I had to change the settings of this blog to adult content. Kind of hated to do it but after bringing up Gang Rape I really couldn't defend any other choice. Sorry that it makes an extra step, but life is ugly and I try to keep an accurate record, since that has fallen out of fashion in the media these days. As usual I am flying by the seat of my pants and still have a lot of stuff to learn about blogging.
I assume this is obvious.
I found the missing earring this morning. If you love something, let it go...........Remember that poem, circa whenever you were in about 6th grade? If it comes back to you, it is yours. This works. It has returned to me once again, as many things have. :) Not everything, though, and thanks to such life experiences I now have MUCH material to blog (insert evil laugh, picture Cruella DeVille, but with an electric cigarette). Just kidding. Probably (insert another evil laugh here). A happy ending here, for today, and that is enough.
I am still smoking the lowest nicotine cartridge in my magic stick. I am too afraid to go to just water vapor. I tell you this with the full knowledge that it is also ridiculous. Apparently, I am perfectly comfortable doing completely ridiculous things out of fear, despite a formidable logic that resides in my brain. What can I say? I'm an enigma, a work in process, an addict, an extrovert, even if I'm only talking to strangers on the internet, tired, MANY things, some as yet undiscovered. At least I'm honest. As a kid I was always the first one on the roller-coater, the first one to jump off the big cliff, the one who wasn't afraid to say pretty much anything. Apparently I used up all my fearlessness in my youth. I am working on it, more than that I cannot do.
I have started saving posts with just general ideas in them as they occur to me and live with the constant fear that I have posted them by mistake. Paranoia can be your friend, and I find it useful in small doses. It can be a really good motivator if used properly.. at least I think I am using it properly. Why? What have you heard?
Just kidding.
Little paranoia joke......
Ok, I'm done. I have a bag of candy to devour.
Showing posts with label non-smoking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label non-smoking. Show all posts
Mar 2, 2011
Jan 29, 2011
Mothering is a two way street
Two and a half years ago The Beautiful Redhead was my oldest child at home, the Grand Finale had turned 11, and life had kind of settled down to a routine that I was able to keep up with. My kids were out of the "little" stage and I could come home and actually sit down, even LAY down, on the couch if I wanted.
I had been through the stages of early motherhood, where I was driven to have everything perfect, or at least as near as possible to perfect as I could get it, and thought everything needed to be clean and put up at all times. Four kids will get you through that stage a little faster than one. I do not have any science (!) to back this up, but you can take it from me that it is true.
I noticed, though, that now that I *could* take it easy, that's all I ever did. My house wasn't as clean as it used to be, true, but it didn't NEED to be as clean as it used to be. And Lord knows the kids didn't appreciate or even seem to notice if I did clean it. I was drifting, so to speak, and was not concerned that I was going in a bad direction. I just noticed the change. As women at a certain stage of life tend to do.
Most of my life it seemed like "life" was something that was coming at me constantly and it was usually all I could do to keep up with it. Now there seemed to be a lull, time to look around and actually see what was going on instead of having to react to crisis situations all the time.
The Beautiful Redhead was working with a girl who had just had her first baby and, kindly, had offered to babysit said baby so her co-worker and her husband could have a night out.
I suggested the co-worker bring the baby to our house so I could supervise, as The Beautiful Redhead had a heart that was very kind, but not a lot of practical experience with newborns.
Well.
That baby's name was Abigail Lea and she was three weeks old the night I met her. This night was also positioned in such a way that it was the first time I had had a newborn baby all to myself (pretty much) in YEARS. I held that baby all night. I unwrapped her and counted all her tiny little fingers and toes, I inhaled her captivating scent, I rubbed my face on her sweet little head. I laughed and cried and talked to her all night. I rocked her and sang all the old songs I sang to my own babies. I flat fell in love with her.
The Cyclist was a little nervous. I think he thought I had lost my mind. Luckily, I was thinking enough to make him smell her head, and she got him too. Oh, he pretended to hold out, don't get me wrong. When she got old enough to toddle over and lift her arms to him he would put up his hands and say "No, no, we're not having any of that", which of course fascinated her (as he knew it would) and made him a challenge to her. She had never seen anyone who was immune to her charms before. I pretended I didn't know that trick and let them establish their own rapport.
