Saturday, May 4, 2013, my Bella received her first Holy Communion. In the Catholic religion, communion is the third sacrament that our child receives. It is something they prepare for all year, culminating in a mass in which they wear a beautiful white outfit (like they did not so long ago when they were christened as newborns) and they are called to the altar to consume the consecrated body and blood of Christ. It is a beautiful mass. But for me, as a mother it was so much more. (more…)
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Communion
Stealing Pillows
Exhausted and weary, I frantically searched my bed for my pillow; the pillow that I have had since college that has been my source of comfort for all these years. Yes, I realize, I am a grown woman and I shouldn’t “need” a pillow but I did; I do. I’m an insomniac who gets little sleep and when I do, I am a creature of habit.I got up and searched the floor surrounding the king sized bed and then my entire bedroom. Desperate for sleep, I tiptoed into my daughters’ bedroom to see if my pillow had found it’s way into a tent or play house. I searched by the light of my iPhone, trying not to impale myself on Barbie heels or stub my toe on an American Girl. Nope. It wasn’t in their tent nor in any make shift play house, not squished in a corner or thrown in a chair.
It was late and my desperation for sleep was rapidly increasing. I went back to my bed and tried to just sleep. Just lie there and drift off to sleep but my brain kept flashing “Where’s that Pillow?” It had to be here, somewhere.
Unfortunately, I am the person who jumps out of bed in the middle of the night if I am not sure that my keys are where they are supposed to be or if I’m not sure I put my credit card back in my wallet at the restaurant. I am that person. So, of course, there was absolutely no way I was going to sleep while that pillow was still out there. God knows where.
I got up and went downstairs and searched the first floor. Not in the living room, or media room. Hell, I even checked the bar room and the bathroom. Hey, with a 6 and 8-year-old, you never know where things might end up. Finally, I gave up; deflated and depressed; exhausted.
I climbed back into bed and in my spot was the tiny frame of my 6-year-old. I gently pushed her over as she clung to a pillow like a sighing little monkey in the dark. She was holding that pillow tight; like it was the last pillow on earth.
I slipped in behind her and cuddled her small body; not the squishy baby she was but not the awkward big girl she will soon become. In this moment, I was comforted holding my sweet little girl who still smells of green apples. She sunk deeper into me and somewhere between obsessing over losing my pillow and morning I drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, I awoke to my sweet little girl still lying beside me and rousing awake. What was she clinging to so strongly during the night? My pillow.
“Hey, where did you get my pillow?”
“I took it!”
“When?”
“Last night when I went to bed.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to feel like I am cuddling with you mommy!”
And then I melted because how could I argue? Why would I argue? They are only this little for a little while so, I gave it to her.
Letter to Parents of Autistic Teen, Max Begley: “You have a Retarded Kid, deal with it!” Not a Hate Crime
WTF is wrong with people? I have seen some pretty crazy shit in my lifetime but nothing compares to the disturbing letter written by an anonymous Newcastle, Ontario neighbor calling herself, “One Pissed Off Mother” urging the parents of a 13-year-old autistic teen, Max Begley, to “…take whatever non-retarded body parts he possesses and donate it to science…” Going so far as to write the words,
Do the right thing and move or euthanize him!!!
If you read the above letter and your jaw did not hit the ground, I’m not sure that we can be friends. When I read this letter for the first time, first I was in shock, then my heart was broken that someone would say something like this about another human being, never mind a special needs child and lastly, I was pissed off and that is where I am this morning.Hey, anonymous asshole, you are not the only pissed off mother today. I’m pissed off too. Pissed off that animals like you are not kept in cages. Let’s be clear, Max Begley has a disability that he was born with. He has no control over it. YOU.CHOSE.TO.BE.AN.ASSHOLE!!!!!!
The even crazier part is that police won’t be able to pursue hate crime charges for the anonymous letter.
“Despite the hateful language used … the content of the letter falls below the threshold for a hate crime,” police said in a statement Tuesday.
Police are asking anyone with information regarding the case should call Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477 (TIPS and they are still moving ahead with a criminal investigation. This cannot be swept under the rug. These actions were too heinous and reprehensible.
