tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89199189538714233152024-03-13T22:21:22.934-05:00Those Crazy CrunchiesWhen we know better, we do better.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-78685081675674358592016-11-03T19:30:00.001-05:002016-11-03T19:30:56.074-05:00On Big Kid Undies<div dir="ltr">
E is a tough kid. He's stubborn and refuses to be reigned in for any length of time and any reason. He's determined, he's steadfast, he knows what he wants and isn't willing to give in for anybody if it means giving up what he sees as being the answer - the ONLY answer.</div>
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Potty learning is, as you might have guessed, a challenge for him.</div>
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He's fully capable, you should know - he's proven he can go on the potty, with the exception of when he's sick, but we've all had times when we haven't felt well and our bodies got in the way of us making it to the bathroom in time. It's embarrassing but certainly not purposeful. He just doesn't WANT to. Using some form of training pants - there are no diapers that fit him anymore - is far more convenient for him. It's a safety thing, it provides him with a measure of control that he otherwise doesn't have during the day. It's all about control, something I've learned after guiding two other kids through this journey. He wants all the control but we want to encourage something he's shown he's more than capable of handling. So how do we proceed?</div>
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With the older two we just kind of did whatever. We used cloth diapers sometimes, disposable training pants in others, and cloth training pants sometimes too. We never found something we settled on and we used different brands without actually committing to anything. It's how our cheap asses rolled. But I recently got a chance to review a couple of the new Pampers Easy Ups for free (thanks, Influenster) so I went for it with gusto (because those things are expensive and I like free, and I'm not against being brutally honest).</div>
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E didn't find them to be any better or worse than anything else he tried. He had no real opinion, other than being super pumped about the Thomas the Tank Engine stuff all over the boy ones, and enthused about the Hello Kitty pattern on the girl ones. He didn't care otherwise.</div>
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As far as how they worked, they were about the same as any other disposable training pants we've ever used. They held up well to the insanity of an active toddler and we never had any ripping issues. There were no leaks. One night he had a stomachache that resulted in every parent's nightmare, the uncontrollable diarrhea, but they survived that too. They were not better, though they were not worse, than anything else I've used.</div>
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Pros:</div>
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Held up well</div>
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Kid liked the designs</div>
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Impressed with the amount of stretch in the entire pant</div>
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No leaks</div>
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Sides tear pretty easily but don't tear if you aren't trying to</div>
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Cons:</div>
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Still pretty expensive</div>
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Sides tear away pretty easily but can't be resealed like with Pull Ups</div>
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If you'd like a coupon for $1.50 off you can grab it <a href="https://www.coupons.com/brands/pampers-coupons" target="_blank">here</a>. If not, it'll still be there - but coupons are good because shit's too expensive.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-12167546229600932022016-10-14T07:41:00.000-05:002016-10-14T07:41:50.121-05:00On Seventh Generation and knowing what's inside<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cpbfp" data-offset-key="ds850-0-0" style="background-color: white;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-offset-key="ds850-0-0">WHY IS INGREDIENT DISCLOSURE IMPORTANT?</span><span data-offset-key="4o9gt-0-0"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-offset-key="4o9gt-0-0">If companies don't tell you what's inside right on the package, how do you know what you're bringing around your family and into your home?</span><span data-offset-key="em3o0-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span><span data-offset-key="49qc9-0-0"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-offset-key="49qc9-0-0">You have a right to know what goes into the products you use. Food and personal care products are required to have content labels, but there are no regulations in place for the ingredient labeling of household cleaning products - especially for the fragrances that scent those products.</span><span data-offset-key="450v4-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span><span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0">Chemicals of concern can hide behind the term "fragrance" in ingredient lists on your cleaning products - chemicals that have been linked to serious health effects including allergies, asthma, cancer, and reproductive harm.</span><span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0"><br /></span><span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0">This is important to us because we have a lot of skin issues in our family, including sensitive skin. These problems can range from irritating to debilitating, and they aren't easily gotten rid of once a flare up begins. Almost every issue is started by an outside irritant, like fragrance in a detergent, or unnecessary dyes in a soap, and it's often hard to tell which additive is the issue. Using an elimination process can be expensive, time consuming, and often means continuing to experience significant skin problems in the mean time until we finally figure out which ingredient is the trigger.</span><span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0"><br /></span><span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">That's why we support Seventh Generation's commitment to transparency. It's important to our family that more companies take this step, because it means more comfort for our family - and fewer </span></span><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">embarrassing</span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">, painful flare ups.</span></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="et0vq-0-0"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">(I got a free coupon book from Seventh Generation for my honest opinion.)</span></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-33288657328601402212016-06-28T15:04:00.001-05:002016-06-28T15:10:00.136-05:00On Getting Him To SleepIt's no secret that around here there are issues with sleeping. Mostly those issues are with either the newborn (there's a shock) or my husband, who has his own share of demons and for whatever reason has problems getting his brain to turn off at the end of the day.<div>
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Man, do I know those feels.</div>
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We've tried a lot of different things to help him. I think honestly the only things we hadn't tried were melatonin (which is tempting but I've heard of people having serious issues with) and prescription sleep aids. Given that we cosleep, though, we've been trying to avoid anything. </div>
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But he needs help. Something to help him calm his mind and let his body and brain shut down in tandem instead of managing to exhaust one but not the other, or leave him feeling more jostled thanks to nasty side effects. It's hard to find that balance, let me tell you. I feel for the poor guy. I'd feel worse, but I can pass out at the drop of a hat now thanks to the sleep loss inherent with raising a tiny baby, so unfortunately I just don't remember what those days are like right now.</div>