We have been her willing slaves ever since.
Because I noticed that if I was going to have that baby I would get off the couch. I would clean. I would pick everything up off the floor and make sure I had food that she liked in the house. I *had* to, for that baby.
It occured to me that without my realizing it, I had finally grown into the woman I had wanted to be, but never felt like I really was. While I wasn't looking, I had gotten over all the longing and yearning for "someday, when the kids were grown", and become absolutely content and proud to be exactly where and what I was. I had left my own selfish wishes behind, without regret, only to embrace being the nurturer that I used to resent having to be.
I had gotten goooood at it. I could do this. Whether that baby projectile vomited all over me and my house or got choked, I knew exactly what to do. And I could even ENJOY it, because I wasn't the least bit scared anymore.
Being a mother will do that to you.
When you see a woman mothering a child, you may think she is taking care of that baby. That's what it looks like, and she is taking care of that baby. But holding and nurturing that baby is taking care of her also. It's a two way street, and one that had no set route. You figure it out as you go, accomodating each other along the way. Because of this love you will move a mountain or get down on your knees to scrub the floor, whatever it takes, for as long as you need to. Not because you have to. You don't, actually, have to. You do it because you want to for that baby. And you would do it forever, for them. And they don't have to be your own, either. This is the miracle of putting someone else's welfare ahead of your own. I believe it is tantamount to having an honorable life.
One morning I watched that baby wake up, look over and see the Cyclist, and very carefully lay her sweet head down on his chest. He knew enough not to move a muscle, and she went back to sleep right there. I also knew that had never happened to him before. I cried. I think he went back to sleep but I know it's one of those moments that he will never, ever, forget and that it touched his heart in a way nothing ever had before and probably never will again.
This is the kind of thing children give you.
And that's how I got a pretend grandbaby.
She commands us with a merciful hand. She doesn't ask for much. She laughs and smiles and claps her hands if you have, say, a bananna in the house. Or a boiled egg. If you take her to Wal Mart, she throws her hands in the air in a "touchdown" salute and says "YAY"! She spends a lot of time in the tub with bubbles and her toothbrush. The world is a better place for having her in it. These days her first question upon getting to "MiMi's house" is "Where's the boyeez?"
Those boys, who were my babies, now have a little one who thinks they are 10 feet tall and stronger than superman. They give piggyback rides and wrestle and give her old video game controllers that don't work. The fact that she doesn't know that, and thinks they hung the moon doesn't bother anybody one bit.
And we are still rolling along, I'm still cooking and cleaning and have finally gotten comfortable with crayon marks on the walls and stains on the couch. Why?
Because I know what's really important.
My best advice, if your kids are older and you don't have grandkids yet, is to go out and find a pretend grandbaby of your own. There are plenty of mother's out there that could use someone they could trust to watch their child, even for an hour or two. I do not believe you will ever regret it. In fact, I believe it will be good for not just you, but the child, the mother, and ultimately the world.
PS. For the people who are following my e cigarette journey, I skipped the "medium" cartridges and went straight to the "low". I think I smoke more vapor at at time this way, but haven't had any more or worse cravings, or noticed any fallout from "stepping down", so next time I buy cartridges I'm going to get the water vapor only with no nicotine.
I had been through the stages of early motherhood, where I was driven to have everything perfect, or at least as near as possible to perfect as I could get it, and thought everything needed to be clean and put up at all times. Four kids will get you through that stage a little faster than one. I do not have any science (!) to back this up, but you can take it from me that it is true.
I noticed, though, that now that I *could* take it easy, that's all I ever did. My house wasn't as clean as it used to be, true, but it didn't NEED to be as clean as it used to be. And Lord knows the kids didn't appreciate or even seem to notice if I did clean it. I was drifting, so to speak, and was not concerned that I was going in a bad direction. I just noticed the change. As women at a certain stage of life tend to do.
