celebrate his life with cake and ice cream surrounded by family and friends.

I will never see him play soccer or go to prom, get married and have children of his own and every November 24th, I will be just a little melancholy around the edges knowing that one child is missing from our table and from our life. I don’t think that sad emptiness ever goes away and to tell the truth, I’m not sure that I want it to because it is the one reminder that I have that he was ever here.

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equality, Raising girls, how to raise brave women

As many of you know, I don’t often have posts written by guest writers but when I do, they are usually amazing writers with something important to say. Today, I have the privilege of sharing with you one of my dearest friends, Amanda Magee, who just happens to be one of the strongest, bravest, samrtest and kindest women I know. She also happens to be a damn great writer. She is a writer’s writer. Did I mention she is raising three amazing girls who I am sure will be the change they want to see in the world because that is exactly what their mom is exemplifying for them? Thank you, Amanda, for sharing your words and truth here. If you’d like to read more of Amanda, be sure to check her out on her blog.

A quick introduction, my name is Amanda Magee. I live in upstate New York where I own an advertising and communications agency and am raising three daughters. Deborah and I met by chance at a blogging conference a few years back. Over the years we have bonded over parenting daughters and being strong willed women in the world. She has invited me to write here a couple of times and despite my not having come through, she kept asking; the last time after I posted about our experience marching at an Anti-Trump rally with our daughters. I am so grateful for hearts, minds, and voices like Deborah’s.

A couple of years ago I found myself thinking that I knew how to forecast the years ahead. I bought into the idea that hormones were going to be the thing I had to focus on, but it wasn’t true. Yes, there are emotional highs and lows; yes, my three daughters are not yet in the thick of puberty at 8, 10, and 12, but what has become central to our reality is how we will navigate the world—not during our menstrual cycles, more in light of the fact that we (will) have menstrual cycles.

How do I raise brave women? How do I equip them with both confidence and suspicion? Is it possible to raise them to be good citizens and compassionate human beings in the same breath as I say that there are people who will break rules and take without asking? How do I tell them that they can make all the best decisions and still be hurt?

Raising girls, how to raise brave women, equality

Zits and thigh gap? We’ll be fine, slurs muttered at the mention of homosexual family members and systemic defense and promotion of “boys will be boys” and “you shouldn’t be upset, he just wanted to talk to you,” those are the things that demand my attention.

Over the last year, I’ve begun to speak more plainly with my daughters and I’ll be honest, it’s been bittersweet. I wanted to give them the cocoon of childhood as long as I could, but when conversation on the bus turns to building a wall, grabbing pussies, and sending people away I have a choice, do I defer the world view shaping to other kids and influences or do I talk to them about the spectrum of views? I chose the latter.

Raising girls, how to raise brave women, equality

I’ve never once painted one side of politics as evil and the other as benevolent, because despite being a lifelong, pro-choice, feminist liberal, I don’t hate Republicans or Conservatives. The only thing I really hate is hate, which is why we were an anti-Trump house and why we are committed to continuing to speak up against the motions that take us as a country to greater stances of division. It’s new territory for me, because I have always looked at the person holding the office of president as our leader. I cannot do that this time.

Raising girls, how to raise brave women, equality

I am looking to people like Deborah, I am listening to black women, people from the trans community, I am questioning the decisions of lawmakers, and I am donating to organizations like Planned Parenthood and the Southern Poverty Law Center. We as a family are committing to being engaged at the local and regional level, not just every four years. We are reading books like Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls. I am heartbroken that so many people didn’t vote; I am distressed that many people, myself included, have had moments of silence that made them complicit in hate or systemic racism. We are choosing to adhere to a policy of living our beliefs out loud and in public, because the alternative is the kind of inaction that lets hate fester and threaten to overtake us all.

Photos Courtesy Amanda Magee

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This post was produced with support from Clean Air Moms Action. All opinions are, of course, my own.

The upcoming election has been dominated by divisive candidate issues. Believe me, many of us have lost friends and family because our politics simply cannot reconcile themselves but there’s one thing that we should all be able to agree on: harmful pollution, climate change, and toxic chemicals are putting our families at risk and it doesn’t have to be that way. Whether you’re a liberal or a conservative, every one of us lives on this planet and, I hope, everyone of us wants to take care of it so it’s still around for our children and our children’s children.

