three good things

i am a sucker for book stores. i can browse for hours, looking at spines, flipping through pages, a flood of "must read" lists all coming back to me. and yet i know that my pile of to-read at home is big enough that i don't buy anything new. usually don't. unless it's a really good sale, because then it would be almost a crime not to.

one thing i do end up with more often then not, though, is a new journal. for a long while i was writing in them in my scribbly cursive, jotting down fragments of sentences and thoughts and half formed ideas, almost a scratch pad for this mass of words that is my blog. i know i could do that all digitally, but like i prefer holding physical pages to holding an e-reader, i prefer writing with a pen to typing things like this. the only reason i have an online presence is because it's really hard to share words on paper across the miles, unless you're willing to pay for postage.

so over the years i've grown a lovely collection of blank journals. but i stopped writing for a long time, and even those empty pages started stacking up. i felt like i needed to do something with all of them, lest i waste their endless possibilities. and so i started a daily journal of sorts.

somewhere along the line, someone told me (or i read it or just made it up, even though it sounds like it might be true) that to change your outlook on things, you need to focus on the positives in life and not the negatives. the negatives in my life have built up over the years, drowning out the positives. and being who i am and what i am, i would focus on them. obsessively. i would ponder on past mistakes, years old, wondering if any still thought i was a terrible person for all the things i did half a life ago. or i thought about all the things that i would have done differently, all the things that i did wrong, all the things i didn't do and then inaction turned out to be the wrong course. the random thoughts that would keep me up at night for hours, that i couldn't shut out of my brain.

so i've decided to focus on the positives. again, not sure where i came up with the idea exactly, i decided that no matter how crappy the day there were at least three good things that happened. then i would write those three good things down. so instead of my journals chronicling my angst and worry and fears, i would write down the good that happened in hopes that those things would be all i would remember.

i started on new years day, and am now more than halfway through the year. being me, i didn't keep it up everyday. there have been many times where i would sit down and try to remember my past week, thinking on all i did on those days, trying to come up with the good things to write and remember. and there have been a few occasions where i couldn't come up with three things, a few days only have two. i'm really not sure this little project has helped me much, but i do know that down the line, when the years wash some memories away, i will be able to pick up this particular journal and have good memories come back. so it's hard to remember, and some days are a struggle to come up with items to write, but i know my future self will thank me, somewhere down the line.

13 years

i am not sure how it happened, but i woke up this morning and realized today is my 13 year wedding anniversary. it's still boggles my mind. it also happens to be the 15 year anniversary of our first date, because back then we were super sappy and decided to marry on our dating anniversary.

ok, full disclosure, i wasn't super sappy. i'm not still. but for whatever reason, the people i knew felt like remembering when you went on your first date was an important milestone, as was when you had your first kiss and your first... everything else. but i'm terrible at dates, so i decided to make it simple for myself and have just one anniversary date. especially since i knew there would be eventual children's birthdays to remember and i have a habit of losing my calender. so that is the real reason we picked this date to get married.

well, i picked it. my hubby back then didn't care what the date of the ceremony was, as long as it was happening. like i said, i'm not super sappy, never was never will be i suppose, but he is and always was. he likes to say that he knew from the moment he saw me that he would marry me. and he did try for a very long time. like he kept asking me to marry him early on. i didn't exactly put him off, i just told him i wanted to take it slowly. so we dated for a while. then, because i'm very particular about my home environment, we moved in together to see if we could successfully share a space. and things seemed to go along pretty well so i decided that we might as well get hitched.

i was very practical back then, i tried to be very rational, and there are benefits to being married, through jointly filing taxes and sharing health insurance and such, and so because we got along so well, i said yes. less then six months later, we were married at a very intimate ceremony that we planned and paid for ourselves. honestly, i do have some regrets over how we handled "our special day," but i never regret saying yes.

as someone with a dark history like mine, i had very few qualifications when it came to finding someone to spend my life with. first and foremost was someone that would always be there for me. they didn't have to be the best person for the job, or the most qualified, or even the most capable, but i needed them to be there, to keep trying no matter what happened and to never give up. because i know how crazy and terrible and wonderful life can be, and i needed someone who would help drag me through the bad times and stand by me through the good times. i never needed fiery passion or butterflies in the stomach, i needed a rock and a support, and i knew i had that when i met my husband all those years ago.

and there have been trials and hardships, dark times and tragedies. we haven't always gotten along, but we've always been together. and there have been many good times too that we've celebrated together, wondrous joys that i never thought i'd find in this life. intense emotions can sometimes fade over time, but i knew that finding someone who grounds me and supports me and can lift me up when i need it, would help me get more out of life than i ever thought possible.

tragedies and emergencies

back when i was in high school, i went on a back packing trip with my church youth group. after we had made camp, the leaders decided we should explore the area, which included crossing a 30 foot wide creek that was nearby. the water was only up to our knees, but the bottom was covered with large rocks that proved to be very slippery and the current in the middle was stronger than anyone thought it would be. we linked arms to try and steady ourselves when we were halfway across and realized it was probably a very stupid idea to be attempting. i was last in line, and when i slipped i let go of the hand i was holding and there was no one left to grab me. the current was too fast and too strong for me to stand up, but fortunately i had the presence of mind to point my head up stream and swim at an angle toward the shore. it turns out i was very lucky, because i ended up 30 yards downstream from where i fell, and there was only 10 yards between me and serious rapids. had i panicked, not kept a level head and tried to swim to shore, i surely would have drowned.

fast forward a number of years to a quiet afternoon at home. fishie was only a few weeks old, and i had just finished feeding her and put her down for a nap. my hubby was sleeping, as he had work that evening, and the boys were playing in their bedroom. suddenly i heard a loud crash and then crying. honestly, this was nothing new, as the boys were getting into the stage where they were starting to play rough. and then dear lumpy came walking down the hallway, crying. it wasn't a normal cry, it was a true cry of pain. he showed me his arm, and i could see where bone was trying to stick out of his skin and the whole forearm was at a strange angle because he had dislocated it from his elbow. i freaked out, i completely forgot what i should do in that kind of situation, and so i took him and we woke up his dad with the immortal words "does this look right?" after my dear hubby was full awake, which didn't take long given the situation, he took charge and sent me with lumpy to the e.r., where they set his bone and gave him a cast and sling. and the only reason i went instead of my much calmer husband is because i have all of the important medical history and information memorized for all of our children.

i wanted to share these lovely stories from my past because of the tragedies that seem to be happening more and more often in our world these days, and the wonderings of "what would i do in that situation?" because, unfortunately, i know what i would do, or at least how i would act. if it was only me, i'd be fine. when tragedy befalls my kids, i temporarily forget which way is up.