Most of my life it seemed like "life" was something that was coming at me constantly and it was usually all I could do to keep up with it. Now there seemed to be a lull, time to look around and actually see what was going on instead of having to react to crisis situations all the time.
The Beautiful Redhead was working with a girl who had just had her first baby and, kindly, had offered to babysit said baby so her co-worker and her husband could have a night out.
I suggested the co-worker bring the baby to our house so I could supervise, as The Beautiful Redhead had a heart that was very kind, but not a lot of practical experience with newborns.
Well.
That baby's name was Abigail Lea and she was three weeks old the night I met her. This night was also positioned in such a way that it was the first time I had had a newborn baby all to myself (pretty much) in YEARS. I held that baby all night. I unwrapped her and counted all her tiny little fingers and toes, I inhaled her captivating scent, I rubbed my face on her sweet little head. I laughed and cried and talked to her all night. I rocked her and sang all the old songs I sang to my own babies. I flat fell in love with her.
The Cyclist was a little nervous. I think he thought I had lost my mind. Luckily, I was thinking enough to make him smell her head, and she got him too. Oh, he pretended to hold out, don't get me wrong. When she got old enough to toddle over and lift her arms to him he would put up his hands and say "No, no, we're not having any of that", which of course fascinated her (as he knew it would) and made him a challenge to her. She had never seen anyone who was immune to her charms before. I pretended I didn't know that trick and let them establish their own rapport.
We have been her willing slaves ever since.
Because I noticed that if I was going to have that baby I would get off the couch. I would clean. I would pick everything up off the floor and make sure I had food that she liked in the house. I *had* to, for that baby.
It occured to me that without my realizing it, I had finally grown into the woman I had wanted to be, but never felt like I really was. While I wasn't looking, I had gotten over all the longing and yearning for "someday, when the kids were grown", and become absolutely content and proud to be exactly where and what I was. I had left my own selfish wishes behind, without regret, only to embrace being the nurturer that I used to resent having to be.
I had gotten goooood at it. I could do this. Whether that baby projectile vomited all over me and my house or got choked, I knew exactly what to do. And I could even ENJOY it, because I wasn't the least bit scared anymore.
Being a mother will do that to you.
When you see a woman mothering a child, you may think she is taking care of that baby. That's what it looks like, and she is taking care of that baby. But holding and nurturing that baby is taking care of her also. It's a two way street, and one that had no set route. You figure it out as you go, accomodating each other along the way. Because of this love you will move a mountain or get down on your knees to scrub the floor, whatever it takes, for as long as you need to. Not because you have to. You don't, actually, have to. You do it because you want to for that baby. And you would do it forever, for them. And they don't have to be your own, either. This is the miracle of putting someone else's welfare ahead of your own. I believe it is tantamount to having an honorable life.
One morning I watched that baby wake up, look over and see the Cyclist, and very carefully lay her sweet head down on his chest. He knew enough not to move a muscle, and she went back to sleep right there. I also knew that had never happened to him before. I cried. I think he went back to sleep but I know it's one of those moments that he will never, ever, forget and that it touched his heart in a way nothing ever had before and probably never will again.
This is the kind of thing children give you.
And that's how I got a pretend grandbaby.
She commands us with a merciful hand. She doesn't ask for much. She laughs and smiles and claps her hands if you have, say, a bananna in the house. Or a boiled egg. If you take her to Wal Mart, she throws her hands in the air in a "touchdown" salute and says "YAY"! She spends a lot of time in the tub with bubbles and her toothbrush. The world is a better place for having her in it. These days her first question upon getting to "MiMi's house" is "Where's the boyeez?"
Those boys, who were my babies, now have a little one who thinks they are 10 feet tall and stronger than superman. They give piggyback rides and wrestle and give her old video game controllers that don't work. The fact that she doesn't know that, and thinks they hung the moon doesn't bother anybody one bit.
And we are still rolling along, I'm still cooking and cleaning and have finally gotten comfortable with crayon marks on the walls and stains on the couch. Why?