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I ended up getting an opportunity to get him a free trial of this ZzzQuil sleep aid stuff from NyQuil, though, so since it sounded like a good bet - free thing from Influenster, and maybe it might work? - I handed it over and told him to go to town. I won't lie, we worry constantly about issues between his migraines and IBS, and are vigilant about possible triggers for either. These, though? No side effects. No drowsiness afterwards. No incredible exhaustion beforehand. Just an easy slide into a good night's sleep. It makes me wish we'd gotten more for him to try a few nights in a row. Oh, well. You can't be too upset about free stuff, I guess.</div>
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So there's that - a freebie turns out to be a good thing. All in all, I think we'd recommend them. :)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-15533057197658701222016-05-12T19:43:00.001-05:002016-05-12T20:28:29.727-05:00On not doing very well<p dir="ltr">I'm letting E run through the yard right now. The sun is about 20 minutes from setting, it's very breezy, and considerably chilly. Especially when you're a two year old in a t-shirt and shorts with no shoes on. <br>
But he doesn't care.<br>
Inside the other three - undoubtedly including a screaming, constantly hungry three week old baby - are under the supervision of their father. I pity him, if only for his inability to lactate, because B (the newest child) always wants to eat and tends to be upset when he isn't being fed. Oddly my maternal instinct has briefly shut itself off in reaction to the knowledge that a tiny baby is in need of my unique presence. <br>
I don't care.<br>
I'm giving E the chance to run, to play outside like the cold resistant creature he is. He's got a clogged, dripping, raw nose that should be my hint to keep him indoors, but he'd rather be out here any day, communing with nature in his strange but effective toddler way. He wants to dig through the white gravel that lines our drive, wants to trowel through the mud under the lone tree in our yard. He wants to yell at squirrels, encounter one of the neighborhood's many stray cats, feel the grass between his toes. The pain of stepping on things, the discomfort of plodding around without shoes on sharp rocks, eludes him. I can't explain it. It's like he hasn't been taught that pain is to be avoided, so he continues. Maybe to a degree he has it right. <br>
Maybe we've been taught to avoid pain for so long that we're afraid to do the things that bring us joy.<br>
Regardless, I'm drawn back to my own unhappiness. I've been unhappy for so long that I've sort of accepted that this is who I am. It's easy to forget how life changing a baby is once you're past the constantly needy stage that seems to take over everything you know. You get to the point of having a young child capable of communication and understanding, a child who can have a conversation and give you an idea of why they hurt or are angry or what they want for lunch, and you forget the sleepless nights and myriad diaper blowouts. You forget that you often spent hours praying desperately to whatever deity that would listen that if you could understand just this one time why the baby is crying after you've done literally everything you can, that you'd convert to that particular religion immediately. You forget all the times you had to physically separate yourself from the baby and go into another room because you were so tired, so frustrated, so angry, so upset that nothing made sense anymore and you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to shower without a screaming voice in the background or enjoy a meal without trying to feed the baby at the same time. <br>
You forget how hard it is to be social, to be a human, when you're busy being a food source and a life sized comfort object. You forget how to be a friend, because you feel like everybody else is out having a life and a good time but you.  After a while it breaks you bit by bit, until you aren't sure you could go back to "normal" - whatever normal was to begin with - if you tried. If you had the chance. It becomes easier to curl back up in your tiny corner of despair than try to reach out for what always feels like the billionth time in hopes of finding a kindred soul. You sink into self hatred, convinced nobody wants you anymore. You slip a little farther every day, and it gets easier and easier to lie when someone asks you how you're doing.<br>
Fine, of course.<br>
Because why would you be anything else? Isn't this supposed to be bliss, a beautiful and peaceful experience that leads you to some sort of higher existence? You feel unappreciative of the gift you've been given, pathetic that you can't handle it this time around if it isn't your first, angry at yourself for needing to try so damn hard to put on a smile when others do so effortlessly. You are convinced there's something wrong with you, that you're broken emotionally (and physically if your birth didn't go the way you had intended). The fact that you feel broken makes you feel worse, because surely the old adage that all that matters is that you and the baby lived gets thrown in your face. Others have been in your shoes, you're reminded. So why do you struggle so when they easily push on, content and whole no matter their lot? <br>
Why do you hurt?<br>
Over and over it goes. <br>
Finally we go inside, prompted by the screams of a baby accompanied by a gentle request of its father. E comes willingly, frighteningly enough, after picking up all the toys he'd gotten out. He needs little prompting. He runs to the door, and to a bath, all further reminders of how far removed he is from babyhood. He can make choices, describe his actions, argue his wants. He may lack clarity and sentence structure, his grammar may at times be atrocious, but he is obviously no longer a baby, especially in comparison to the tiny creature that ends up gulping at my breast minutes later. He's only two but he demonstrates creativity, imagination, and passion for certain subjects. <br>
Meanwhile there's B. Tiny, unable to communicate besides cries and screams. Completely reliant upon others for every need, but especially upon me for food. It's overwhelming and terrifying. It's upsetting sometimes.<br>
But we continue on.</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-18720278023733643022016-04-10T13:55:00.002-05:002016-04-10T13:55:42.418-05:00On the kids<div dir="ltr">
G is nine going on fifteen going on forty. He's this emotionally thoughtful creature, simultaneously quiet and the loudest person you'll ever meet. He's like an elephant mixed with a sloth, and you'll never know if you're going to get the trumpeting stomping beast or the quiet, unobtrusive creature until the very last second. He's picky, puzzling, hard to read and a ball of emotion that can be overpowering on even my most understanding days. He's a flighty soul who doesn't know where he's going or why, but he wants to be there safely and with no complications ten minutes ago. There is nothing simple or straightforward with him, everything is a complex question and a challenge to what he's being told. I would say he questions things, but what I would really mean by that is that he sees the world from his very limited perspective, safe in his hovel of Pokémon and imagination, and doesn't understand that there could possibly be another way of doing things. It's both a fascinating and frustrating thing, and he'll often use that to his advantage, happily pointing out what he sees as inaccuracies in logic or questionable methods if he thinks he might sway matters into his favor.<br />
To him, life is a disgusting thing. Blood is terrifying and injury is awful. The concept that these things can be normal is horrifying, and exhausting to him. Any intrusion into his personal bubble by pain is an affront to him, and his reaction is immediate, emotional, and full of what can only be described as confusion and anger. <br />