the truth is my family has been through an unfortunate number of tragic situations, and i wish that i could be calm throughout. invariably, i freak. eventually i will calm down and be the rock that is needed. still, because i know that i'm not so great in an emergency, i am trying to be prepared. so i plan what to do, and i go over those plans with my husband and my kids. they know where to go and who to call, and because the kids will probably act like me, they know where the important numbers and info are written so they don't have to worry about having everything memorized. i haven't gone all the way with fully packed bug-out bags, but that's really only because we have just enough money to live day to day. if i had enough left over, i'd definitely buy for tomorrow. as is, i plan. and wonder and worry and hope for the best. we know not what the future holds, but i will do my best to make sure we survive it, as calmly as i can.

cherishing mementos vs. hoarding stuff

at the moment, i am spring cleaning and organizing closets, and i remembered i had this and never posted it. i wrote it last june, when we were moving into the house we're in now. i am still no better about not holding onto things for reason only worthwhile to me...

are you tired of hearing about my moving adventures? yeah, i'm kind of tired of talking about them too. but, the fact is that it is the all consuming entity of my life right now. and, if i don't talk about it nicely like this, i'll probably just start randomly screaming on street corners, holding up signs that say "no more cardboard!" made out of cardboard, of course. because when you're yelling on street corners, it helps to get your point across if you look extra crazy.

my point of this post is that i have lots of stuff. too much stuff by some people's reckoning. but i'm trying to get better about all the random crap i keep. there have been boxes of things that haven't moved into the new house, they went straight to the dump or the donation pile. and there have been boxes that i've opened, and instead of trying to find homes of all contained there-in, i have gotten one of our lovely contractor bags (the 70 gallon kind designed to hold bodies), and filled it with all manner of stuffs.

and sometimes, the boxes are filled with things that i just look at and wonder why they got packed in the first place. those are the easy boxes to deal with, because there's no attatchment to them. it's the other boxes that are harder to figure out. ones that are filled with things that i don't really want, but feel like i need in some way. or it's filled with things that are still perfectly good and in working order, but nobody else wants, so i feel like i need to hold onto it, just in case.

just in case is kind of my downfall. that phrase is what does me in. because there have been boxes filled with old books or toys, or perhaps my wedding decorations from years ago, perfectly fine things that could totally be reused, but nobody else wants. so i think about getting rid of that stuff. and then, of course, i think that maybe tomorrow i'll need it, absolutely have to have it, so i should hold onto it. mind you, i haven't needed any of it in years and years, but tomorrow may be different! i made suddenly need to decorate my yard with frilly paper streamers, or absolutely have to set up a tea party for 20 stuffed bears, whose origins i no longer remember. so i have this burning desire to hold onto things, just in case.

that feeling is honestly easier to overcome than the other side of my problem. because i've become rational enough to understand that if i haven't used it in more than three years, or even gotten it out of the box it's stored in for more than three years, chances are i'm not going to need it. and if some random and crazy "just in case" moment comes up that i absolutely need it, i will go and buy a new version. because the truth is, in real today money, none of it is terribly expensive to replace.

the other side of things are the boxes filled with stuff that i deem irreplaceable. stuff that isn't worth anything to anybody else, but that i feel i must hold onto, lest i forget. they are boxes filled with physical memories. and yet, i'm getting to the point where i realize i don't need to save everything. still, it's very hard to figure out what is worth saving for all of time, and what are things i can let go of. because this is really where my problem lies, i want to save everything, and given the space, i know that i would.

ok, so honestly, my problem is that, even though i don't have the space, i try to save everything. like my closet is filled more with stuff i want to hold onto then clothes for me to wear. and the crazy part is, i am perfectly fine going through my clothes and getting rid of the things i don't use, so that i just enough "nice" outfits to get me through maybe a week.

and i can step back and realize that there is something slightly twisted in that viewpoint. but it's really very hard to get rid of the things you can never replace. like the boxes of drawings and art the boys made me, i have a box for every year that they were in school, starting in preschool. i've also saved all their writing and test and report cards. not that i know what i'll ever do with any of it, because i have a funny feeling they'll never want it. i also, for about twenty years, saved every card, birthday or thank you or congratulations, i ever got. i realized it was a silly thing to do, to save every card, so i stopped, but i still have a whole box from when i was still saving that i just can't bring myself to get rid of. and of course there are my notebooks. two boxes worth. most of them are a testament to my craziness. i finally was able to get rid of a box of disks; 20, filled to capacity with randomness, 3.5 inch diskettes to be precise, and the only real reason i was ok with getting rid of them was because i couldn't find the program i needed to open them anymore.

harder still to part with, but easier to rationalize why i keep them, are all the bits and broken things from all the people i'll never see again. i have a jewelry box filled with odds and ends of broken necklaces and bracelets, many from my grandmother who died years ago, some from friends i'll never see again. the hat from the hospital nursery, and pictures and scribbles and other things, all from my dear niece we lost too soon. and then there is the most random box, with a license plate and an old copy of macbeth and all the bits from high school physics projects and all the photos i took and some i stole from photo albums, all the things that remind me of my brother. and so many other random things from all the people i've lost and are gone forever.

so yes, i suppose that's why i really save all that i do. because i'm afraid to forget. memories are not something i can rely on. they twist and confuse me. my mind plays tricks on me. it's really the part of me that i know is not quite right, the part that can't keep the past straight. but with physical things, it's easier to hold them and remember what really happened.

i'm not dead yet

i know i know i know... i'm really bad at this writing thing.

or maybe i'm just bad with consistency and follow through.

or maybe i'm just at a loss of words that i want to share. over sharing is a problem, but then that leaves me with the "how much is too much" issue. so i err on the side of caution and don't say anything at all.

and then i'm silent for weeks at a time. which is honestly lame and pathetic.

i'm trying, i really am. i'm working through issues, i'm dealing with my problems, i'm tackling this crazy life thing head on.

i'm also going to work on my own time line. i'm not going to do things when i think i should, or how i'm supposed to. because seriously? i make the rules here. i don't know why i care so much what others think if i do things differently, or wrong, or strangely. as long as i stay true to me, what does it matter what others think?

well honestly, it matters tons what others think to me. my head is still back in high school with the worries over what the cool kids will say. it's what makes me bite my tongue and be overly careful what i say. the internet is forever, right?

i know this might not make sense to anyone but me, but this line of thinking is logical in my own head. it's something i'm working on changing, it's something i'm trying to fix. but it's hard. and a long process. and maybe baby steps is where it's at. and posting more here is the first step.

and the second step is no more beating myself up over the fact that i'm not posting often, or as much as i should, or as much as i think that i should.

no promises of posting this time. just that i will try to be better. because really, that's all anyone can do.