Because I know what's really important.
My best advice, if your kids are older and you don't have grandkids yet, is to go out and find a pretend grandbaby of your own. There are plenty of mother's out there that could use someone they could trust to watch their child, even for an hour or two. I do not believe you will ever regret it. In fact, I believe it will be good for not just you, but the child, the mother, and ultimately the world.
PS. For the people who are following my e cigarette journey, I skipped the "medium" cartridges and went straight to the "low". I think I smoke more vapor at at time this way, but haven't had any more or worse cravings, or noticed any fallout from "stepping down", so next time I buy cartridges I'm going to get the water vapor only with no nicotine.
Jan 16, 2011
Mistaken lyrics beget blog title
Update on non-smoking: I have noticed, as have a couple of others, that I am smoking the magic stick less. It is now about 9 or 10 in the morning before I really have a craving for the nicotine.
I have also heard rumblings of the starter kits being taken off the market. I haven't researched it yet, but word on the street is that the FDA is throwing a fit because they haven't approved it. I didn't know that was even a requirement of the FDA anymore with all the commercials for drugs on TV now, which turn out to have class action suits filed within a period of about 3 years because the drug they advertised and you went and got from your Dr. turned out to have serious side effects that will probably kill you. Have you actually listened to those commercials? The side effects they read at the end always have me in stitches. You really have to wonder who would need a drug that bad.
But back to the electric cigarettes, I think we will still be able to buy the cartridge refills. If you are interested in one at all, I would buy one or two now. It has been a miracle for me and several of my friends. No one who has tried one has said it did not cut down on thier smoking.
In other news, I will tell you where the name of my blog comes from. My oldest son, the Rock Star, recently recorded a CD with his band. This CD is the result of years of work, sweat, money, tears and life experience and I am so very proud of these kids. The name of the band is Our Last Run. I happen to know they take all exposure, especially if it's free, and I have been cleared to talk about them.
These kids have been playing together for 4 or 5 years, and for most of those years, our house was a place where musical instruments were always laying out, song lists and partially written songs were on slips of paper everywhere, and it was not uncommon for 5 or 6 strapping young gentlemen to wander in and inquire if there was anything to eat. (There was, as a result of my having discovered Pioneer
Woman about that time.)
It was loud, the hours were not regular, and you might get a call at 10 pm requesting an extension cord or something be delivered to where the band was playing. The Rock Star wrote most of the lyrics and used words like "debris" and "disarray", which thrilled his already proud mother to no end. "Hey, mom, listen to this song and help me figure out what to do with it" was a common request.
So, you would think I would know all the words, right? Not so right.
When I got my advance copy, I put it in my car and rode around until I had listened to the whole thing. When I got home, I told The Rock Star that I absolutely loved it, raved on and on very enthusiastically, and said "Lace your days with hope", that is the best line. The Rock Star didn't miss a beat. He just smiled fondly and said "Huh. It's actually "replace your fears with hope", but that's actually better. I think I'll use that." I felt terrible about it. I assured him it probably wasn't his singing, it was more likely my old hearing. But since I came up with it I decided to use it for my blog title. If he wants to use it now I will of course give him permission.
I can't tell you what it is as a mother to listen to these songs. They chronicle his life in those years, and he has grown so much and so WELL that I can only hope he never stops. It's been 6 months and I still can't keep from tearing up everytime I listen to it.
If I had known when I became a mother how wonderful it would turn out, I would do it all again, 1000 times. It is being a parent that makes us become the best person we can be. We live a certain way not because we like to (at first) but to give our children an example of how to live thier lives. I used to think as a young mother that when the kids grew up I would have time to chase my own dreams. Along the way I came to realize that my children were the only dreams I ever had worth pursuing.
I think sacrifice is the secret to life. You have to do it for a long time without getting anything back. Because otherwise, it's not really sacrifice, is it? If you do it long enough, you will learn to love it for itself. It ceases to matter whether you get anything back. And when you do, it only makes you glad they see that you made it and are grateful in turn.