If that is not dripping with hatred, I don’t know what is. This letter is the epitome of hatred.The one good thing to come out of this whole awful ordeal is that the community is rallying around Max and supporting his family. Tolerance and kindness are filling the space where hatred once was.We all have bad days. Maybe this one pissed off cretin was having a bad day. Maybe her “normal” kids were being monsters and she was trying to get everything around for back-to-school, maybe her husband’s a drunk who beats her, maybe her daddy didn’t love her, maybe she can’t find a job, maybe she’s not slept in 9 years and she’s about to lose her house and maybe she took all her frustration with the world and her life and put it into this letter, viciously attacking and wishing death on a child. Maybe she needs mental help? Even taking all of these conditions into consideration, that is NO excuse to call a child names and tell his parents to do the world a favor and euthanize their son.
As a mother, I am appalled that any other mother would not only lack the compassion it takes to write such a disgusting letter but be so callous in her disregard for this child’s life and for the struggles of his parents. Let me be clear, this “one pissed off mother” is a C You Next Thursday in the worst way and I kinda hope her identity is revealed and the neighbors ostracize her ass right out of the neighborhood. This woman should have her children taken away and her uterus removed because she does not deserve to have children, be around children or humans; big or small.
I am still in shock that any “mother” would ever think such things, never mind, write them down and send them to someone.Why would she think that these parents of Max Begley should take their child and move to a trailer in the woods? Just because he was born with a disability, does that make him less deserving of medical attention and love and life? He has done nothing to deserve this hatred from her other than being vocal in his neighborhood.
This is everything that is wrong with this world. So called “normal” people wanting to lock those of us who are different away in a tower, an institution, a trailer in the woods or a deserted island hidden from the world like some kind of monsters. Just because you don’t see us doesn’t mean that we don’t exist. Just because you ignore us doesn’t mean that we don’t feel and your cruelty cuts deep. You, one pissed of mother, you are the monster!
Anyone who can write the below line has their own set of problems beyond a autistic teen being a vocal “nuisance.”
I HATE people like you who believe, just because you have a special needs kid, you are entitled to special treatment!!!
They do not want special treatment. That is the entire point. They want to be treated like any other family. They want to live in a neighborhood and be a family. It is monsters like one pissed off mother who make this impossible by being cruel, unkind and lacking of human compassion and understanding.
What do you think of this One Pissed Off Mother? What would you do if you were Max Begley’s parents?
Who’s Protecting Our Daughters?
It is once again Throat Punch Thursday and after the past two weeks, I feel like I might need to create a tab on my blog labeled misogyny gone wild. People, I don’t want to stay up here on this soap box defending women’s rights and equality but what is going on in the world? People have lost their damn minds and the world has declared rapid fire war on women. So today’s throat punch is plural. It’s ok though, last week I gave you sunsets in San Diego so I owed you one anyways.
First, there is Mrs.Hall, a mom of teen boys, who wrote a blog post titled, FYI ( if you’re a teenage girl) in which she blames all the braless teen girls on social media for her sons’ sexual urges. Look, I get it there are some women who are submissive and agreed to all that “obey” and “submit” shit in their wedding vows, who believe misogyny is a good thing. I am not one of those women. I know that good Christian parents want to raise good Christian children. I do. I get it. I sent my kids to Catholic school for just this reason. I want my girls to be raised with a good moral compass just as much as Mrs. Hall wants her boys to be raised with a “good moral compass.” That’s my job; to raise my girls to have self-respect and be strong, independent women who love their bodies and don’t need societal approval. I want to raise self-confident, intelligent and happy children. I want them to become women who know that at the end of the day, the only person they have to qualify their choices with is themselves and God. Not to me, not to some guy and certainly not to some guy’s overbearing, crazy mother.
It’s not my job to police all the teenage boys in the vicinity and shame them into staying away from my daughters. It is not my job to make my girls feel like they should be ashamed of their bodies and are less than a man. I refuse to teach my girls that men are slaves to their penises so girls have to operate on the defensive, lest they be raped and it be their own fault. Because men succumbing to their sexual urges is natural but a woman doing the same is shameful and sinful and any woman who does so is not only in danger of going straight to hell but also in taking every penis within her reach with her. This is what Mrs. Hall fears most.