When I think about the future, I immediately think about my daughters. The future is not some obscure thing that will happen to me. Since becoming a mom, everything I do is directly in relation to how it will affect my children and that means I have no choice but to be the change. It’s my job to be their advocate, to make sure that they are healthy and happy and, for me, that means making sure that they have clean air to breathe.

A few weeks ago, the news reported that safe carbon levels in the earth’s atmosphere were a thing of the past. We officially passed the point of no return, 400 parts per million, where the earth’s climate was concerned. The low point of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere typically occurs around the last week of September but this year, levels failed to drop below 400 ppm.

Why’s that a big deal? The 400 ppm mark is considered the red line in the sand and crossing it poses dangerous climate ramifications. Right now we’re at 400 ppm, and we’re adding 2 ppm of carbon dioxide to the atmosphere every year. Unless we are able to change things and turn that around and return to below 350 ppm this century, we risk triggering tipping points and irreversible impacts that will send climate change spinning beyond our control. It will be catastrophic.

To reverse the damage and do some Superman/ Wonder Woman like planet saving, here are three areas we need to focus our attention towards.

CLEAN AIR. Air pollution from fossil fuels leads to bad air quality in too many communities. Increases in smog can trigger asthma attacks and exacerbate other chronic health problems. Do not let your child’s health be voted away to protect polluters’ profits. Instead, VOTE to protect little lungs from toxic air pollution.

CLIMATE CHANGE. The same harmful pollution that is making our children sick is causing rising temperatures and extreme weather events. Our changing climate is making smog worse. It increases respiratory health threats, particularly for people with allergies and asthma. Also, intense heat waves exacerbate heart and lung conditions. VOTE for candidates who support proposals to cut methane emissions from the oil and gas industry. And vote to put our country on a clean energy path while protecting American jobs!

TOXIC CHEMICALS. Dangerous chemicals are found in our daily lives. They often enter our homes and bodies without our realizing it. In fact, these chemicals may not even have been disclosed, identified or studied. Thousands of toxic chemicals found in everyday products are linked to potential reproductive and developmental toxicity, endocrine disruption, birth defects, cancer, asthma, headaches and skin irritants. Children are among the most vulnerable to such chemicals.

It really hit home for me when my 9-year-old came to me with tears in her eyes and asked me, “Mommy will the air last long enough for me to grow up?” That broke my heart because while the answer is yes ( just), I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I have no idea what the air we breathe will be like for her children and grandchildren. I can’t make her any guarantees. We’ve ignored the warnings for far too long and now, it falls on our shoulders to literally save the planet for our children.

Clean Air Moms Action, moms, Presidential election 2016, Clean air act

Unfortunately, harmful pollution, climate change and toxic chemicals are putting our precious children at risk. It doesn’t have to be this way. It shouldn’t be this way. This doesn’t mean there’s no hope. We just need to collectively get involved, care and make changes. It starts with each one of us.

On election day your vote can elect candidates who care about these issues. If for nothing else, please vote as if your child’s health depends on it. Because it does. Take the pledge and commit yourself to voting for your child’s future.

This fall Clean Air Moms Action is traveling the country with a documentary film crew capturing the stories of parents who are fighting daily to protect their children’s health effects of exposure to oil & gas productions, high-tide flood waters, and ground water contamination from coal ash waste sites.

You can see more videos like this on the Clean Air Moms Action YouTube page

Please join me in working together to move clean energy forward in the US. by joining the fight to protect our children at cleanairmomsaction.org.

Next Tuesday, your vote will tell leaders that you care about protecting our children from the harmful effects of toxic air pollution. The same harmful pollution that is making our children sick is causing rising temperatures and extreme weather. It’s our job as parents to protect our babies and their futures.