It's obvious he sees the world far differently than a lot of kids. His SID/SPD issues have come a long way as he's grown and learned. At the same time it's still clear when he's struggling, when even the most gentle of reminders of rules can send him spiraling into an occasionally scary pit of overwhelming emotion. His brain seems to work on another level, one where imagination is the only safety and the outside world is actually a fairly scary place that's better avoided if possible. He absorbs information about his interests like a sponge and tolerates the introduction of further knowledge, if only to appease the powers that be; all the same, unlike many children who learn what's necessary to move on and then promptly forget the information, he stores it away to bring up again at the most confusing times. It's fascinating and at times frustrating, but that seems to be a good description of him in general, and it's one he seems to wear with pride.</div>
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A is .. So many things balled up into a single six-and-a-half year old. He has grown up in a world encompassed by his older brother, whom he has idolized and carefully groomed himself after for years before coming into his own. He is a perfect in between of the overly cautious and fearful G and the absolutely fearless E, willing to try new things and go to new heights if only to say that he was there, whether or not he enjoyed it. Like G, he is empowered by knowledge and facts, but his curiosity goes beyond his own imagination and the worlds stored there and filters out into our world as well. His focuses are on cooking and the human body, of which he takes equal interest; he can sit down and watch a questionably gory medical show that explains injuries and disabilities and all sorts of interesting things, then turn around and run off to the kitchen to help cook an entire meal without batting an eye. He often teases he wants to become a doctor or surgeon, then turns around and talks of being a chef, or a fisherman ("just like Grampie"). Whether or not he can accomplish any of those things, or maybe all of them, isn't a question to us - he is obviously able, though whether or not he can pick something is what might hold him back. </div>
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Yet hints of the frustration that must come from having so many questions and no idea how to ask them shine through occasionally.<br />
Most of all, A thrives on touch. What is for G a comforting thing done out of the need for tactile feedback and physical response is for A a sincere, emotional connection. The downside to this is that he doesn't seem to know when enough is enough, or when an appropriate time to touch is. He is very "in your face" and pushy about his need for affection, without regard for the personal space needs of others. It's a hard lesson for him, unfortunately, and one that he's working on, but not one that he's managed to master yet. Of all the kids I've ever encountered, he's unquestionably the most physically affectionate, happy to touch and be touched and to have the comfort of interaction. Still, there's a lot of love in that kid, and he's determined to give it to everybody in his path - whether they want it or not.<br />
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And of course, then there's E. I'm still not positive what to make of this child, at just over two years old, but he has certainly shown his personality. Every new word he learns is immediately integrated into his life, every new skill and ability is practiced again and again. He has no fear, no hesitation, nothing holding him back from overcoming the world and bringing it to his level. He is a flame, flitting and ready to burn anything that dares stand in his path, but with the added benefit of never being able to be put out. He runs himself ragged, a screeching creature drawn to the outdoors with no regard to temperature or weather. Rain delights him, the cold doesn't phase him, heat is irrelevant. He's proven again and again that he'd rather be cold any day, but in the long run, as long as he's outside - window down, playing in the yard, hanging out in a park - he's happy. He can go outside barefoot in weather just above freezing, with nothing on besides pants and a t-shirt, and stay out until he's forced back indoors. Even then, the only thing that will often catch his attention are either the promise of shows on YouTube about his favorite things (police cars, fire trucks, ambulances, and generally any other moving vehicle) or a bath. The kid loves water, no matter its source.<br />
Oddly, he seems to have ended up with my druidic tendencies as well, able to get close to wild animals without having to sneak up or be anything more than himself. It's a curious thing, something I was able to do when I was younger and a skill he now possesses without realizing how beneficial and incredible that it is. Even familiar animals are well loved, forgiven for their transgressions of often being bigger than him (and thus more likely to accidentally injure him) or being too overzealous in their play with him. It's fantastic how easily he transitions from animal to human when it comes to interactions, and very telling of what kind of child he's going to be - besides a completely wild monster.<br />
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I love these kids so much. They're fantastic, and crazy, and I am so lucky to call them mine.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-26238138805614273692016-01-20T13:45:00.000-06:002016-01-20T13:45:02.827-06:00On LossSome time ago, maybe a year or so, my mother in law - a woman I admire and adore - was diagnosed with cancer. A long-time diabetic, she'd already struggled with health problems before this ugly creature reared its head. She began treatment, with the caveat that it was maintenance only, but over the summer things began to go downhill far faster. She developed an abscess on her abdomen that could not heal if she continued chemo, and on top of that her doctors revealed that chemo didn't seem to be helping anyway. It was decided that she would stop treatment, and quite suddenly a regimen that had appeared to be giving her what could have been years that she otherwise might not have had was failing her miserably. She was given days, maybe a couple of weeks, and discharged on that dismal note on hospice.<br />
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She, of course, wasn't really on board with that idea. My father in law, a legal grower in their home state, researched cannabis treatments and began to provide what he could for her where traditional medicine had given up. Sure enough, though it took far longer than it would have for a healthy person, the abscess began to improve. She slept a lot and didn't heal much, but those days she was given became weeks, which became months. A woman sent home to die in a wheelchair moved to a walker, then began getting out again - and it seemed that perhaps she wasn't about to let what was unarguably a terrible situation get her down.<br />
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Unfortunately over the holidays she became ill. Common things that would get any of us down for a few days were a disaster for her, and now there seems to be no question of the inevitable. We are merely trying to determine how long, now, instead of trying to determine what's next. There is no what's next. That question is obvious. And it's heartbreaking.<br />
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We were lucky enough over the summer to be able to go visit them. Our stay wasn't long enough - though, how long would have been long enough? - but it gave the boys a chance to see a place they'd never been before, to see the place that Daddy grew up, and to spend quality time with family that they had last seen when they were too young to form memories. We took pictures, saw sights, they went on a train and airplanes and went fishing for the first time. They got to experience so many things - but most of all, they got to spend time with Grandma. They understood the pretense, that we needed to be there because she was sick, but the urgency of the whole thing was understandably lost on them.<br />