Mrs. Hall you don’t think too much of your boys if you believe them to be so weak. I don’t understand how you can demean young girls for going braless in selfies when you, yourself, posted topless photos of your sons on the beach. Your misogyny and willingness to perpetuate double standards, sickens me. Why not just raise your boys to not look at braless selfies? Or can you not trust them to escape the hold of the braless teen breast?
Bottom line, Mrs. Hall’s post was condescending and seething in passive aggressiveness. Don’t tell me to control my girls. Don’t tell my girls to control themselves. Do your job and teach your boys to control their own sexual urges.Keep your threats of online exile and maybe consider parental controls, limiting social media for your boys or just plain taking it away. By the way, I think it’s pretty effing creepy that you sit around the table as a family and scroll through photos of teen girls looking for braless selfies so you can pass judgement and dole out consequences. You get a throat punch, Mrs.Hall, for your very unbecoming behavior as a mother and a woman.
Second, a convicted rapist, Richard Thomas, collapsed after police told him he may have contracted HIV from the woman raped while she slept. Thomas “let himself into her home uninvited in the middle of the night and she awoke to find him raping her from behind. He’d been drinking heavily and taking ecstasy and claims to not recall any of it.
Thomas was sentenced to five years and four months after pleading guilty to raping a woman while she slept. He will find out from test results later this week whether he’s contracted the disease.
Okay, let me just say that I don’t give a rat’s ass if Thomas remembers doing it or not. He did it. Whether you remember it or not is inconsequential. He seems to have absolutely no remorse about what he has done, even though he has definitely ruined her life by taking away her sense of security and safety in her own home and violating her in such a vulnerable position, now, does he really expect people to feel sorry for him that he might have contracted HIV?
I don’t. In fact, if he has contracted HIV, he’s gotten what he deserves. He may be the first rapist in the history of the world who has. I wish he’d caught some sort of venereal disease that made he penis shrivel up and fall off because, for what he’s done, that is exactly what he deserves and owes his victim. I don’t feel sorry for you, Mr. Thomas, instead I bestow upon you a Throat Punch. Fuck you and your bullshit story about not remembering, may your HIV serve as a constant reminder that women are not here solely for your entertainment and use.
Third, the University of Vermont frat brothers who are looking via Craigs list for a MILF (a woman over 25. What?) to come clean and cook for them in exchange for free sex with the lot of them. Like a house mother but with, you know, “perks” because that is what every grown woman wants, right? The privilege of having sex with some fumbling, drunk college frat brother who doesn’t know his head from his asshole. EWWWW! Boys, that’s why women almost always date older men; sexual experience, mental maturity and stable finances. What grown woman wants an inexperienced, selfish lover who smells of Axe body spray and skunked beer?
We are a house of 10 men who all are seniors at UVM and are looking for an attractive older woman to come and cook for us every few days. In exchange she gets her pick of the men of the house to have.
Requirements aren’t lengthy; be a woman older than 25 who can cook and would like to enjoy some hot sex with a number of fit 20 somethings. Hopefully you can come by every week for a meal and some play time. Obviously we can work to accommodate your schedule. 😉
We are located in Burlington, are a fun and clean group of guys, and are all 21+.
These boys clearly have no respect for women, mommy issues and a warped sense of humor. Well, at least I hope this was an attempt at humor, a Craig’s list ad written under the influence of a night of binge drinking. Because if not, the University of Vermont campus has bigger problems and might need to hire some extra escorts and pass out rape whistles to all the incoming freshman and female janitorial staff because these boys don’t discriminate. I wonder of any of them are recent graduates of Steubenville?
Fourth, Facebook and porn! Oh dear Lord Facebook, what the hell were you thinking? Yesterday afternoon, I jumped on FB to check my account and what to my shock did I sit down to see staring me back but a screen full of a close up shot of some woman’s vagina being manually manipulated by herself. At first, I was so stunned and a vagina on my FB tread was so out of context that it really took me a moment to figure out just WTF I was looking at. Seriously. Then, I immediately saw that it was an photo attachment to a comment left on Arianna Huffington’s status. In my shocked state, I was fumbling to unfollow and hide the photo before one of my kids walked into my office and saw it. I am not ready for the masturbation conversation yet. The really crazy thing is that FB will snatch down a photo of a mom breastfeeding her baby in a second and deem it as inappropriate but the up close beaver shot fell through the cracks. Is FB just more of a beaver man than a boob man? I don’t know but I prefer my Facebook without the side of pornography. Thank you. So FB, you too get a throat punch.