sick kids that are not sick

so you might not think it from looking at him, but my dear lumpy is frail and sickly. like seriously, just because he's bigger then almost everyone else his age, he seems to get sick a lot. but he's a trouper and deals with it well. after so many years of taking so many meds everyday, he's kind of gotten used to popping pills and chugging shots out of medicine cups and taking his puffer when he needs it.

and he's been feeling so much better lately. in fact, we've been able to wean him off of almost everything that he was taking on a daily basis. he only has to take his allergy medicine, and soon we get to stop that until spring. of course we still have to monitor him closely, because if he starts to slip, the it's back to the regime of puffs and pills.

still, i worry about him and his health. part of it is because there is so much unknown with his sickness, the hope has always been he'd grow out of whatever was the cause, but there was never anything definite beyond that hope. the other, bigger part that causes me worry is that i feel responsible for how everything was handled in the very beginning. he was young and had the flu. i was in contact with his pediatrician, and we pushed fluids and gave tylenol and i decided to wait a few days to see if he got worse. and then he collapsed and we took him to the er and all hell broke loose. and i still feel like it was my fault, because i couldn't see how sick he was, and didn't realize how bad it had gotten, and i should have been able to protect him from getting sick in the first place.

ah mommy guilt, does it ever really get better?

anyway, fast forward to a few days ago when he started to complain that his tummy didn't feel good. and then he had to keep going to the bathroom. the week before his sister had come down with a terrible stomach bug, and i wasn't surprised that he was feeling the effects too.

part of me knew that it would pass. it was the kind of thing that antibiotics didn't help, but at least he was old enough and big enough i could give him something for his tummy, unlike poor fish who moaned and complained and took four hour naps. (also, pullups are great for some things, but they do not contain the big messes. lucky for me i had a blanket on the couch that day.) there was another part of me that was worried that this would develop into something more serious. and so i kept him home.

it's been two days of him "not feeling well." and of him chugging gatorade. but also he's been sitting and watching cartoons and chasing the cats and playing video games. and complaining that he's bored and wants to ride his bike outside. and not once did he lose his appetite, unlike fish who refused to eat.

so i realized earlier today that, though he was sick, he is also a very smart boy. smart enough to play off my worry and guilt. and when the wrestling and jumping around rivals the activity levels on the best days of summer vacation, i know he's not all that sick. so i gave him an ultimatum: if he was well enough to go outside and play with his brother this afternoon, then he was well enough to go to school tomorrow.

and guess who's not missing his math test tomorrow?

oh poodles

any parent of a small child, or a child that once was small, knows one fun little fact. in truth, it's something that anyone that has come in contact with a small child for any length of time probably knows. small children are parrots. not that they hang out with pirates and eat crackers, though mine would love that. what i want to talk about here is that small ones will repeat whatever you say.

sometimes it's funny. saying complicated words and phrases, and then hearing them repeated with a cute little toddler lisp is adorable. or when you have to have a serious talk with one kid, and the little one repeats your lecture, word for word, while standing right behind you. even better is when they copy your stance, hand on hip with one finger raised. it helps to remind you that your kids are only young for so long, and maybe making a huge deal about a messy room that you've told them to clean up for the millionth time is not as world ending as you previously thought.

and their parrot skills are strange at times. hearing them say phrases out of context is weird, but when they say things that are spot on, like "that is absolutely terrible" in response to your complaints about having to put away yet another load of laundry, is even weirder.

though what i really remember from when the boys went through this stage, and it is really brought to mind with my dear fish just entering it, is that they will repeat all the things you don't want them to say. when bumble was around two, you could get him to say anything. in fact, it was his favorite game. it was cute when we'd watch old kung fu movies and he'd yell along and swing a fake sword. it was way less cute when he'd repeat at the dinner table things he might have heard me mention in traffic. and that's what dear fish is doing now: she's telling the boys that "daddy is going to kick your ass" for doing something wrong. not that it ever actually happens, but perhaps it's something she's heard the boys threatened with on more than one occasion.

and so, to combat her developing the vocabulary of a well seasoned sailor, my family and i have tried to use words that sound like the ones we really want to say. like fudge. or dumpster (my sister's favorite). and i've started to use "oh poodles" for just about everything. because even if fishie repeats poodles, it sounds innocent no matter how it comes out. unlike fudge, which if slurred by a two year old just right, still sounds like the f-word we're trying not to say.

the strange things is that now i say it even when i don't have to. even when i'm around other grown ups, or even just by myself, i still say poodles. which i guess isn't so bad, it's safer to be so used to saying it that i won't slip up and say something i shouldn't. at this stage, i'm trying to expand fish's vocabulary in good ways, with words like probably and fantastic. learning all those other words sounds like a job for poppop.

please, help and donate

i keep reading posts and articles written by those affected in new york and new jersey by hurricane sandy, and my heart just breaks for them. i remember what it was like to be evacuated, and not allowed home. and then getting back when the water finally goes down, and surveying the damage, when everything smells like sewage and diesel fuel. and realizing how absolutely lucky you were that most of your stuff stayed dry while your neighbors lost their home. and how grateful you were that you had people to help get you back on your feet and a warm, safe, dry place your whole family could call home. also, how hard it is to explain to your kids that sometimes bad things happen in this world, and all we can do is prepare the best we can for the hard times and hope that it's enough.

it's novemeber already, and that is most absolute favorite time of year. and with it comes thanksgiving, which i consider the best holiday of all. but i also realize how hard that will be this year for those hardest hit but this natural disaster. thanksgiving is a time to get together with friends and family, and talk about how grateful you are for all the blessing of the past year. and how does one do that when they don't have a place to gather, and they aren't feeling particularly blessed?

this is the time when we all need to come together, no matter who and what we believe. as a society, we the people need to come together to support each other. we can take small steps and perform little acts of kindness with our own hands for those that need it most. and so, this rambling post is my plea for those that can to donate if they're able. here is the red cross's site, though there are others that are also doing good works.

i know i should just stop reading all the terrible shock-style news articles, but i can't. it's like a scab i like to pick at, one that still hasn't quite healed. before and during sandy, my kids were understandably upset, and i tried to explain to them that we would get through it all together, just like before. and then the storm passed us, and it was nothing. but it's not always so easy for life to return to normal. i still remember (an older post about what i went through with tropical storm lee).

righteous indignation and martyrdom

i love my husband for so many reasons, more than i will list here and now. but one of the main qualities that drew me to him in the very beginning is that i knew he was what i was lacking. like puzzle pieces fitting together, he complimented my personality, filling in parts that weren't there. and he still does, sometimes to excess.

i don't get mad. or if i do, i don't really show it. i learned that, in most cases, there is no point in getting mad. just because somebody does something that upsets me, showing that i am angered doesn't help to resolve the situation. at certain times, it would escalate things, with them knowing that they had upset me. there was nothing i could do to improve things, because i was not in control of the situation. if they knew that they could make me feel bad, it just gave them more control and power and sadistic delight. forcing me to endure horrible experiences was fun for some. yes, i was surrounded by real assholes in my past.