That's how you know they will be all right, even if you die tomorrow. It all comes full circle and you will find that all those years you went on because you didn't know what else to do, well, there was a plan. You were doing exactly what you were supposed to.
It's a really good feeling. It takes 20 years, but it's SO SO worth it.
That should be enough hope to lace several days. Especially for the young mothers who are trapped at home during this long, miserably cold haul up the hill to spring. Take heart and have a little faith in yourself. Trust God. He really is in control.
I have also heard rumblings of the starter kits being taken off the market. I haven't researched it yet, but word on the street is that the FDA is throwing a fit because they haven't approved it. I didn't know that was even a requirement of the FDA anymore with all the commercials for drugs on TV now, which turn out to have class action suits filed within a period of about 3 years because the drug they advertised and you went and got from your Dr. turned out to have serious side effects that will probably kill you. Have you actually listened to those commercials? The side effects they read at the end always have me in stitches. You really have to wonder who would need a drug that bad.
But back to the electric cigarettes, I think we will still be able to buy the cartridge refills. If you are interested in one at all, I would buy one or two now. It has been a miracle for me and several of my friends. No one who has tried one has said it did not cut down on thier smoking.
In other news, I will tell you where the name of my blog comes from. My oldest son, the Rock Star, recently recorded a CD with his band. This CD is the result of years of work, sweat, money, tears and life experience and I am so very proud of these kids. The name of the band is Our Last Run. I happen to know they take all exposure, especially if it's free, and I have been cleared to talk about them.
These kids have been playing together for 4 or 5 years, and for most of those years, our house was a place where musical instruments were always laying out, song lists and partially written songs were on slips of paper everywhere, and it was not uncommon for 5 or 6 strapping young gentlemen to wander in and inquire if there was anything to eat. (There was, as a result of my having discovered Pioneer
Woman about that time.)
It was loud, the hours were not regular, and you might get a call at 10 pm requesting an extension cord or something be delivered to where the band was playing. The Rock Star wrote most of the lyrics and used words like "debris" and "disarray", which thrilled his already proud mother to no end. "Hey, mom, listen to this song and help me figure out what to do with it" was a common request.
So, you would think I would know all the words, right? Not so right.
When I got my advance copy, I put it in my car and rode around until I had listened to the whole thing. When I got home, I told The Rock Star that I absolutely loved it, raved on and on very enthusiastically, and said "Lace your days with hope", that is the best line. The Rock Star didn't miss a beat. He just smiled fondly and said "Huh. It's actually "replace your fears with hope", but that's actually better. I think I'll use that." I felt terrible about it. I assured him it probably wasn't his singing, it was more likely my old hearing. But since I came up with it I decided to use it for my blog title. If he wants to use it now I will of course give him permission.
I can't tell you what it is as a mother to listen to these songs. They chronicle his life in those years, and he has grown so much and so WELL that I can only hope he never stops. It's been 6 months and I still can't keep from tearing up everytime I listen to it.
If I had known when I became a mother how wonderful it would turn out, I would do it all again, 1000 times. It is being a parent that makes us become the best person we can be. We live a certain way not because we like to (at first) but to give our children an example of how to live thier lives. I used to think as a young mother that when the kids grew up I would have time to chase my own dreams. Along the way I came to realize that my children were the only dreams I ever had worth pursuing.
I think sacrifice is the secret to life. You have to do it for a long time without getting anything back. Because otherwise, it's not really sacrifice, is it? If you do it long enough, you will learn to love it for itself. It ceases to matter whether you get anything back. And when you do, it only makes you glad they see that you made it and are grateful in turn.
That's how you know they will be all right, even if you die tomorrow. It all comes full circle and you will find that all those years you went on because you didn't know what else to do, well, there was a plan. You were doing exactly what you were supposed to.
It's a really good feeling. It takes 20 years, but it's SO SO worth it.
That should be enough hope to lace several days. Especially for the young mothers who are trapped at home during this long, miserably cold haul up the hill to spring. Take heart and have a little faith in yourself. Trust God. He really is in control.
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