There were more like itsparenting.com swiping content from bloggers and claiming it as their own, even being so ridiculous that they featured a post about themselves being plagiarist. Huh? Or how about Cherice Moralez, a victim of rape, being held responsible for provoking her rapist and in some way consenting when she was only 14 when it happened, the rapist was 49 and they both agreed it was not consensual. The judge ruled otherwise giving the rapist only 30 days in jail! Cherice Moralez committed suicide because we live in a misogynistic society who doesn’t protect it’s women from it’s men. This is a fact and a trend and I want better for my girls. I want them to be treated with the respect and reverence they deserve by men, by their government and most importantly by other women.
Who do you think deserves a throat punch this week?
The Hardest Part is the Waiting
When I was pregnant with Bella, I constantly listened to Celine Dion’s album Miracle. Honestly, it was my first pregnancy and I was so in love with my baby before she was ever born, like all moms-to-be. From the moment that I knew she was there, I loved her, more than life itself and I still do. This is how I have felt about every pregnancy and every child I’ve had the pleasure of growing in my body.
I would sway back and forth in her nursery, rubbing my belly and singing the songs to her, imagining all the things I would get to do with her throughout her life. All the books said that you should talk to your unborn baby because they would know your voice, and she did. She kicked and we had our long conversations in that nursery as the sun shone through the window and kissed my belly; just the two of us.
After she was born, I would soothe her to sleep in my arms, rocking in front of that same window looking down into her big blue eyes. My miracle realized; my child in my arms to love for all eternity. The love was sometimes almost overwhelming. It scared me to love someone so much; it still does.
My Bella has been sick since last Thursday when she unexpectedly passed out in my arms and my whole world feels upside down. Nothing seems right and even the air feels thicker. Yesterday, we went for her follow up and they sent us for an echocardiogram…just to be sure. My heart stopped. I thought everything was fine but I’ve been here before, that unsuspecting moment when you think life is fine and it gets completely knocked upside down. I don’t want to be here. I want to be somewhere else; anywhere else. I want to close my eyes and cover my ears and pretend none of this is happening.
The echocardiogram took what seemed like an eternity. I don’t know if that is standard or if they saw something. I only know that I feel like I can’t breathe. She’s been throwing up and laying around the house frail and sickly and I just want to take it all away.
Now, I wait for the results of one of the most important tests of my life. I am freaking out and today was the first time I’ve had the chance to process my feelings. The Big Guy is back at work, Bella went back to school and I am waiting by the phone, listening to that CD that made me so happy when I sung those songs to my Bella when she was safe in my arms and sobbing as I type this because the uncertainty is breaking my heart.
This could be the beginning of something we have to tackle or it could be nothing. Either way, I have to keep it together for Bella, my miracle.
***Update: After the doctor didn’t call last night, considering that I have been frantic since last Thursday when this all started, I called the pediatrician who is out of office until Thursday. I started choking up and crying on the phone with the nurse because my nerves are shot and practically begging them to call me as soon as the doctor walked in on Thursday morning, knowing full well that I will be a hot, sobbing mess until then. The nurse tried to talk me off my worried mommy ledge but it wasn’t working. She just called back and said she called the doctor at home and after consulting with the pediatric cardiologist: “No need to worry. No abnormalities. No issues. No Restrictions!” Thank You God and everyone who prayed. I’ve never been so happy to hear the word no in my life. WHEW!!!Exhale!Breathe….that’s what the nurse just told me. I am trying but first I must finish the stress crying.
Bloggers are Full of Shit
Bloggers are full of shit. Some of them anyways. I’ve recently noticed a trend among a few select bloggers who specifically go against the grain just to stir the pot. I am not bashing male bloggers, some of my favorite people on the Internet are dad bloggers but there are a few who have been hitting a nerve. It’s like Rush Limbaugh and Howard Stern had a devil baby who is a pathological liar. You know who I’m talking about. Bloggers are story tellers, some truth, some fiction and then sometimes a little bit of creative license (bullshitting if you will) mixed in just to keep things interesting.