from those humble (horrible) beginnings, i learned that getting angry serves no purpose. if i can change the situation, i will try. if i can improve things or up and leave, i will. but railing against the cruelty of the world does nothing but tempt the fates to show me what they can really do. and yes, sometimes i might give up too easily, thinking i can't change things, i just accept them and move along. in those cases, a little anger might serve to motivate me.

in those cases, that is where my dear husband steps in. he gets angry, a lot. he shouts his fury to the heavens, he yells back at the storms. he is quick to anger, seeing unfairness in so many places. but then, too, his anger leads him to want to rage quit. in this way, in dealing with the stresses of life, we are opposites. opposites that compliment each other.

where he feels anger, i feel patience. where he is moved to furious activity, i attempt understanding. but then too, i make excuses, not allowing myself to believe that people are truly cruel, just that there must be extenuating circumstances that drive their actions. and then also, he is willing to fight for us and for our rights, he is willing to stand up and work for just treatment. i am willing, in most things, to make myself subservient to others, to be accommodating, to be unselfish to the point of sacrifice.

still, even though i am not moved to anger, i think his furies are excessive at times. sometimes people have good reasons for their actions, though he thinks of it more like excuses than explanations. and sometimes he gets angry on my behalf. things happen, and he feels like i should be upset by the whole situation, and i'm not. or not upset enough. and so he rails against those that have wronged me. or there are times where life is just not fair. with school and bills and work and all the normal demands of life, he gets upset. but there is nothing we can do to change certain things, life is just unfair sometimes, as much as it sucks to admit. we need to accept that fact and just keep swimming, and eventually we will get through.

and so, there are times where i wish my husband would be more even tempered. just like i know there are times where he wishes i would be more excitable. but together we balance each other, and i thank my lucky stars for that.

forgive and forget

*a post from my archives. something that was written and never got published, but i just didn't have the heart to delete it. so here it is, in all it's crazy glory.*

i have been hurt in the past. really hurt really badly by people that i trusted. maybe i was just an easy target, maybe i had it coming, maybe i did something wrong. or maybe i'm just making excuses for them, and they really are just jerks. whatever the case, i know that i am damaged, and i am fighting to overcome that every day.

the problem i'm really having now is that i still have some of these people in my life. or rather, they have re-entered my life. and things are different now, we are different now. i am not the scared little girl i once was. they are not the vindictive people they were either. so now, we're trying to get along, trying to move past all the hurt and the pain and the damage.

there are two big problems with that though, two things standing in the way of moving on. or rather, of me moving on. the first is that, though they don't act like they once did and they don't dothe things they used to do and treat me how they used to treat me, i still get no sense from them that they are sorry for what they had done. i really don't believe that they think they did anything wrong in treating me how they did. just because it's not how they treat me now, doesn't mean that i'm ok with how they treated me then.

i almost feel like i want them to apologize for how they acted. and i know i could tell them i want them to apologize, but i just don't think that would do any good. they don't think they did wrong, so i doubt they'd apologize. also, part of me doesn't want to ask for an apology because i really don't want to have to explain why i want one. i don't want to have to bring up the past, i don't want to relive all those awful things. i would rather bury those memories deep down inside and pretend none of it ever happened and just move on. because it really seems like they've forgotten everything that went on, and i feel like i should too.

the other problem is that i can't forget. i can't just pretend it never happened. well, i can pretend, but there are times when i look at them and it all comes back. so i'm on edge in their presence. i am alert and ready to bolt. so being around them is a stressful experience. even though i'm trying my hardest not to let it affect me, it is.

i guess, when these two issues combine, them not feeling like they did anything wrong and me feeling nervous around them, it makes me wonder if i'm nervous for no reason. i remember what they did, but those memories are clouded by time and space and so many other experiences. maybe i'm not remembering things correctly. maybe i'm confusing some of their actions with somebody else. maybe it never really happened at all. it would explain why they don't act at all remorseful for their previous actions, because there really is nothing for them to feel bad about.

and so we're at the point where i continue to try and pretend it never happened, because maybe that's exactly what they're doing. or it really never happened, and i'm truly the crazy one. either way, i don't think i'll be saying anything. i'd much rather suppress than confront, it's just my way. i need to try to forgive and just move on, accept that i can't change my past and let it be. they are different, i am different, and it won't happen again. this time, i won't allow it.

hikikomori

i did many interesting things this weekend, but the most surprisingly fun thing happened on saturday. the family and i went to this picnic party thing at the house of a fellow cubby parent, and everything went so much better than expected.

let me back up a bit and explain that i wasn't expecting the get together to be bad or anything. no, i knew from who the hostess was and some of who were going to be there, it would be a good time. i was more worried about me, and how i deal, and how absolutely bonkers i can be.

like really, most people have no idea. poor hubby does. but then he's at a loss as to how to help and what to do when i start going off about such things. so he asks what he can do, and i have no answer for him. because seriously, unless he can help me step out of my own head or magically make some xanax appear, there's not much to do but step back and let me be crazy for a bit.

and i do hate this about myself. like absolutely wish i wasn't like this. and it's hard to talk about sometimes. but then, i feel like, if this is who i am, then maybe it's best to put it out there, you know, as a warning. so that way all the normal people i meet and greet on a regular basis won't be caught off guard. and yes, i know there's therapy and doctors that help and stuff. i did that for many years, for other issues. but this social anxiety stuff, i know i can kick its butt.

because i wasn't always like this. i never liked to be the center of attention, but i knew how to handle social situations. there was always proper etiquette to fall back on, to help me know what to say and what to do. i just had to take the first step out and i was ok.

and then for a while, it was easy. i liked to be in the limelight. and i think it was because i didn't care what people thought of me. i had a close group of friends, and we loved each other, faults and all. so it didn't matter if random people thought i was a little off, because those who mattered most to me were there.

slowly, though, things and life happened. i lost touch with those i was closest to. the years slipped by and i moved and changed and adopted the role of a wife and mother. and then it wasn't so much me but we, my hubby and i.

still, for whatever reason, my brain never quite settled down. and i looked at the friends we had as his mostly and mine by association. and so i was on edge. because i was afraid i would do something or say something, and then everyone would look down on me. or i would embarrass him, which is something i never wanted to do. so i found it easier to withdraw from social situations then join in them. because if i said or did something stupid and foolish, it wasn't me that people would look at, it was him. and the very last thing i want to do in this world is make more trouble and stress for my dearest hubby. he has quite enough on his own without my help at getting more.