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Now, I have to come to terms with the fact that those few days in August were likely the last time I will have ever seen her. That every other time my oldest two had seen them, they were too young to make memories - and the last time they got to see her, will have literally been the last time. I think we knew those things, but at the same time, she improved little by little, and we had hope. Hope that she was stronger, maybe, than what was ravaging her. Stronger than such a silly little word like "cancer", just five letters long. Maybe as long in letters as she is in feet tall.<br />
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But earlier this month my father in law sent the email, the one none of us wanted to get: she understood, he said. She got it. She realized she wasn't getting better, and there was no "see you next time".<br />
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I'm not sure how to process this. I've never lost a parent, and while we always assumed my mother would surely experience some kind of life threatening health crisis first, instead I'm trying to figure out how to guide my husband through losing his mother. She has, for half my life, been a force of comfort and strength, a small but powerful person that I knew I could call and talk to whenever I needed to vent, or needed a willing ear that would listen to me. And she did, every time, without fail. Now, I have to try to figure out how to help him, and help the kids, understand - why Daddy is so sad, why Mommy is frustrated, why Daddy will (hopefully) be leaving in a week or two to go see them on his own, without the rest of us.<br />
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Because I want him to get to say goodbye.<br />
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I feel like I didn't get to. I know that the boys didn't, and I have a lot of guilt about that. But I don't think any of us wanted that summer trip to be a goodbye. We all hoped it wasn't. For them it was a unique vacation, a new experience, a fun trip. Thinking of it as a goodbye would have ruined so much of their view of the whole thing, would have filled them with confusion and dread instead of excitement and wonder. I wish she'd felt better, so we could have gone and done more things with her, but at the same time, I don't hold it against her.<br />
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I think, as hopeful as we all were, we knew the demon she was fighting was strong. Too strong.<br />
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So over the next few days we're going to be watching with bated breath for our tax return to come in, will be writing letters to Grandma and making videos for her. We'll be doing everything we can to "be there" as much as we can be - because at least four of us will have to stay here, and there's a chance that Hubby won't be able to make it up before something happens either. We're going to need to talk to the kids, to each other, and to who knows who else. We'll need to hope that he can get there in time, hope that the boys never forget her like I've forgotten my grandparents. We're going to regret being so far away, regret seeing them so infrequently, regret having so few pictures - and we're going to have to try to find ways to make up for that regret. To come to terms with it, accept it, and move on. We're going to have to accept how this may or may not affect my father in law, how he may react, what this might do to him emotionally. I have to learn very quickly how to help support and guide my husband through grief and all its stages, however long each may take, and how to come to terms with those stages myself. I need to figure out how to help our kids through these.<br />
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Most of all, I have to hope his mom doesn't forget that I absolutely adore her, and that I'm going to miss her like crazy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-38701534259206719442016-01-05T14:03:00.002-06:002016-01-05T14:03:13.914-06:00On Offending With BreastfeedingThis is going to be a potentially tough one to stomach, so if you're having a rough day, or if you're still facing emotional baggage regarding a decision to not breastfeed, or to stop doing so, this might be a post that's better put off until another day. I've been in that place, and I know that it's hard to accept choices or necessities sometimes without taking a step back, so please know if you skip this one because of what's going on in your world right now, I won't hold it against you.<br />
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But if you're all good right now, and ready to potentially be offended for no reason.. Read on.<br />
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I'm gonna post a few statements below. Some are opinions, some are borderline opinion/fact (badly worded facts, perhaps, or gross generalizations), and some are scientifically-backed facts. See if you can discern which is which:<br />
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Breastfeeding is disgusting.<br />
Generally speaking, breastmilk is a more nutritionally and immunologically sound source of food for an infant.<br />
It's wrong to breastfeed past six months/one year/etc.<br />
Breastfed babies are smarter.<br />
Formula feeding leads to obesity later in life.<br />
Many moms who believe they have supply issues and turn to formula have been misled and may truly not have a problem at all.<br />
All women can breastfeed.<br />
Not all doctors, nurses, and even pharmacists truly know whether or not it's safe to breastfeed while taking certain medications or during/after certain procedures and may inadvertently lead a woman to wean prematurely, or pump and dump when it isn't necessary.<br />
It's abusive if you drink alcohol while breastfeeding and don't pump and dump.<br />
Formula feeding moms just didn't try hard enough.<br />
Lip/tongue ties aren't real.<br />
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That's a pretty long list of random comments, so let's break them up into our three categories and see how you did.<br />
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Opinions:<br />
Breastfeeding is disgusting.<br />
It's wrong to breastfeed past six months/one year/etc.<br />
All women can breastfeed. (Did you think this one was a gross generalization? I'll explain in a bit why I'm putting it under the "opinions" category.)<br />
It's abusive if you drink alcohol while breastfeeding and don't pump and dump.<br />
Formula feeding moms just didn't try hard enough.<br />
Lip/tongue ties aren't real.<br />
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Gross generalizations:<br />
Breastfed babies are smarter.<br />
Formula feeding leads to obesity later in life.<br /><br />
Facts:<br />
Generally speaking, breastmilk is a more nutritionally and immunologically sound source of food for an infant.<br />
Many moms who believe they have supply issues and turn to formula have been misled and may truly not have a problem at all.<br />
Not all doctors, nurses, and even pharmacists truly know whether or not it's safe to breastfeed while taking certain medications or during/after certain procedures and may inadvertently lead a woman to wean prematurely, or pump and dump when it isn't necessary.<br />
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Now, take a look at all of those. Did the opinions piss you off a little? I'm sure at least a couple of them made you roll your eyes for whatever reason. Did the gross generalizations make you uncomfortable? That's a reasonable reaction, too. Did the facts make you nod, or make you grit your teeth? Now, depending on your reaction there, THAT is the issue we need to address: people getting upset, or taking personal offense, when facts are presented.<br />
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If you're one of the people who were able to go through the list and have a reasonable/appropriate reaction to all of those statements, then this post probably isn't directed at you (although it may help you better understand the reactions of those who fall under other categories). If the facts offended you and the generalizations made you want to slap someone, I'd suggest continuing to read: you're exactly the person I'm looking to talk to.<br />