I not saying that they post on the occasional controversial topic. We all do that. These particular “bloggers” are all drama, all the time. They’re so full of shit, I’m not even sure if they know the difference between what’s real and what’s made up anymore. It’s exhausting just reading. I can’t imagine how taxing it must be to actually be the one trying to keep all that shit straight. Controversial things happen and we have opinions that is natural and hey, if we’re being honest, it’s not being a troll to throw your name in the hat for consideration by the almighty Google. What I am referring to is the intentional and habitual abuse of salacious titles and creating controversy where there is none just for the sheer joy of pissing people off and increasing traffic. Stop fanning the flames of the mommy war or any war for that matter. Matt Walsh I’m looking at you.
We’ve all fallen prey to these sort of blog posts. It either turns out to be the old bait and switch or the post is so outlandish that you think your head might explode Scanners style while reading it, all while assuming that you must be getting punked. Surely, this is not intended to be taken seriously. When did the guy next door turn into a rabid Bill O’Reilly? Maybe he took some bath salts or got a bad batch of Krokodil before sitting down to type, either way, this dude is a little bit batshit crazy.
Look, I don’t mind a little creative license but fuck is any of it true anymore? Is everything just part of the “storyline” , added for effect? Stop superimposing yourself into the “mommy wars”, you don’t belong there. You are not a mommy. Stop creating controversy. We all know it’s bullshit and if you are going to keep writing it, for the love of God, man, can you give us a disclaimer that reads that this piece is fiction? I mean, at least do us the courtesy of not pretending that we are stupid and please stop writing press releases about it. It’s nothing personal guys, I just wish we could get something with a little more meat to it. Give me some of your truth.
It’s like when you are pissed at your sister, you can call her on her bullshit but nobody else better say a word? Well, it’s sort of like that. We women live as women and we may not walk in everyone’s shoes but at least we share the plumbing to have an inkling of what’s going on with other women, men do not; at least not from the firsthand perspective. Men are allowed to have an opinion about anything they want but if you don’t have breasts, a uterus, a vagina and clitoris,
I don’t care what you think I should do with mine because you have no point of personal reference.
*** I am only talking about ME, you are welcome to weigh in on your wives, daughters and loved ones.
Don’t tell me how I should feel about breastfeeding! Don’t tell me whether or not I should have a home birth or one at the hospital. Do NOT even try to give an opinion about whether my labor should be medicated or not. I don’t need your feelings on abortion, transvaginal ultrasounds, date rape, miscarriage, stay-at home, work-at-home or work-out-of-the-home. I don’t care what your opinion is about my breast size, breast augmentation or how, when, why I get pregnant. I don’t need you to weigh in on what size my ass should be or how often I should be want sex. I don’t need you to intervene on our behalf to other women in the mommy wars. I’ve got it covered. I don’t need you to be my shining knight in this area. I have my husband for that. I don’t need you to tell me that I shouldn’t experience mommy guilt or worry about whether or not my perfect balancing act of helicopter mom and free-range mom are coming dangerously close to falling completely uncrunchy. I don’t need you to tell me how hard being a mother is, I know and I certainly don’t need any commentary from you on how I should feel or behave as a mother, me and my uterus got it covered.Thanks.
If you really want to contribute to the conversation be a more interested husband, engaged father, committed boyfriend. Worry about you. Treat women like people, not china on the highest shelf in the cabinet. Go commiserate with your fellow penis people. Just write about something real that you actually have experience with and if that includes miscarriage, abortion, breasts, stay-at-home parenting, work-at-home parenting or whatever else that may include go for it. But leave the stupid controversy on topics you have no experience with to someone better equipped to understand the situation.
End rant.
Has anyone else noticed this happening? What happens when the blogging veil comes down and you realize that the blogger you used to love is full of shit?