and so i made the brilliant realization that if i never entered into social situations, there would be no way that i could shame myself, and my family by association. so i stopped going out and doing things, which was easy enough to accomplish with the excuse that i had little ones at home to take care of. and i know there was fun i missed out on, i was regaled with stories of the adventures that happened. i didn't experience the good times, but i also didn't have to experience the stress and worry and paranoia that went along with those times either. so i was content to stay at home and "miss out."

the problem, though, is that after years of staying home and avoiding as much human contact as possible, i am out of practice. i don't know how to make small talk or deal with others or simply act in social situations any more. in avoiding the small stresses of society for years, things have gotten to the point of dizzying panic attacks when now i am forced out into the world. and i am forced out, because the boys are older and my husband is busy, so i have to pick up the slack and go and do things.

and it's my fault for avoiding this for so many years. had i just continued to subject myself to company continually, then i would have gotten used to people by now, like i used to be. instead, i chose the hermit life, which didn't last, and now i have to re-acclimate myself all over again. and though i don't like, i know i can do it, i just need people to be patient with me and my little quirks. and overlook the fact that i'll probably be over in the corner hyperventilating into a paper bag.

sticks and stone may break my bones....

...but words will scar and kill me.

and oh the words and thoughts that go flying around my head. things i've heard, that were actually said to me, in another place and time. though, truth be told, some were said in a much more recent time. i've tried to leave all those mean and evil people behind, but still, their words stuck. and through some wicked twist of fate, i can't remember names and historical date and grammar rules, but these things that have been said to me, these i can't forget:

i am stupid and lazy and ungrateful. i am worthless and hopeless and useless. i'll never be able to change, i'll always be this pathetic, this damaged. why try? i can't fight my inevitable failure. i am always the same, full of  the same lame excuses, the same ineffective attempts at fixing things. i should really know my place and stick to it. and i should also know what my responsibilities are and try not to mess things up completely. or let everyone down, as usual. because don't i know how lucky i am to be in a place like this? don't i remember how it all began, how terrible it all was. how bleak. how dark. do i really want to go back there? don't i know how much worse it could be? then i better try harder at changing. and always remember to thank my lucky stars i'm not back there.

what's funny, in a dark sort of way, is that growing up i didn't realize how wrong it was to let people talk to me like that. when i was young, i knew all about physical and sexual abuse, how bad it was and what to do if it was happening to you. but back then, nobody ever told me there was such a thing as emotional abuse.

i thought, for a very long time, that certain mean people said stuff like that to everybody. i knew they were mean, but i thought that i just had too thin skin to let it all bother me so. the other not so funny part was that there were times where i was so desperate for attention and companionship, i willingly subjected myself to their attacks and abuse, just so i wouldn't have to be alone. and like someone who was physically abused and stays in that toxic relationship, part of me wondered if i didn't deserve it. if they weren't being mean, but actually kind, telling me the things i needed to hear so i could try and better myself.

it's kind of strange now, to think what i put myself through because of others. how everything could have been so much different if somebody had noticed what was going on and actually told me it didn't have to be like that. which is also why, i suppose, i worry so much about my own children. because i still remember the fine line between playful teasing and outright meanness. and i don't want them pushed across it. and i certainly don't want them doing the pushing.


**something i wrote a few months ago and never posted. it ties into the previous post**

the one thing i wish i knew when i was younger

when i was growing up, way back in the '90s, it was a big thing to talk to kids about being careful around strangers. stranger danger was super important, so i was careful to avoid shady older men at the mall who might have been following me (they never were), and random ice cream trucks that would show up in my neighborhood at 9pm (never happened either), and people at school who looked like they didn't belong (you had to drive to my school, so it was obvious if somebody didn't belong).

as i grew a bit older, around high school time, there were after school specials about the dangers of abusive relationships. i was told again and again how no one, no matter what, had the right to hit you or touch you in any way you didn't want to be touched. because physical abuse and sexual abuse is super bad and super serious.

one thing no one ever talked about when i was growing up was emotional abuse. seriously, i didn't even know that was a thing until after i was married. growing up i was so desperate for attention i surrounded myself with some really horrible people. no one ever laid a hand on me, but the things they said were awful.

it's not like i didn't say anything, in the beginning. but i don't think the grown ups around me really understood that it was abuse either, because all i used to hear was that it was just words and not a big deal. the mantra "sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," was something i was told more than once.

and i tried to find better people to hang around with. but when you're told constantly that you are worthless and useless and good for nothing, it's hard not to believe it. and when the people that tell you those things also tell you that you should be lucky and thankful that they actually want to be your friend because you're too pathetic to find anybody else, you kind of believe them too. and it just created a circle of abuse and horrible words.

now, there is a huge campaign against bullying in schools. there has been some light shead on the problem. about how dangerous words can be. about how constant taunting in schools is can be just as violent as being beat up. and how lasting the effect of hearing those hateful words can be. because seriously, some of those words stick with you forever.

even now, when things get dark, i hear those words from long ago circle around through my head. those dark whispers about how stupid and pathetic i am. how worthless i am, a waste of space. how i am nothing now and will never amount to anything in this life. how i drag down everyone around me, and i should thank my lucky stars people even want to associate with me. how it's a miracle i haven't ended it sooner, and really i should just grow up and get it all over with because what is the point of living if you're as lame as i am?

but they're just words, said by those that used to be closest to me, though they still sometimes get stuck on repeat in my head some days. and even growing up, part of me knew it wasn't right to stay with people who said such things to me, but there were times i was so lonely that i thought it was worth it to stay with them. because even though their speech was filled with hate, at least they never beat me, right?

a new beginning... again part II

i did it again. and i kept telling myself i wouldn't do it again. i went and disappeared for weeks and left my poor little corner of the interwebs all sad and lonely.

but i had a good reason. or i have a good excuse. or maybe it's a lame excuse, but it's totally true, so that's got to count for something, right?

so see, what happened is this: we moved. seriously. except that anybody that's been reading along with my rambling for the past couple of posts would know that. moving was a very slow process for us. we moved some stuff, and fixed some stuff, and then moved some more stuff. and then it got to the point where almost all our stuff was in the new place, which of course meant unpacking and organizing. which fell squarely on my shoulders.

not that my dear husband didn't try to help, but really it's not stuff he knows where to put because it's not stuff he uses. half of it was probably stuff he was wondering why we had in the first place. though i did get a little upset with him by saying everything that wasn't his or the kids was automatically mine. seriously? because i don't think the bath towels or the glasses we drink out of or broom are solely mine, it just so happens that as the one that is home the most, i am the one that uses that stuff the most, so i'm the one that needs to know where it's new place is in the new house.

anyway, unpacking and organizing was a long process. a process that is technically not quite done yet. but still, it's something i hate doing. it is on my long list of panic inducing activities. so i had to take things slowly to avoid freaking out. because besides setting up the new house, i also had to feed and cloth and diaper all the random little people that also inhabit this space, and i can't do that effectively while sitting in a corner breathing into a paper bag.