Join me by voting. Research candidates with a good record on the environment and vote for them. Join the #CleanAirMomsVote selfie project. Print out the Because I Love sign, fill in the blank, and post it to social media with the hashtag #CleanAirMomsVote

Learn more on the Clean Air Moms Action website, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Follow the hashtag #CleanAirMomsVote

 

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bully, how to help your tween, tweens

Now that my daughter is getting older, I have found myself faced with the question of what to do when my tween gets bullied. It’s not like when they were toddlers. My daughters seem to be magnets for bullies. Despite being nice kids who are friendly with almost everyone (according to their teachers), they always seem to be the target of bullies. Now, I know we live in a world where parents like to overuse the term “bullying.” I don’t think I do but when you go single white female on my child and then harass her relentlessly when she just isn’t that into you, I think that constitutes being a bully, bordering on harassment and just a scoatch out of the stalker realm. Any way you slice it, you’re not being nice and I just don’t trust the situation.

My girls have had a bully almost every other year since preschool. I’ve taught my girls not to take it personally and to ignore these people. This is for my kid than the bully. I don’t want my daughters obsessing over what someone else thinks of them. Honestly, it’s irrelevant. I also don’t want my kid being teased, hurt and harassed because another kid doesn’t like something about them. Can’t we all just get along and move along.

I live in a reality based world. I don’t expect everyone to like everyone else. Sometimes it’s nothing more than non-compatible personalities. Hey, we’ve all known someone who we just don’t like based on fundamental personality differences and that’s okay. I don’t even want my girls to want or try to be liked by everyone because that just sets them up for a life of people pleasing and, pardon my French but, f*ck that.

This is how bullying usually goes. My kid starts acting weird. I ask them what’s going on. They don’t want to tell because they don’t want to tattle and they feel embarrassed that someone is picking on them, making fun of them or harassing them. I ask a few more times and finally, they end up breaking down and telling me.

I tell them to rise above it, ignore it and it’s not about them, it’s the fault of the bully. Bullies have low self-esteem and it manifests by them being mean to others to make themselves feel better. It’s a weak person’s way of leveling the playing field. Instead of rising to the occasion, bullies prefer to pull you down to their level. I also tell my children to tell me and they’ve done nothing wrong. Then, I handle it with the powers that be.

You see, in a world where kids plant bombs and go on shooting sprees, in a post-Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan world, I don’t believe in a “kids will be kids” do nothing parenting. I in no way fight my children’s battles but I also do not stand by and let my child feel like they are alone in the situation. I have no problem contact the school or wherever and keeping them abreast of the situation. Which brings us to this past weekend.

For a couple months, my daughter has been telling me that a girl at ballet doesn’t like her. Up until now, it’s been what I’ve perceived as a non-compatible personality situation. Petty things like bringing all the girls in class a piece of candy and purposely excluding just my daughter. Granted, it’s a shitty thing to do but it’s not “bullying” it’s just being a punk kid. I told my kid to ignore it and I bought her a bag of suckers and on the day she took them into ballet, I made sure she had enough for everyone. I thought let’s kill it with kindness. I’ve always taught my girls that you can’t control others reactions but you can control your own actions so put good into the world and if someone doesn’t return it then that is on them, not you. You do good, that’s all that you can do. Well, that didn’t help the situation at all.

Then, this particular little girl decided to try to befriend my daughter’s core group of friends. One-by-one she starting talking to them and trying to ingratiate herself into their lives by plying them with sweets and trinkets but her fatal flaw, as soon as they would talk to her, she would say something mean about my daughter and reveal herself to be the mean-spirited person she really was. Two of the girls were friendly to her in the way you are friendly to colleagues, which is essentially what they all are but she wanted more.

Still, she was calling my daughter prissy, annoying and saying that she talks too much. I mean, she is my daughter so she probably does talk a lot and prissy and annoying, well, that’s just that damn personality thing I was referring to. However, then it began to get weirder.  Her tactic of befriending was more of collecting friends to exclude my daughter. It was more about alienating my daughter than having friends.

These girls are all tweens ages 11 and 12-years-old. My daughter has a group of four “best friends” who talk every day and have sleepovers and genuinely care about one another, more than just like a colleague more like sisters. They are protective of one another but they are a good group of girls. They are not mean. They actually try to be very diplomatic, as much as you can be at that age.