***Update, those of you who know me know that I am not a feminist, angry bitter person and I don’t mind sharing traffic so, per the advice of many dad bloggers, I added the links to those full-of-shit bloggers that I was referring to so you can all know I am not speaking to the general population. In fact, I even linked to a couple of my favorite dad bloggers just so you know they rock. You who have read me before today know that the Big Guy, my husband, is my favorite person in the world and he is involved in every facet of parenting our children and he is my trusted confidant in all things in life. He gives me his honest opinion about everything because I respect what he thinks and he is usually my voice of reason and when it is something that he cannot personally relate to..like how it feels to give birth or labor for 13 hours or have your body fail you in a pregnancy, he is there to support me and reassure me that it will all be alright, as I am for him. I’m really not the C U Next Thursday, you all believe me to be.
The Beauty of Motherhood
I’ve been thinking about the beauty of motherhood a lot lately, in every way. It’s been a life changing couple of years. When I started this blog, I was in the thick of motherhood. I couldn’t see the beauty of it at all.
Sure, I saw the miracle in birth and felt the all consuming love that filled my heart with a smile from my daughters but I was right in the middle of it; too exhausted, too overwhelmed to stop and enjoy the little moments. I was too busy just trying to survive and truly believed that motherhood was misery peppered with moments of profound bliss but now I know better. Motherhood gives me so much more than I can ever give them. We give them life but they give us purpose.
The true beauty of motherhood is in the unexpected.
We just welcomed our newborn niece into the world and I’ve had babies on the brain. You know how that works? Ovaries start twitching and your uterus is all whispering, ” if you like it than you should put a baby in it!” Sneaky, baby loving uterus.
Babies are amazing and they smell like apples and pure love and you just want to eat them up and thank God because they leave you so freaking exhausted that you can’t see straight and you just want to cry. If only you had a free moment to do so.
The beauty of motherhood is that it is always changing.
My daughters are now 6 and 8-years-old and I have to say, I really like them; as people. They are kind, funny, smart, full of personality and wit and I am so proud to have even a very small part to do with that. I’ve made it a point over the past year to try and step back, breathe and be in the moment.
I spent so many years going through the motions; doing what I thought was expected of a “good” mom but it was more like a checklist than enjoying and embracing the beauty of motherhood. It was one more thing that I had to get done to get to the next moment. But what was I rushing towards? The letting go? Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
I know it’s easier said than done but every moment we have with our children may not be magical, but each and every one is a miracle. One day, I realized it doesn’t matter how perfect the birthday parties are or whether or not they have all the coolest clothes and toys, luxurious vacations and a big house in a fancy neighborhood. None of it matters because at the end of the day, all kids really care about or remember is that you loved them and the time you spent with them.
The real beauty of motherhood lies within the mistakes and do overs.
I know that my girls are my two favorite people in the world and no matter what sleep I’ve lost, nights out I’ve sacrificed, money or my body that I have lost, it’s all worth it to be loved and have the privilege of loving my little girls. No amount of money, sleep or fun will ever be able to replace the early morning hugs and silly giggles that only a child of your own can bring.
Motherhood changes everything. Motherhood is hard. Motherhood is the realization that you can love deeper and truer than you ever thought possible and then just as quickly realizing that the thing you love most in the world, is walking around free in the world. Your heart is on the loose and you know that any hurt or damage they endure, will be multiplied by infinity in your own heart.
The beauty of motherhood is the simple gift of loving and being loved so unconditionally that nothing else matters.
Motherhood is glorious in ways that I never knew possible and painful in ways that I never imagined. Motherhood is messy and wonderful. From the moment you know they exist, they will change your life forever. It’s harder than anything you’ve ever done or will ever do because it’s more important than anything else you will ever do.
But we do it willingly because the reward always outweighs the sacrifice and that’s the real truth about motherhood that no one ever tells you. The beauty of motherhood is that it’s blindingly beautiful at times and at other times it takes the breath right out of you.
Your heart won’t know what hit it. Enjoy it. Every single minute of it because it flies by and before you know it, the precious baby who you were wishing to crawl is out the door, dating and driving and all you can do is hold on for dear life as you are forced to let go.
Beautiful, sweet Delaney, welcome to the world and Kate & Jeff, welcome to this wonderful, crazy club we call parenthood. It’s the best and hardest thing you will ever do and it is worth every single second of sleep lost and tear shed. XOXO
That is the real, true beauty of motherhood.