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Here's the deal. As a country we're striving toward a more politically correct climate, one where people feel as though their choices and needs are respected and they as people are understood and acknowledged. But in some areas we've moved right past that point and have managed to run into this wall where any presentation of facts is not necessarily an attempt to educate and inform, but a mass assault against a person's integrity and parenting abilities. Sharing an article (no matter how it's worded, or how many research-backed papers it references) on how many women end up "booby trapped" and often end their breastfeeding relationships unnecessarily, or are placed in a bad situation where their ability to breastfeed, or confidence in their body's natural state of being able to breastfeed, has become downright offensive. Large pages, even those self-professed to specifically cater toward breastfeeding education and normalization, face backlash from parents, friends, and family members who seem intent on silencing any information that doesn't fit the "accept all choices without regard for facts" mindset that they function in. To a degree, of course, I can see why they struggle so hard to reset their brains on these concepts; I had a hard time too. My firstborn was exclusively breastfed for only four days before a readmittance to the hospital for severe jaundice led the doctor attending him to accuse me of starving him because I could not produce any milk when pumping (which led to an immediate order to move him to formula), and my second was doing well until about four or six weeks after he was born I developed awful mastitis, and a combination of that, stress, and severe dehydration led me back to the expensive but familiar world of formula out of desperation and a feeling of failure. I have been in their shoes, reading articles about breastfeeding or seeing people discuss it and feeling incredibly guilty. I have doubted my body, been shamed by strangers, been told I was somehow dysfunctional by medical professionals who made me think that my body was for some reason unable to perform this one biological imperative. Thinking about, talking about, looking at breastfeeding made me feel guilty. Even after I got over the initial guilt of using formula each time, there were always comments about searching out donor milk that made me feel terrible all over again - diatribes about how supposedly easy it was to access, and a million other things, even though in my area I have found that using donor milk either requires extreme luck and timing or an ability and willingness to make a HUGE monetary commitment to it, far beyond that of what formula requires. (Yes, believe it or not, sometimes finding a willing donor is not only not easy, but nearly impossible in some areas, and not every mother or family are able and willing to provide for the necessities and sometimes monetary compensation that a donor mom may require or request.) I struggled again with #3 when it was thought I would need to return to work at about four weeks, without a built up supply to speak of though I'd tried my best to pump, and couldn't find a single willing donor after days of searching, begging, and posting on pages and forums.<br />
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So I've been in those shoes. And I know that when you're still working through feelings of inadequacy, especially those you bring on yourself or those pushed by a doctor or nurse who you assume is an aware and educated person, it's incredibly difficult to see something about a still-tender topic and stay level headed. It's often just as bad, sometimes worse, to know that the move to formula wasn't a choice but a medical necessity, made because of specific medications or treatments, or because of previous trauma or surgery that makes a person unable emotionally or physically to breastfeed. It's worse thinking that maybe if you'd just looked harder for donor milk, or had known it was an option, or if you'd just tried harder... And then to have those same words spit back at you by moms who had no issue breastfeeding, or who want to compare their struggles to your's? It's an extra slap in the face to many who've already slapped themselves plenty.<br />
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The problem is that when you've struggled, or made tough decisions, or feel very firmly a certain way, and you react that way to opinions or even badly stated generalizations in an emotionally-driven way, it makes sense. Opinions are just that, and a person's ability to state them doesn't make them true or right, it just means they're able to type, or open their mouth, whether or not it's welcome or an appropriate place to share. When another's opinion ends up pushing the question of your parenting abilities or your ability to make a conscious, educated choice - well, get angry. I would too. I have in the past and still will in the future. That's a rational reaction.<br />
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But when a person is given a fact - or even a gross generalization that has some merit but was badly stated or pushed to be far too general - and they become angry and defensive, that isn't rational. It might make sense to correct a generalization, but flat out accusing someone of harassment, of abusive behavior, of purposefully being personally offensive, makes no sense. Facts need to stop being considered something that can hurt us. I understand they might be hard to stomach sometimes depending upon mindset, but wouldn't it do more good to look as objectively at something as possible, take a step back, then ask yourself whether or not your first emotional response is appropriate?<br /><br />
Consider: A mom (or single dad, or parent unable to breastfeed for whatever reason) uses formula. They come across an article on Facebook discussing how formula, while nutritionally adequate, doesn't provide the same immune benefits or additional nutrients that breastmilk does. The rational response to that information is to understand that this fact (because it IS a fact) is not meant to offend or upset, but to spread education and information. Or, a formula feeding parent who had to stop for reasons involving medications or treatment comes across a shared status talking about how many health professionals may not have access to the same information, or may not have had the same previous experience with certain medications and procedures, and thus may erroneously indicate that an infant should no longer be breastfed or that a woman should pump and dump. The rational response is for that parent to acknowledge that they are doing the absolute best they can given their information and situation, that they are still providing for their infant, and perhaps consider further investigating their personal situation (or, if they feel confident in what's been presented to them, continue to know that they were provided good information). Regardless of their emotional state, or any feelings they may still inwardly have toward their situation, it is still their responsibility to recognize that a fact should not be an offensive thing and that its presentation to the public is not an inherent attempt to undermine their choices or needs.<br />
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Think this is a little long? Well, I'm almost done, and I apologize that this sort of thing can't really be expressed with any brevity. I have two more quick points to make, though.<br />
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First, there ARE assholes out there. They're the ones who quite frankly don't care who you are, what your story is, where you are or what you can or can't afford. They don't care what treatments you're undergoing, whether or not donor milk is available, what medications you're on, or whether or not you're a survivor of sexual abuse or trauma. They have no concern for any reason you might give, no matter how honest and legitimate it is, as to why you aren't breastfeeding (or at least using donor milk). They set out to shame, to bully, and to vilify knowing that in reality they won't really face any consequences (as these sorts often exist on the Internet exclusively). I don't want anyone to think that I'm ignoring the presence of these jerks, who are quite separate from the concept of "lactivists" (that is, breastfeeding education and normalization activists). They give lactivists a bad name, they seek only to cause injury, and somehow they walk away from shaming sessions with a smile on their face as if they truly think they've done something beneficial and made a change. In reality, nearly every lactivist dislikes and will openly and willingly discredit and distance these types of people, because trust me when I say that we all know they do nothing more than push away those otherwise willing to learn, to spread information, and who might have otherwise been made aware that they had done the best they could with what they had and that they are not bad parents, only potentially misinformed or uninformed. These asses exist. We don't like them. We wish they'd shut their mouths if they've nothing nice to say.<br />