So, a couple weeks ago, the bully decided that if I can’t steal the friends and exclude Bella (my daughter) they will all suffer my wrath. First, she started calling one of the little girls “fat” to the three other girls. I told my daughter that they should shut it down and tell the bully it wasn’t okay but not tell the girl who she was calling fat because it would only hurt her feeling and make her feel embarrassed. Let’s be honest, as a tween girl, being called fat can have some serious ramifications, especially if you’re a ballerina. 12-years-old is when my eating disorders were first triggered. Then, she told another one of the girls that my daughter was fat, which by the way she is not even close to being. This girl just knows that calling any girl fat, no matter her size especially in their industry, is a trigger.

She is not saying any of this to the actual girls she is talking about but rather telling one of the other girls in the group. It’s like she enjoys not only talking shit about one girl but torturing the other girls by putting them in this awkward position. All the while, she is trying to befriend each of the other girls, except for my friend. She eventually goes through the entire group calling them all names like fat, can’t dance, blackhearts, prissy, annoying, clumsy, untalented and talks too much. It’s all very superficial but it really hurts these girls’ feelings and in the end, it’s not about whether I think it is serious or not, it’s about how it’s making the girls feel and they feel terrible. It’s about the effect it has on the bullied child. Then the notes began.

Apparently, the girls sticking together only angered the bully and she decided to attack them in letters. It started two weeks ago. She stuck a note in my daughter’s ballet bag that read, “I don’t like talking to annoying, prissy people. Sorry, not my type.”  And she signed her name. My daughter didn’t even tell me. She crumpled it up and threw it into her bag. I guess my rise above it mantra is sticking.

Not getting the reaction she wanted from my daughter, she went on to one of her friends and wrote her a creepy single white female letter. Basically saying, your other three friends are shit and they called you shit when you weren’t here. Then she went on to say, let’s have a sleepover and exclude those girls. You need to become best friends with me, etcetera, etcetera. It was a very weird note but that’s the gist of it. Instead of taking the bait, the girl who was given the note shared the note with the other girls at a sleepover they had on Friday.

Instead of being mean back to her, the girls googled how to write a form letter and then must have ended up on some manager training site because they wrote a letter with the formula “for every bad thing you tell her to say something nice and always use empathy.” They brought me a copy of both letters because, as my husband says, the kids all know that you’re the mom who gets shit taken care of.

Super long story slightly shorter, I spoke with the principal and the director at the ballet on Saturday morning. They took it very seriously because the 4 girls also brought the original f the note the bully write and their reply for proof. You’d think they were going to court. I was assured by the ballet that it would be handled.

The girls as a whole at ballet were given a warning about behavior and etiquette and how this sort of petty behavior and bullying would not be tolerated. They were reminded that they are a company and are supposed to be tolerant and supportive of one another. However, the bully has an older sister who is friends with my daughter and her group of friends. She told her mom what her little sister had been up to and the mom handled her daughter, the bully. Did I mention this all happened on a performance day?

We all went home and thought it was handled. Until Sunday when one of the little girls was cleaning out her ballet bag and found a second note basically threatening my daughter and her group for getting her into trouble. She called them idiots and jerks and said she would get revenge at ballet and to have great lives in hell. Concluding with, I hate you. She wrote this note after she had been reprimanded by the ballet and her mother. So basically in the face of punishment she was angry enough to say to hell with the consequences.

I am dumbfounded. This has been going on, on and off, since last spring but has been slowly escalating. It’s to the point now, especially after the last note, that I don’t feel terribly comfortable with my child being around this child. I feel it’s getting to Tonya Harding levels of desperation.

What would you do if your tween gets bullied?

 

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love letter to my teen daughter, Bella, teen birthday

I never thought of the possible consequences of postponing motherhood but  lately, I’ve been missing that new baby smell. It’s crazy that I am saying this out loud because it feels a little like something I should be keeping to myself but what they hell, I figure when I go through these difficult times, I’m not usually the only one feeling this way. I can’t be the only one who has regretted not having more kids or wishing they’d started having babies earlier.