Throat Punch Thursday ~ Senator Hatch, There is No Such thing as a “Recreational” Abortion
Can someone please explain to me what a recreational abortion is? Well, once again my guest recipient for today’s Throat Punch is a politician but surprisingly it is not a Republican. This time it is Democratic Senator Jack Hatch of Iowa. He’s one of the good guys. He doesn’t believe that women don’t have the right to choose. He doesn’t typically support the theory that women are frivolous creatures who choose to end pregnancies for selfish reasons but when giving a speech recently he must have forgotten how to use his words or simply forgotten which side he was on. All I know is that his flub has earned him a good hard throat punch just to remind him to use his words.
While discussing the likelihood that Iowa Republicans will once more come after the state’s Medicaid coverage of abortions in the cases of rape, incest, and the life of the pregnant person, Hatch told the Associated Press that the Republicans will be unsuccessful, noting that these are “medically-needed” abortions versus “recreational abortions.” Uhhm, what the fuck did he just say?
When I think of a recreational activity I think of something fun like playing a sport, something involving frolicking, laughing uncontrollably, splashing or a cocktail and watching the sun set on a tropical island. I think of being out of this world happy; probably because recreational activities are at a premium in my life these days.
I do not think of making one of the hardest decisions of a woman’s life. I don’t think of tears and remorse; surgery and pain. I don’t think of changing my place in the world and living with that choice for all eternity. That’s not what recreation is in my book; not in any woman’s book. Is it recreational when a man is castrated or gets a vasectomy? Is that fun for men? Do men like to be kicked in the balls?
Fortunately, I’ve never had to decide to have an “abortion” but I did have a medically needed D & E (Dilation and Evacuation) after I miscarried. I had no choice in the matter but I will tell you that it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to live through. It nearly broke me. It was not fun. It is not a hobby of mine. It was not something that I took lightly or will ever forget. That procedure changed my life, the very fabric of who I am. It was not something I would ever associate with recreation, whether you chose it or it was forced on you out of medical necessity, like mine was, the end of a life is not recreational.
It’s my assumption since Senator Hatch is one of the good guys that what he meant was medically necessary meaning that there is no choice and by “recreational” he meant that it was a choice but boy was his choice of words wrong. They came off as flip and demeaning to women.
I’ve said it before and I will say it again; if you weren’t born with a uterus and vagina, stay out of mine. You have no idea what you are talking about. There is no way to understand the toll abortion, pregnancy, infertility, birth, labor, delivery or loss of a pregnancy of child have on a woman, unless you have been in her shoes and experienced it first hand.
Abortion is never done without thought, no matter what the run of the mill pro-lifer will try and have you believe. A pregnancy affects a woman on some level from the moment she knows it has happened. There is a weight that comes with the ability to bring life into the world and we women know it, we feel it and we live it. We don’t need anyone else to tell us how to feel about it or when its okay and when its not or give us permission to do what we want with our own body. How is this even a political discussion? It’s a personal decision not a political one. It doesn’t affect the country; it effects one woman and her life.
What do you think of using the word ‘recreational’ to refer to abortion?
People Without Children Should STFU about Parenting
I love British humor and this comedian, Michael McIntyre, has wrapped up parenthood about as well as anyone ever has. He says what we’ve all thought at one time or another, people who don’t have kids have no idea what they are talking about when they discuss parenting or offer their advice on how you, in your sleep deprived, baby brain, overwhelmed self, can be a better parent if you would only just stop making it so damn hard.
My daughters are 6 & 8, so I have been doing this parenting thing for quite a while now. I love it almost every single moment but there are moments like when my 6-year-old wakes up in the middle of the night, goes to the potty ( in my bathroom after turning on the light in the hallway in my room) sits down and when I go to check on her, promptly develops the worst case of potty rage, I have ever seen. “Get.OUT.MOMMY@!!! I don’t want you in here!” This usually continues for about 30 minutes until I give up and my husband comes in to help at which point she screams at the top of her lungs that she now hates him and wants me.Then she walks past us both and gets in our bed and hogs all of the covers.