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Second, I promised I'd address my decision to include the statement of "All women can breastfeed" as an opinion instead of a generalization. It's a very fine line between the two when it comes to this one, as TECHNICALLY it could be categorized as a generalization as much as the two I listed under that category. Indeed, research exists and numerous doctors agree that there is likely a correlation between feeding formula and obesity later in life (although this may be simply correlation and not necessarily causation, and requires further research), and there is likely correlation too between an increased intelligence (which is difficult to measure in all aspects as it is) and feeding breastmilk. However, I feel that while these things can be considered "relatively true statements", or gross generalizations (they are statements that should be further expanded upon if they are to be made at all, or avoided if one only wants to state them as is without offering up further research), the idea that "all women" are capable of breastfeeding has become much more of a questionable statement. While medically impressive, and of course welcome, there are a number of procedures and medications that can keep a person alive while drastically reducing either their milk production or completely negating the safety of breastfeeding to begin with, and for many there are no alternate options that may make breastfeeding a choice again. There are, too, more women experiencing sexual assault and trauma that makes breastfeeding difficult or impossible, at least not without serious amounts of additional therapy and psychiatric help that a mother may not want, or may not be able to afford. Her ability to access that therapy may be negated by financial situations, her current mental ability to process her emotional link between her trauma and breastfeeding, and by the distance she lives from a therapist able to take her on as a patient and competently able to help her overcome the issue - assuming, of course, that she's able to do so in the first place. It's ignorant to assume any amount of therapy can help any single given woman undo what could be years of sexual abuse or other trauma that has left her with a painful connection between the act of breastfeeding and what she's endured - and while it's nice to think that ideally every woman could and would be able to find a provider she feels comfortable with who is experienced enough in helping to unwind that connection, it's a rather utopian dream that we may never see come true. Too, a woman's ability to stay on top of breastfeeding related problems and easily overcome any obstacles that might otherwise prevent her from doing so in the first place, or might make her stop early, depend completely upon how comfortable she is with the concept, seeking help if needed, and whether or not she has the type of support easily accessible to her that she happens to need. A woman who needs a pediatrician or pediatric dentist who understands how to diagnose and release all forms of lip and tongue ties but doesn't know that could be a problem, or who has an unsupportive pediatrician who perhaps believes ties don't exist or that her child cannot possibly have one, cannot be blamed for what may be an inability to find another provider, or for not realizing that there's a problem if her trusted provider says there can't be. Thus, I believe that the phrase "All women can breastfeed" is better categorized as an opinion, rather than a gross generalization, given the massive number of women now falling under one of the above problem categories,<br />
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So, there you have it. I realize some of this may have seemed rather asshole-ish, but I promise it comes from a place of understanding and of fear for the suppression of helpful information and education in the face of perceived harassment. It's high time women accept their decisions, their needs, and start separating fact from opinion without deciding that anything that's presented that doesn't fit their personal experience is meant to offend them. Doing so isn't helping normalize breastfeeding - it's doing the exact opposite, and it's pissing me off.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-67425961620681017152015-10-12T11:09:00.002-05:002015-10-12T11:09:16.973-05:00On Being Fat and PregnantIn case you haven't heard - and maybe you haven't - we're having another child. Our fourth baby is due in April of 2016, and this will be our last child. After E was born I was hesitant to consider being done having children, but I've come to peace with it now and I'm fully ready and prepared, I think, to say "no more". We'll be taking appropriate permanent sterilization measures after the new one arrives, and our family - at least that of genetically related children - will be complete.<br />
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However, in the times that I've been pregnant, I've become increasingly aware of exactly what it means to be fat and pregnant.<br />
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Sound funny? I mean, pregnant is just.. Pregnant, right? There are "plus size" maternity clothes and bras, and all sorts of other things. There are baby carriers for larger people. And maternity clothes are already made for people who are expanding - so it seems unreasonable, at least in this one aspect of life, to start complaining about how fat people are supposedly treated differently. To a degree, of course, you're right - the problem is that the "really big" women are kind of ignored when it comes to this section of life.<br />
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That's right: once you hit about size 28/30, you might as well never tell anybody you're having a child, because there is nothing out there to accommodate you. Maternity clothes stop being something you can look forward to and start being something you can abhor, because you aren't going to find any. Your options consist of sweat pants and stretch pants that are often unflattering and made of uncomfortable materials like 100% polyester, that refuse to breathe and leave an already hormonally challenged woman sweating balls. You can buy progressively larger t-shirts, or sink money into abysmally unflattering "big shirts" touted by companies as being pretty much the last bastion in fashion for women who have made the horrible decision to exceed size 28. You make every effort to wear your jeans until the last possible second, even forcing them into uncomfortable positions on your hips and expanding abdomen because you know that the day you give them up is the last day you'll wear them while pregnant - and of course, who knows how long you'll go without them after you've welcomed your new bundle of joy, too, because not every woman loses weight afterwards at the same rate. Underwear stops being something you can buy in "box" stores (think Wal-Mart) and starts being something you have to carefully pursue online, with the knowledge that you're lucky enough to not only be incubating another human being, but to be forced to only buy underthings from stores online that specifically cater to "large" women, that also happen to have confusing and impossible-to-navigate return policies that basically don't allow you to even turn try them on before giving them back.<br />