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racism, racism at school, students, Donald Trump

What do you do when your child comes home from school and tells you about all the blatant racism she experienced at school that day? Racism is nothing new but I’ve never had it directed so closely at my children. Wait, let me clarify, no one called my daughter a “Beaner”, “Wetback” or “Spic”; none of the common slurs you get when you are a little Mexican kid. No, my daughters, like myself, are very fair skinned and they actually look more Nordic than South American. They have blondish hair and blue eyes. Nothing about them screams, “I am Mexican hear me roar.” But they will tell you, in no uncertain terms, “Yo soy Mexicana, escuchame…..ROAR!!!!”

The thing is when you look Caucasian, people don’t worry about what they say around you. They think that you shouldn’t be offended because when they are insulting your culture and your race, they are not actually insulting “YOU” because to them, you are different (you get a pass) because you look the same as them. Let me tell you what, that’s even worse. Casual racism where you tell me that I shouldn’t be offended because you weren’t referring to “my kind of Mexican” is beyond insulting. People always expect Latinos to be “more Latino” or, in my case, more obviously Latino.

I’ve experienced this kind of attitude my entire life due to my white skin. My mom is Caucasian, so technically I am half European Caucasian (with a twist of Cherokee) but I am also half Mexican. And, as anyone of color will tell you because we know this firsthand, if you are brown or black in any amount, to most Caucasians, you are “other” because you’re not 100% Caucasian so I’ve always just embraced it. I refuse to deny who I am, where I come from or the fact that on my dad’s side, I am first generation Mexican-American. That makes my daughters with their alabaster skin, blue eyes and blonde hair, second generation Mexican-American. We are proud of this, as we should be but then, every once in a while, especially in today’s politically charged, infused with extra hatred and bigotry environment, we are slapped across the face with the feeling of others trying to make us feel small and less than. Yes, even today in 2016.

racism, racism at school, students, Donald Trump

Not to bring Donald Trump into this but honestly, he has broken the dam of the shame of racism that most polite societies had been adhering to. He has come in like a hurricane and ripped all politically correct walls down and made it not only acceptable but in some cases even applaudable to be prejudiced. Racism, xenophobia, and bigotry are running rampant under the guise of national pride and patriotism. I’m here to tell you that it’s not acceptable and never will be. It’s still just as disgusting as it ever was and now that the Trump trickle-down effect has directly involved my children, we have a problem and I’m ready to fight.

Which brings me to a couple recent situations that happened to my daughters at school recently. I’m pretty tolerant. I know that children sometimes regurgitate things they’ve heard at home without knowing what it really means. I also am painfully aware that hatred is taught not born. My girls know this as well and they readily afford their fellow students the benefit of the doubt but when they hear a prejudiced joke or comment made they also readily volunteer the information that they are Mexican and that those particular comments are offensive to them. In my house, we always think to ourselves, what would we allow someone to say to Grandpa Manny? If it would hurt him, it hurts us.

Last Wednesday, my daughter came home from a field trip, that my husband attended with her, and told me that the other kids in our car were telling her and one another that they were “voting for Donald Trump” and “Hillary Clinton wants to kill babies.” They went on to say that they wanted Trump to win so he could build a wall and “keep the Mexicans out!” Before my husband had the chance to say a word, my 9-year-old informed the children, “You know that I’m a girl and I’m Mexican.” (My 9-year-old doesn’t understand why anyone would vote for a racist misogynist, especially other women.) To which the kids answered, “Well, I knew you were a girl but I didn’t know you were MEXICAN!” My daughter’s answer, “Well, now you do.”

I don’t know about you but I find it very disturbing that parents are at home telling their kids that Hillary Clinton wants to kill babies and I’m personally offended that these children want to keep Mexicans out like we are some kind of criminal, lower life forms. It also disturbs me that my children are surrounded by such blatant racist every day.

On Friday, my daughter jumped in the car at pick-up and told me another disturbing tale of fourth-grade racism.