Or what about every morning when the same said 6-year-old, who is a complete sweetheart between the hours of 8 am and 7 pm, wakes up shouting that she doesn’t want to get up. She’s tired. I’m mean and her stomach/eye/nose/butt/and/or ankle are all hurting her and I don’t care.You know why? Because it’s hard to care when she does it every day and she spent the previous night waking you up to yell at you that she hates you in her potty rage. Then she stares at her food for 30 minutes, only to complain that it is cold when she takes her first bite. When she does finally make it upstairs, she dawdles around for another 20 minutes which ends in a fast and furious mad dash for the front door with hair being brushed out the door, shirts not tucked, forgetting water/snack/book or homework and usually, her yelling, “Why do you always rush me?” Let’s not even get started on her sister who has mastered the art of the eye roll and walkaway.
Anyways, this comedian has mastered the toddler/preschool years. I know, I’ve been there. Some days we still have to beg the 6-year-old to put on her damn shoes and walk out the door. It’s fun to watch if you’re not in the middle of it and he is so right, people without kids have no idea because they have nothing to compare it to. Just like you can’t explain labor to a person who’s never given birth because they can listen but they can not understand the all consuming pain that comes with evicting an unwilling dweller from your body.
So, 25-year-old lady at the grocery store with the perfectly manicured nails, clean clothes, bright eyed and bushy-tailed because she got laid before her 10 hours of sleep, stop giving me dirty looks when I hand my kid my phone to keep her occupied so I can get the groceries I need to feed her before she decides to go off like a nuclear bomb in this joint because she missed nap time. And never, ever, if you value your life, give parenting advice to a parent if you don’t have children of your own because you might think you know what it’s like but you have no fucking idea of the things we’ve seen and done since giving birth. You should be afraid, be very afraid!
Like a Mack Truck
It’s been one of those weeks. You know the ones where you are bone tired but at the same time there is something inside that won’t shut off. It’s like your flight or fight response has kicked in and you have no one to fight and nowhere to run because the cause follows you because it is within you.
The week started with a midnight ding on my laptop; a comment on a blog post about my battle with anorexia. God that seems like a lifetime ago in the miserable state of affairs my body stands in today. The comment was left by a 15-year-old girl in New Zealand who is struggling with eating disorders. She is crying for help but no one believes her. I know how this turns out if no one pays attention; the story ends with her dying. Gone. No more because even her own parents wouldn’t take her seriously. I reply. I give her some number and emails to a hotline. I am triggered. I want to swoop in and save her but I can’t. I am here. I can only offer assistance, listen, believe her and hope she takes the next step. Fight.
Then a couple days later, I hosted a twitter party. I was really excited about it because it meant that I could giveaway a prize that I thought would make some little girl’s Christmas morning. That meant something to me because I know there are mothers out there who can’t afford to give their children anything for Christmas and I could help a mom give her child the best Christmas ever. It took a lot of work. I’ve been planning and negotiating this since August. Then I even got to give away 2 houses and then after it was all said and done, I was called a liar and a cheat by two participants who didn’t win. I know I shouldn’t take it personally but I do. Fight.
Then I read a post by an asshole man called, Five Reasons to Date a Girl with an Eating Disorder. You know, the disease that kills women, the disease that might be killing a 15-year-old in New Zealand right now and the disease that could have killed me. He makes light of this disease that I suffered from for 8 years; the very same thing that I will be in recovery from for the rest of my life; the disorder that kills women. He obviously has no understanding of it or is the most callous and unkind human walking the face of the earth. Fight.
Then today, November 24th, what would have been the first birthday of the baby I lost. I accidentally watched a 1st birthday video of a friend’s daughter and that’s when it hit me like a MACK truck. I should be celebrating but instead my lap is empty and my heart is heavy today. The air is thick and it’s hard to breathe. I don’t know when this will stop happening. I don’t know if we ever really get over our hurts in life. I think maybe they grow to be a part of us and change us. Flight
I’m here, hammering out deadlines and avoiding my reality. My heart is pretty fragile this week and the slightest push of pressure in the wrong way may break me completely. But in this moment I thank God for what I have; a man who loves me with all my flaws, children who I can hold in my arms a little longer than I need to today, a best friend who reaches out from across the universe to make sure that my heart is still in tact and work. Work that keeps my mind occupied and tears at bay.