so, when i wasn't taking things out of boxes and shoving them in closets, or making more koolaid for the millionth time that day, i was mindlessly surfing around, looking at stupid memes mostly, trying to avoid thinking about anything serious. which also meant i was neglecting to follow along with all the blogs i normally keep up with. not that i read particularly serious stuff, but it sometimes gets to the point where keeping up with all the new content is more work than fun. and i had enough work in my life at the moment. so i stopped reading.

and because i stopped reading, i stopped tweeting, because those activities go hand in hand for me. most of the people i follow are authors of blogs i also follow. and it's one way i interact with those that follow me. but if i wasn't reading new post, i didn't have much to tweet about.

also, because i wasn't reading and i wasn't tweeting, i wasn't really inspired to write. so nothing here. which just turns into a vicious cycle of nothingness. but when you're in the mindset that can't handle anything more stressful than a lolcat, the nothingness makes perfect sense. at least to me.

so there you have it, the "why" for the lack of anything new here.

but wait, you might say, this is new, right? a sign of better times perhaps? and all i can say is i hope so. things have settled down. and hopefully i'll be able to get into some sort of summer time routine, and that will also help to make things go more smoothly. until then, i hope to take things one day at a time, because really, that's all a sane person can do. and i like to pretend i'm mostly sane.

under pressure and surrounded by fixers

i think the need to vent is totally normal. when we're stressed and freaking out, or so overwhelmed we don't know what to do, sometimes we need to take a step back and talk it out with somebody. if nothing else, sometimes getting a fresh perspective on your troubles is all you need to get your head back inline.

but sometimes it's hard. because you're embarrassed or ashamed or afraid to admit what you're going through. or you think that people won't understand. or maybe you've deluded yourself into thinking that if you don't talk about it or admit it's a problem, then it will just go away.

and sometimes it does. but not because it wasn't a problem in the first place. rather more likely it was just one of those things that sucks so much going through it, but you just have to ride the waves, because there's nothing you can do to change it or fix it or make it better. it sucks and it just is.

those types of situations are the worst, in my opinion. and i find myself in those all the time. that if i can just make it until a certain date, hold out until then, things will get better because that's the end date and it will be over.

unfortunately i seem to have surrounded myself with some people that don't look at problems like that. they look at any little thing that is wrong as something that needs to be shared and discussed, brought out into the light and brain stormed. most of all, any and all problems are ones that need to be fixed, right away and right now.

and sometimes problems aren't like that. and i'm certainly not like that. it's not that i enjoy suffering like a martyr, but i need to a chance to think on things and decide the best course of action before i'm inspired to move. because i have learned that sometimes a hasty action makes things worse.

the other side of it, with these fixers i have in my life, is that when they are not part of the problem, very rarely can they be part of the solution. especially if part of the problem is a relationship a person has with somebody else. you can't fix other people's relationships, you can only spur them to change themselves or change what's going on in their life. and if they are at a comfortable stage, where things might not be good but they are miles better then they were, that is just how things will be.

it's really hard, sometimes though, when i do want to vent, to release some of this pent up pressure and stress and worry. and though i might lash out or cry or scream, shake my angry fists at the sky or use sweeping hand gestures and knock things off the table, it's not that i want help or a magic solution. i just want to get some of these feelings out. but when you surround yourself with fixers, you don't really have that luxury. you have to choose your words carefully, because if you say too much or the wrong thing, they'll take it as a red flag, a sign that there is something wrong. and they will think there is something that needs to be done, something they can do, like a knight in shining armor, they will ride to the rescue.

but life really doesn't work that way all the time. and i wish it did, because i'm surrounded with enough knights that would come to my aid as a damsel in distress, that i would never have to worry about things again.

it makes me especially sad because it took me years to figure out that this is how things were, that there are problems to fix and problems that just cause you to bang your head against the wall. and you can keep banging away, but you won't break the wall, the only way to get through is to wait for somebody to unlock the door. and there are those that would willing help bang away at a wall with you, but if they're not the ones with keys, they can't do much more good than you by yourself.

i know others in this same situation. they are surrounded by fixers, we share some in fact. but they don't always need fixers, they just need a shoulder to lean on. and as much as it might hurt to admit to themselves, they would do better to look for that shoulder somewhere other than the fixers they're so used to turning to.

co sleeping is not for me

first, let me explain for those that don't know, co sleeping is the practice of parents sharing their beds with their infants and young toddlers. some of the benefits are that it helps babies stay asleep and get back to sleep faster if they wake at night, because they are already next to their parents. also, it's easier when breastfeeding babies, because when they get up at night, everybody that needs to be together already is. lastly, those parents that work or can't be with their children all day are at least able to spend time with them at night, getting all the hugs and cuddles in that they can.

in truth, i don't like this practice, and don't subscribe to it. it was recommended that i try co sleeping when i was having so many problems breast feeding fishie. the thing is, i know myself, and i know that i am such a sound sleeper, and roll and move so much, that if i had my baby in bed with me, chances are i would roll or smush or something equally awful would happen to them. and that it part of the problem with co sleeping, which is why most doctors warn against it. studies show that babies get crushed. or, because they're so small, they can get themselves tangled in pillows and blankets and smoother themselves. i never tried co sleeping with my boys, i was always against it, and i really didn't want to do it with fish.

with the boys, from the outset, i set them up in their own bedrooms, in their own beds (really cribs), and they understood that is where they were supposed to sleep. when they came home from the hospital, they slept in the nursery right away, none of that sharing our bed or even our room. the crib was right across the hall from my bed, within sight if i left both doors open, and i felt that was the place they were supposed to be. and as they grew, because they were used to sleeping in their own bedrooms, i didn't have to worry about them wandering to find me if they woke up in the middle of the night. they stayed in their rooms, they didn't try to share my bed, and i liked that just fine.

unfortunately, fishie never quite got that message. it probably didn't help that maybe two months before we had to leave our old house and live with my mom, she just started sleeping in her toddler bed. she did not get used to it as quickly as the boys. when they were little, when it was time for bed, i would put them to bed and they would stay there. i might hear them wake up, but they were very good about putting themselves back to sleep. though the house that the boys were babies in had two floors, so when they would wake up, it was easier for them to go back to sleep then to try to make it down the stairs. the house that fish was a baby in was all one floor, and her room happened to be right next to the living room, so whenever she would wake up, she could stumble into where her dad and i were and climb on our lap instead of putting herself back to sleep.