A group of children was talking and said that they hope Trump wins so he can keep the Mexicans out because they (Meaning Mexicans) are part of ISIS and the part of the reason the Twin Towers were attacked. What? Has the world gone mad?

racism, racism at school, students, Donald Trump, Ann Coulter

Take a moment to soak that last statement in. Does it disturb you to your core too? Because the sheer magnitude of the ignorance of that statement frightened me. If these children think Mexicans are terrorists couldn’t that prejudice them against the Latino children at the school? I know there is only a handful of but still. My point is this, the entire discussion was inappropriate and factually incorrect. Mexicans are not Islamic terrorists. All Muslims are not terrorists. And it was Al Qaeda and Osama Bin Laden who were responsible for the twin towers and 9/11, not the Mexicans; not a race or a culture but a group of terrorist extremist. Why are these parents teaching their children to hate people who don’t look, act, and talk exactly like they do?

Apparently, these children have confused Mexicans and Islamic terrorists. I know the skin tones can be a little confusing if you are not exposed to a diverse group of people but either way, these children are regurgitating racism and xenophobia; neither of which I feel are appropriate or should be tolerated in life and certainly not at the school.

I’m not normally one to email the school with every single infraction or indiscretion. I am an active parent volunteer at the school and I support their mission, that’s why I enrolled my daughters in the school, but this kind of behavior cannot stand. I had to say something. There has to be a zero-tolerance policy for this sort of behavior. These situations warrant a discussion with the children and they need to know in no uncertain terms that prejudice and hatred are not okay on any level. We need to teach the children tolerance and acceptance of differences, not persecution and prejudice.

This election has given people a false belief that it is their right to be judgmental and a false sense of justification in racial profiling and it’s become uncomfortable on a very personal and basic level. I don’t want my daughters thinking there is something fundamentally wrong with being Latino nor do I want them to feel ashamed or like they are being judged or put in danger simply for being born with Latino blood in their body.

I realize that my daughters look Caucasian and may not experience blatant racism as frequently as some other children who have more obvious Latino features but it is sometimes just as uncomfortable being the whitest Mexican in the room, especially when racist comments are being thrown around and you know all the people that you love most in the world are being denigrated. I don’t want my children feeling ashamed of who they are because other children are being taught racism and hatred at home.

I don’t know about you but I have a pretty thick skin when it comes to myself but if you insult or injure my children, you will have me to contend with and I won’t let it go because it is my job to protect my children. If that means I have to hurt someone’s feeling by pointing out that their bad behavior will not be tolerated, then so be it.

What would you have done if your child was experiencing racism at school?

 

 

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new baby smell

I hate to admit it but I’ve been missing that new baby smell. I thought I was done having babies but lately, I’m having some sort of parenting growing pains and amidst all of the letting go, my uterus is trying to hold on for dear life. It’s crazy that I am saying this out loud because it feels a little like something I should be keeping to myself but what they hell, I figure when I go through these difficult times, I’m not usually the only one feeling this way.

The thing is I’ve always wanted a big family. I come from six brothers and sisters and even when it was crazy, crowded and hard there was a simple peace in knowing that I had 5 built in “ride or die” bitches at my disposal. I mean, we’re the kind of deep that if one calls to tell the others that we just murdered someone, there is no asking why or questioning our morality and sanity, there is only, “where do I need to be and what do I need to do to protect you?” These are the people I would die for or at the very least murder for. I’m not afforded the luxury of dying for anyone since having children, except for them.

Anyways, the point is I kind of wanted my children to have that. They do. They have each other and I have taught them in specific what it means to be each other’s ride or die bitch and they know that’s how family works. Family is everything. They know that. They embrace it mostly except for when they are telling the other one that they wish they were an only child. That really burns my ass because I worked hard for the two I have and they should be grateful that they have one another. That new baby smell is like heroine.

When I was a little girl, I wanted at least 4 kids. It was a many as my mom or my grandmothers had but it was a nice even number of children to love. I wanted two boys and two girls. I got the two girls. But life and circumstances just didn’t provide us with the opportunity to have four. I would have settled for 3 but then I had the miscarriage and then I was just too freaking beaten down and betrayed by my own body that I gave up. I was afraid; terrified of another loss. That was 4 years ago but it hasn’t stopped the desire for holding a newborn to my chest and inhaling that new baby smell.