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And nursing bras? Forget it. Sure, options exist - but they're almost always priced so high that if you can afford one, you're lucky. Even then, they're typically badly fit, and even then sizes only go so high - and you find yourself desperately looking up tutorials on YouTube to try to convert a preexisting bra (that you sank good money into) into a nursing bra that might suffice, only to give up when you realize the time and effort necessary to possibly destroy an expensive piece of clothing isn't worth it.<br />
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Think it can't get worse?<br /><br />
Consider the adoring looks and knowing smiles and nods that obviously pregnant women get. Sure, you're never supposed to assume a woman is pregnant and ask those invasive questions, but even when you don't say anything, people still kind of know. You get that LOOK, that shows that people respect that you're probably tired and looking forward to getting it over and done with, but are happy that you have the chance to be in the position you're in. Once you get to my size, you never get to look pregnant. My body type - the B belly as it's called - means that I never really look like I'm going to have a child, but instead just look progressively larger and larger. I don't get a break, nobody offering me seats or doing all that invasive belly rubbing and asking when I'm due. I'd probably hate it if it did happen, but I wouldn't know - because it hasn't. Nobody has ever mistaken me for a pregnant woman, not even up to the day before I had any of my kids. The only thing I've ever been "lucky" enough to get is a bunch of disapproving, assuming looks from people who don't know if I'm pregnant or not and don't care to find out. They'd rather assume that I'm some huge creep who would rather spend her life living off a bed, eating continually. Because obviously that's all fat people do, anyway.<br />
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So, yeah. Being fat and pregnant really, really bites. Because when you're fat and pregnant, you might as well have found a brand new way to stop existing in the eyes of society.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-52273938504533289922015-07-20T15:56:00.004-05:002015-07-20T15:56:55.325-05:00On Everyday LifeI don't post here much anymore - partially because our lives are a whirlwind of moments and I have a house to clean and (temporarily) five children to watch after five days a week, and three the other two, and partially because I simply don't find myself interesting enough to talk about - but I feel the need, now, at least, to try to share some of what goes on in my head.<br />
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Things here are.. Okay. We have good days and bad days, and there are moments when I close my eyes and sincerely wish that things were different, but most of the time I wouldn't give up anything I've got in the world. Being mom to an eight year old, a (nearly, in three days) six year old, and 18 month old is absolutely overwhelming, but it's an amazing experience. The downside, of course, is that I'm learning all too well how frighteningly quickly time passes, and that while I may be nearly 30, I don't FEEL like I'm a day over 20. I know one day it'll hit me and I'll suddenly feel absolutely ancient, but until then I keep telling myself I'm still very young. That I'm not likely just under halfway through my life. That the next ten years won't zip by, that I won't be watching G graduate from school when I'm 40. I try not to think about the fact that every moment we're given is a blessing, because if I do, I'll be reminded that nothing is guaranteed and we never know what will happen next in our lives. I try not to remember that I live in an area prone to dangerous thunderstorms, that cars go fast and things fall from the sky sometime and occasionally buildings collapse and that there are deranged idiots in the world who seek only to hurt others or take lives for the sake of having something to do. I have to try not to think about the fact that someday someone may, intentionally or otherwise, seriously hurt or kill one of my children, and I may never know why, or understand the rationale behind their decision. I have to forget about diseases and infections and complications and problems that could arise at any point in time, things I can only do so much (if anything) to protect my children against - and even then there are things like heartache or mental illnesses that I can't predict or foresee. I have to put out of my mind, at least for now, that I cannot control everything and simply hope that I am a part of the lives of my children for as long as humanly possible, and that during that time, nothing hurts them.<br />
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I don't want to imply that my children are not intelligent, or aren't capable of taking care of themselves or that they can't adapt and learn to cope with whatever situation presents itself. I don't want to imply that they have especially compromised immune systems or underdeveloped emotional responses. My boys are brilliant, though I'll be the first to admit a certain familial bias toward that opinion, and they are relatively healthy and competent. They have learned thus far to cope with the childhood complications that develop our emotions and have shown themselves able to contend with the stages of grief and to reason through situations and thought processes that are a bit above that which I might equate with a child of their age. They're good kids (though I don't think there's such a thing as a BAD kid) and I adore them.<br />
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Honestly, I'm being selfish here, and I'll be the first to admit it: I'm worried about how I'LL react. Not to say that I don't think my children deserve to have long, healthy, fruitful lives - they do! - but I know in my heart that regardless of the situation or diagnosis or complication, they will handle themselves with dignity, honor, and reason. I think they're old souls, that they've been around this life thing once or twice already. I think that when their time comes, as much as I don't want to think about it, that their age won't matter to them so much - they'll know that they lived amazing lives and that they were fantastic people. I'm not sure, however, how I'll do when it comes to that transition (though I hope it doesn't happen while I'm around to see it). I already don't cope well with the issues outside of our direct family when it comes to illness and life transitions, and the idea of something like that occurring within our little family is overwhelming. If thinking about it alone is enough to drive a shiver down my spine, what will happen when it actually occurs? Will I be prepared? Will I be able to be strong for everybody else? Will I be able to coordinate whatever efforts are necessary, make the best decisions, honor my child's wants or legacy appropriately and with a modicum of respect? Will I be able to avoid collapsing into a mess of emotion so that I can continue to be an adult in an otherwise challenging situation? Will I be able to get up the next morning, and continue my life, for the sake of my family?<br />
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I have so many questions - all that doubt my capability while espousing the candor of my kids. I don't doubt them at all. I can't bring myself to. But me? I know that, no matter what happens, I'll be continuing to look to them to make me a better person - whether or not they realize that's what's going on.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-77429129447931834072015-05-23T23:01:00.003-05:002015-05-23T23:01:47.409-05:00On StupidityI saw an article shared by several Facebook friends today, entitled, "A Christian 'Defense' of Josh Duggar" (you can read it <a href="http://www.westernjournalism.com/a-christian-defense-of-josh-duggar/" target="_blank">here</a>) and I made the HUGE mistake of going to actually go read it. I'd make a comment about how you can go read the full text of it yourself, but the article is so absolutely godforsakenly HORRIBLE that I feel the need to actually go through the entire damn thing and respond bit by bit to the drivel I've read. And I'm not holding back punches, either. So here goes. The article is in black; my responses are in red.<br />