another fun fact about my kids and toddler beds is that we put dear bumble in a toddler bed shortly after he turned one, simply because we needed the crib for lumpy. and then we got bunk beds and had bumble sleep on the top and lumpy sleep on the bottom when they were very young, because we had to turn the nursery into guest room for a guest that had to stay with us. so, thinking back, lumpy never actually made it to a toddler bed, he went straight from the crib to the bottom bunk. fish's transition was a more interesting story. one night, she woke up maybe an hour after we had put her down to sleep. dear hubby and i were letting her cry for a bit to see if she could get herself back to sleep. suddenly we heard a thump, and before we could even get up to see what had happened, she was standing in the living room, confused and still crying (she was completely fine, by the way). that was the point we realized she was big enough to climb out of her crib herself, and we converted it into a toddler bed, which she's been sleeping in since then.

fast forward almost a year, and we are almost to the point of moving out of my mother's house and into our own. which means, for the first time since september, fishie will be sleeping in her own room all by herself. at the moment, her toddler bed happens to be in the same room that my hubby and i are in, and any time she wakes up now, she just gets up and climbs in bed with us. it's very frustrating, because now that she's gotten bigger, she's become a bed hog and steals my blanket and pillows. more than that, i am worried how she'll do when we move to our new house. i know people that shared rooms with their babies and toddlers, and how hard it was for their children to transition into their own "big kid" room. i can remember hearing the stories about the fights and the tears, and how the kids wouldn't stay in their bed and would only sleep if they were with their parents. it's one of the main reasons i did everything i could to avoid it with my boys, but now i'm afraid i'll have to face that fight with my fish. and i'm not looking forward to it.

"its just me"... but not anymore

there are so many things i want to write here. things that are going on in my life. or things that are going on in my head. real things. personal things.

all too personal things.

because while i know this is my blog, with my thoughts and my feelings, it's not exactly anonymous. things said online have real world consequences. i know that all too well, it's a lesson i've learned over and over again. and i'm trying my best not to repeat it.

and yet, it always catches me by surprise when i'm talking with someone, physically with sounds and not just glowing words on a screen, and they reference something i've only written about and never said out loud.

for a very long time, my online persona was very different and very separate from who i was in real life. the things i'd say, the jokes and references and discussions of topics about things that would never come up in my real life, i loved it so. i built a place for myself, separate from my physical being. still, i was careful not to share too much or go too deep. the net is a haven for freaks, and though i enjoyed hanging out with them in cyber space, i didn't want them invading my real space. there was a line i didn't cross.

now though, that line is blurred. and i feel the need to be even more careful with what i say and how i act. my online persona can affect how people see me in the real world in this age of digital dependency. and so i was forced to give up my separate lives, to close the door on anonymity, to craft a more careful and well thought out internet identity. because whether i want it to be true or not, i can't pretend the other half doesn't exist. the people i interact with online are now the same people i see every day.

to be totally honest, it makes this so much harder. it was easier when i had the freedom to say whatever i wanted, because i knew no one was paying attention to my ramblings. i could be vague, or not so vague, rant about what was bugging me, get it out of my system, and move on with my day. now things are not so easy. no matter how ambiguous my descriptions, there are those that could figure out what and who i am talking about. so my online de-stressing could turn into real world complications, with hurt feelings and offenses taken, when all i was trying to do was get it out of my head so i could move on.

and the other side to all of this, the one that i forgot about and was recently reminded of, is that the internet is forever. the things we say and the images we upload, they are permanent. even if we erase them on our side doesn't mean that they weren't already shared or downloaded, saved or physically printed. so things typed in a temporary fit of anger or angst could live forever. and when it can be printed out in black and white, it's so much harder to take it all back. in this world of over-sharing, parts of our past have ways of catching up with us in the most unexpected ways. and it's not always so pleasant.

and so, though there are things i want to say and share, i know i need to hold myself back. because i don't want my words to haunt me. or to be brought up later. i want what i say and share here to be things i would tell my children. because these words will be here for them to find, and i want them to be proud of me.

six months ago

i was going to write a post yesterday about what i was doing six months ago. but i couldn't bring myself to do it. now i'm writing it at 230am, because these thoughts keep going around in my head and it's something i think i need to get out. so i am.

six months ago, i wasn't just stressing because i was trying to plan bumble's birthday party. he turned 8 exactly six months ago, and my mind really should have been filled with dinner and cake, balloons and decoration, and if i could throw a surprise party when it was just his family down here and if he would be surprised by it at all.

no, instead, six months ago, i was wading through muddy, gas and oil slicked water, trying to make it through my yard and into my house. tropical storm lee hit our area much harder than expected, and the water was coming up faster and higher than people thought. the day before i had packed up the kids and gone to my moms', because from there i could drive the boys to school if we needed to stay until the waters went down. we'd done it before when the creek behind my house flooded over the road, because if we didn't, we couldn't get out of our driveway.

and so, my dearest hubby and i drove around road closed signed, and had to explain to the police that stopped us how, in the rush to leave yesterday, i had forgotten a few things. and that's when we were told that our area was being evacuated. so it wasn't just a good idea that we were leaving, they were forcing us, and everybody else, to get out while we could. they said we had twenty minutes to grab what we could and then we had to leave.

so, six months ago, instead of baking all afternoon to making an amazing cake like i had planned, i was running through my house grabbing all the clothes i could, throwing them in bags and lugging them through greasy, sewage-smelling water to my car. and my husband was grabbing all the pictures off the walls and all my photo albums, all the memories we'd never be able to replace. (which is a funny thought in this digital age, that i couldn't get copies of my photo's because i'd lost the negatives) i went through and grabbed all the social security cards and birth certificates, the titles and loan documents and bank records, the old tax returns and W-2s, all the "important" papers that we'd need if we ever needed to file for anything from the federal government all the way down to the school district.

we grabbed everything that we could manage in a few suitcases and trash bags, and six months ago we were forced to leave our home, crappy as it was, not knowing if we'd ever see it again.

six months ago was also the day i realized that i don't do well in situations of stress. running through the house, trying to grab everything important and irreplaceable, was almost impossible to me. everything in my little house was irreplaceable and important, from the kids' pictures on the fridge to my tea set i had as a little girl. but i knew we couldn't take everything. so as we left i just hoped and prayed that my house would still be there when the waters went down.

and it was. and i know i was lucky, much luckier than even my neighbor who's house sat just three feet lower and they ended up losing everything. but still, it was hard. and i didn't lose anything that my insurance or FEMA considered valuable, but things are still gone that i can't get back.

six months ago, my life changed. everything for my family changed. and we're still trying to get things back on track. it's the hardest thing i've ever gone through, and continue to go through. and it's surreal sometimes, because i know most people don't even think about it. driving past my old house, seeing all the surrounding businesses open and coming back to life, everything seems normal. the only real reminders are the empty lots where condemned houses used to be. strange, gaping, empty spots while all around life goes on as usual, like six months ago never happened.