We waited to have babies until after we had been married for five years. In truth, I was ready after year one but the Big Guy wasn’t so convinced early on if he was sure that he wanted kids. We had fallen in love and gotten married quickly. In all that hustle, we forgot to hammer out the details like children. It was a really shitty spot to be in knowing that you absolutely loved your husband but that you would both have to make a decision whether or not the marriage could survive the sacrifice of not having children. I knew I wanted to be a mother. It wasn’t something I was willing to forgo. I knew if I did, I’d regret it later and probably end up hating him for it in the long run. It was all coming to a head when we decided to plan to plan to get pregnant. Life had other plans. We got pregnant on our five-year anniversary getaway.

The point is we got pregnant and after the shock wore off, we were both absolutely thrilled with the idea of being parents. So thrilled in fact that we immediately planned to get pregnant again. We wanted the kids to be two years apart and so that’s what we did. Again, it was amazing. The Big Guy is not only an amazing man in general, he is an outstanding father. I mean he’s the kind of dad that you see in the movies. He not only loves his girls unconditionally, he is involved in their lives and not only talks to them but listens to them; like really listens. He even hears what they don’t say. It’s kind of beautiful and every time I see it, I fall deeper in love with him. So, we planned to go for baby #3. I really wanted a boy because the thought of raising a son with my husband, molding another boy into a man like my husband; let’s just say, there need to be more men in the world like my husband. But fear tricked me into believing that I was done.

Now, here I am, past my own personal expiration date and I can’t stop thinking of that one more baby. My ovaries occasionally twitch and I my imagination conjures that new baby smell. I get glimpses of what another baby would look like in our family but it’s too late. My time has passed. But it doesn’t stop me from daydreaming about what a son raised by the Big Guy would have been like. Then I find myself sad because I feel like we missed an opportunity to do something amazing. I’m missing that new baby smell. I’m feeling a giant hole where baby #3 should be. Maybe it’s just that time of year and I know we had it in our grasp and we lost it. We had it and it’s gone, like those damn Pokémon that ghost out on you after using 10 superballs. Once your balls are gone, they’re gone. I don’t know how to fill this hole. I don’t think there is anything I can do but learn to live with it.

I can’t be the only one who’s felt this way. I imagine there are plenty of people who have decided to forgo becoming parents or put parenthood on the back burner only to feel regret later. I’m actually certain that there are people who’ve had children and wished they hadn’t. Only I know that I wish I had our third. It’s my only regret in my life. I’ve always believed that where there is a will there is a way but, in this case, there is no possible way that I can have another pregnancy or have another natural pregnancy. I have the tools and all my parts are still working but the risk just outweighs the reward and the odds of failure are much higher. I don’t want to go through that but how do you learn to live with not being able to fulfill a heart’s desire?

How do you reconcile being done having babies but missing that new baby smell?

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insomnia, mommy sex and the man cold, man cold, feminine hygiene, U.T.I, motherhood, dad cold

Oh you read that title right? And I’m the barely living proof. In case you’ve been wondering where the hell I’ve been all week, I got taken out of the game by a U.T.I. Yep, I said it. No alibi just a damn U.T.I. I’m feeling like I’m upside down in the middle of nowhere. As if having stress incontinence and mommy brain were not embarrassing enough.

This past weekend I was feeling out of sorts, okay, bat shit crazy is more appropriate. What started out as a low blood sugar spell, as my mamma would call it, turned into something else. I ate something but nothing seemed to work. I just couldn’t shake that lightheaded feeling.

I took a shower, laid down and prayed that it would pass. It didn’t. Of course, I’m going through WebMd assuming the worst. It had to be a tumor or maybe brain cancer. Maybe I’m about to go into a diabetic coma (no I’m not diabetic) or maybe my blood pressure was going to make me have a stroke. Fuck, I don’t want to have a stroke. Or maybe the stress of my children is finally going to give me Bells Palsy. It’s not funny. I think about this sort of shit and then I freak out because my smile is already crooked and I just don’t think I can pull off the droopy face look. Some people can, just like some people look good bald. I am barely passing as human on a good day.

The next thing I knew, all the blood is rushing from my head and the only thing I can hear was the sound of my own blood coursing through my veins. The room was getting foggy and I was freaking out because I knew it was going to happen next. I was going to pass out.

I screamed for the Big Guy and when he came upstairs, he saw that I was as white as a ghost and, through my head spinning fog, I told him that we needed to go to the hospital, the vets or whatever the closest place was where a person trained in medicine, of any kind, could make me feel “normal”. Not your typical Sunday night. Well, maybe it is for us. Over the course of this past year, it seems like everything that ever happens bad to us happens on Sunday. Remember the ER visit on Easter Sunday thanks to the gall bladder from hell. It’s our only free day of the week. I think just the fact that my body gets to rest, it goes into shock and likes to cause some good old fashioned drama.

I went to the doctor expecting to be told that I had high blood pressure or high sugar, high something. I’m a middle-aged mom who never makes time for herself. What the hell else would I expect? Of course my body is going to mutiny at some point. But that wasn’t the case.

Turned out that I had a blockage in my ear, that needed to be removed. That was disgusting. If you’ve ever had one, then you know I’m talking about and if you haven’t count yourself lucky. While I was being poked and prodded at every end, they also found out that I have a UTI. A fucking U.T.I at my age!

I’ve never had a U.T.I before.

Somehow I made all through college and all that sex and never had a U.T.I but here I am a week before my 44th birthday, monogamous for nearly 2 decades, with my first U.T.I like some coed gone wild. That’ll teach me to have sex three times in one week.

Apparently due to the infection, I was experiencing some lightheadedness. I didn’t even know that was possible. Who knew that your urethra wielded such dizzying power over your mental well-being? Just in case the finicky urethra was not the culprit, my Eustachian tube had to be excavated and all wax removed, by force if necessary.

It all sounded terrible, what I could hear of it. Apparently, between the swooshing of my blood in my head and my blocked ear, I wasn’t hearing as well as I should’ve been. The thing is when your urethra is hijacking your health, your ear is being power washed from the inside out and, just to keep things interesting, your vagina and all of her reproductive friends are trying to kill you by slow and heavy internal bleeding, you just don’t give a fuck whether or not they beat on your ear drum with a miniature fire hose. You just make a bunch of ugly faces, while your kids watch because it’s Sunday and you have no babysitter, and you deal with it. That’s being a grown up and it sucks.

All ready long story short, sometimes weird shit happens on Sunday afternoon and you just have to put on your big girl panties (and a bra if you’re going into public) and hit up the local hospital where they know your name and pay a ridiculous amount of money because being able to function without falling over or passing out, is pretty important when you’re a mom. I mean how am I supposed to drive everyone everywhere if I’m randomly passing out all over the place? How is my husband supposed to be gone at a conference all week if I’m running a fever and passing out?

Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just take 10 days’ worth of these horse pill antibiotics (maybe he did take me to the vets after all) and 10 days straight of antihistamine and wait for the impending yeast infection that will surely follow while you all just go on about your lives. By all means family, don’t let my illness encroach on your plans…. mother fuckers. (I feel like I should add a Mother Fucker there for some reason).

Anyways, I’m not passing out but I’m now feeling crazy from the steady Benadryl drip I’m on. But it’s all good. Nobody be alarmed. I took the kids to all their extracurricular activities this week. The Big Guy didn’t miss any of his conference social events and I even managed to attend a Middle school football game (because my daughter cheered) and a mandatory school board meeting. I’m not bragging or anything but did I mention that I cooked dinner every damn day this week? Don’t be jealous, ladies! Not bad for a half dead woman who can’t hear and has issues with her lady bits. Of course, my house looks like a pig sty had a baby with a tornado.

This Sunday is my birthday. The girls are going to grandma’s house tonight and all I want to do is sleep for the next 48-hours. But that probably won’t happen because…well, I’m a mom and a wife and when the people I love need me, I can’t say no. We have tickets to a Purdue game and my parents are coming to visit and…I just need a nap. Can I just be the flake this weekend? Why couldn’t I have simply contracted a man cold? With a man cold, all expectations would have disappeared but not with a U.T.I. I caught the wrong thing from my husband.

Have you ever suffered from a U.T.I ?

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