it takes an e-village, part 2: what to watch out for!

yesterday i was talking about finding help to parenting problems online. and how there is good and bad, helpful and hurtful. and today i'm going to talk about the hurtful.

there are two kinds of people that frequent those parenting sites, two kinds i hated, that i thought were damaging to other parents, especially those impressionable and unsure. the first was the type that, if you asked a question or shared your personal experience, they would jump on you and tell you that you were doing everything wrong. some would go so far as to say you would ruin your child if you continued. you were supposed to stop doing whatever it was that you were doing wrong and start doing things exactly like they told you to. not that they were experts, as in the kind with doctorates and degrees, they just claimed to be experts because they had been there, done that. these people are, in my opinion, awful. they weren't helping with their "i'm right and you're wrong" way of thinking. tearing someone down for the choices they make, especially when it's something so personal as being a parent, isn't helpful. no one knows their own child better then the parent, and to say that a parent is damaging their child because they aren't following your sage advice doesn't do them any good. at best, it's annoying, at worst it makes them second guess and question themselves and worry and stress. and all parents have enough worry and stress. every situation is different, every child is different, and to tell somebody what worked for you is fine, but to say that if they don't do it your way no matter what is just crazy. these kinds of parents need to take a step back and realize they're not always right.

the other kind of not helpful parent isn't really not helpful because they're being mean. it's more that i can't stand them for the image they project. some people have this online thing figured out. they have come to realize that what you post is the only part that others see. so if you only post the best parts, the perfect stuff, you can seem like a super hero to those that don't realize the view is filtered through rose colored lenses. which is fine, if they want to seem perfect, i'm not going to judge them for that, i wish i seemed perfect too. and i'm not going to blame the naive parent for not understanding they're not getting the whole picture when looking at these people. no, my problem lies when these seemingly perfect parents start saying how easy everything is. that if they can do it, why can't you? or, if they go so far as to say that they love being a parent, every gross and crazy and stress moment is wonderful sunshine to them.

now let me stop for a moment and clarify before people get too upset with me. i'm not saying that being a parent isn't great or wonderful. i'm just saying that being a parent isn't great 100% of the time. seriously, whether you've heard this before or you think i'm speaking blasphemously, i will be the first to admit that though i love and cherish my children, there are some days that i want to lock myself in the bathroom for 30 minutes if it will promise me peace and quiet. and thinking like that doesn't make me a bad mom. i would do anything for my kids, but that doesn't mean they don't get on my last nerve sometimes. but they are kids, it's what they do. and i also understand that being a mom is technically my job. being a parent is a job, even if it's not a full time job like it is for me, and there are very very few people that can say they love their job 100% of the time. and this is especially true with parenting, because no matter how much you were around kids before you had them, it doesn't matter because everything changes when you have your own. and every kid is different, with their own identity and their own challenges.

so that's why i have a problem with those happy sunshine people i've seen online. those perfect people that make everything look so easy and they always look so happy. the moms that handmake everything for their kids and pack them special organic lunches and spend all the one-on-one time that's recommended by doctors, and then they turn around and tell everybody how easy it is and if they can do it everybody should! i call shenanigans on them. they might really love being a parent, and they might really find it so super easy, but i doubt it. they can project that online because they only post the happiest of pictures or the best parts of their day. there are down and dirty times, every kids throws a tantrum at least once in their life, there's no parent that's gotten to sleep through the night since day one of their kids life, and it's harmful to make other new parents think that way. because new parents are stressed and sleep deprived and worried about making a mistake, and then if they stumble across these super parents, they might start thinking that they really are doing something wrong. because if perfection is possible for others, why not for them? and those kinds of thoughts don't help to alleviate stress or worry, it just feeds it.

the simple truth, in my mind, is that parenting is hard. it's the hardest thing anybody can do. you are responsible for making and shaping a life. you are raising the next generation that we're all depending upon. so no pressure, right?

and in this day and age, it really does take all the help one can get to get through some of the really hard patches. and it's nice to know that there are more people than just those you know in real life that you can go to for advice. but just like with everything else online, you need to be careful and evaluate the advice and opinions of strangers. even (and especially) mine.

it takes an e-village, part 1: me!

i'm sure that everyone has heard the phrase that raising child "takes a village." that to show kids the values of love and respect, of cooperation and kindness, it really takes more than one person or one family to demonstrate those concepts so that kids really get it.

before, parents were forced to rely on their friends and neighbors, colleagues from work and other parents from church or school. now, instead of having a physical village of people that you actually live near and see often in real life, parents are able to rely on a world wide village via the internet.

now this can be good or bad for many different reasons, one of which is that it all depends how the parent goes about getting all the information and advice they now have at their fingertips.

i suppose i should stop pretending and give some real and personal examples so you know what i'm talking about. first person is way easier for me than third person passive. or something.

anyway, before i got into this mommy blogging scene, which i'm not sure how "into" i qualify, i would seek out information and advice online. where i was living was rather removed, and i was very limited in my social circle. so though i would ask for opinions of the people that i saw, sometimes they told me things that just felt wrong for my family or situation. so i would pole the greater community through my computer, so see what others said.

i went in, seeking said opinions, ready with many grains of salt. i have a long and storied past with the internet, and i know how many people really do want to help and how many people really just want to force their thoughts and ideas down your throat as though they are the guru and expert.

sometimes, though, i would take the advice of people that i had never met, simply because the things they were saying made more sense to me personally then anything i had heard in real life. and also, after reading long articles or blog posts or messages from some of these others, i realized their situations was more like mine then any of my real family and friends.

so there was good and bad in talking and reading and discussing with people who lived across the state or across the country. and i was very careful, just because somebody says they're an expert online doesn't mean they really are. misrepresentation and reinvention of your personal self online is what it's all about to some people. and i am speaking from personal experience there, but that's a tale for another time.

all of this is not to say i plugged in completely and ignored my family or friends and their opinions and experiences. and sometimes i would ask for help and advice and gladly accept what they offered. but it was nice to be able to ask if i was doing it right and get validation, even if it was from mostly strangers.

eventually, i thought that maybe if i shared some of my personal experiences, i might in turn pay back those that helped me by helping others. so i joined a few parenting sites and i started this blog. and things went well for awhile. and then i started running into two of the most unhelpful types of parents there are on the web.

whether they were trying to be spiteful or hurtful on purpose i was never able to figure out, but they are one of the reasons i've started this blog over so many times. i couldn't take criticism, and they made me question what i was doing and who i was as a mommy. they made me feel guilt and more stress from all the possible wrong choices i was making and how i was going to permanently ruin my children. and it's just not ok to make people feel that way.

tomorrow i'll talk about the two kinds of damaging parents that i've found online. so hopefully you can be better informed and not fall into their wily, frustrating, traps.