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You were probably as shocked as I was to learn earlier this week that Josh Duggar had been accused of child molestation as a teenager. <span style="color: red;">Shocked? Well, I was surprised that something had FINALLY come to light. To be honest, I wasn't shocked that someone in the household had done something completely deplorable, given that they are a very closed-off family that doesn't provide their children with a well-rounded secular education that includes comprehensive health and reasonable sex ed courses. </span>Since this news became public, Josh has resigned as executive director of the Family Research Council.<br />
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Josh’s actions as a 14-year-old boy were inexcusable and wrong. <span style="color: red;">I should hope they're wrong. He was fourteen - not two, not six, not even eight or ten. HE WAS FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. At fourteen a kid is already experiencing sexual awakening, is aware of masturbation and knows its purpose and likely how to do it (although in the Duggar household this is arguable at best; god only knows what awful things they told their children would happen if they touched themselves). A fourteen year old also understands the difference between right and wrong when it comes to touching the bodies of others, and SHOULD have a semblance of knowledge of the concepts of personal space and of consent.</span> Josh knows that. <span style="color: red;">Does he? Because up until today there has been absolutely no real backlash for his actions, no repercussions whatsoever.</span> He and his father reported the incidents to the police <span style="color: red;">over a year after the events occurred, and that officer was a family friend who also happened to be a state trooper, who failed to file an appropriate report or start an investigation, and who was then later convicted on several counts of child abuse, served prison time, then REOFFENDED and was RECONVICTED so I'm pretty sure that he was not the most reliable person to be reporting this information to</span>, Josh and his victims received counseling <span style="color: red;">Jim Bob admitted that the only "counseling" that Josh received was spending the summer one year with a family friend to help remodel houses, and absolutely NOBODY has stepped forward to give any information on exactly what counseling the victims received, who provided it, and whether or not that person was a licensed counselor who could provide adequate non-faith services</span>, and Josh admits and accepts the consequences for his actions. <span style="color: red;">And those consequences, up until now, have been NIL.</span><br />
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Once again, before we go any further, let us repeat: Josh was wrong. <span style="color: red;">He was more than wrong.</span><br />
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For a third time, just to clear up any confusion, all together now: JOSH DUGGAR WAS WRONG. Okay? Okay. <span style="color: red;">No, not okay, and oversimplifying this situation with a blasé "he was wrong" is EXACTLY WHY more sexual assaults aren't reported.</span><br />
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Josh was also 14 years old. Is there a point where we say, “You messed up. You were a stupid kid. But you corrected your behavior, turned your life around, and we forgive you. Let’s move on?” <span style="color: red;">Yes. It's the point at which a child goes from an unassuming minor who is either pushing their limits or is experimenting for the sake of learning about life to a sexually awakened and aware adolescent/teenager who is purposefully and knowingly doing something inarguably WRONG to his SISTERS. If this was ANY OTHER FAMILY people would be outraged. But it's okay for the Duggars. Right.</span><br />
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Dare I say it? Very few in the mainstream media – very few – talked about Lena Dunham’s documented molestation of her younger sister. Even less called for any type of repercussions for her actions. <span style="color: red;">I had to look into this because before tonight I had honestly never heard of Lena Dunham nor what she was accused of. I found that when she was younger, under the age of ten, she admits to have on occasion looked at, even touched, her significantly younger sister's genitals. I'm not saying that's okay, but I WILL say that my five year old and eight year old still try to poke one another's penises, and that child psychiatrists the world over agree and acknowledge that part of growing up is learning the differences about each other's bodies, finding similarities, and that while it may make adults uncomfortable it is perfectly developmentally normal for YOUNGER CHILDREN to touch each other or themselves in what is perceived as a "sexual manner" even if it is not done with the intention of initiating sex or sexual acts. Look it the fuck up.</span><br />
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Dunham was wrong, but she too was a stupid kid doing stupid, wrong things. The glaring difference between her and Duggar? Dunham laughs about her childhood incidents and shows zero remorse for them whatsoever. And that’s that. The majority of society wrote off Dunham’s incident as childhood stupidity, though it was very, very wrong. <span style="color: red;">Because it WAS childhood stupidity. That's one of the big things here. CHILDHOOD. STUPIDITY. Kids doing kid things. Yes, you're right. I should go turn in my eight year old now. Jesus christ, seriously? </span><br />
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So it would seem forgiveness for childhood failures is completely possible in today’s society. <span style="color: red;">Nope, childhood failures are completely forgivable as long as they aren't to the degree of abuse or murder. Unfortunately, Josh wasn't a child when he abused his sisters.</span> Unless, of course, you’re from a Christian conservative family. <span style="color: red;">I don't care if the family was a left wing Libertarian family. It isn't okay.</span> Christian conservatives aren’t allowed to fail. <span style="color: red;">Sure they are. We all are. But sexually molesting your younger sisters, who are as young as four, when you are FOURTEEN and are in a position of power over them, is not okay.</span> Not at 14. Not ever.<br />
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Earlier today, I tweeted this:<br />
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<span style="color: red;">Oh, good, you outed yourself as a disgusting apologist right away, great.</span><br />
I received many responses along these lines:<br />
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<span style="color: red;">That's the most common sense I've seen so far from this article and it wasn't from the author.</span><br />
The thing is, you guys, they do. By 17-years-old, 48% of teenagers have had sex. <span style="color: red;">And for the vast majority of those teenagers it was consensual sex with another teenager no more than two years older or younger than them.</span> One out of every three teenage girls gets pregnant before the age of 20. <span style="color: red;">Of course, this number fluxuates depending on the area of the country you're referring to; southern states, ironically enough, tend to have a higher teen pregnancy rate than EVERY OTHER STATE.</span> And it doesn’t count as consent just because you’re both under 18. <span style="color: red;">No, but the majority of kids under 18 who are having sex don't end up prosecuted for it because their parents or other caregivers understand that they are old enough to make decisions for themselves regarding their sexuality and that said "kid" doesn't magically become more responsible or more able to make wise decisions just because their 18th birthday rolls around. Never mind that most kids don't tell their parents, whether or not we want them to, that they're sexually active. So this is not relevant. You're basically saying that it's okay if you're under 18 and don't consent because pretty much half of everybody else you know has already fucked around, so you should just go along with it.</span> Twenty-six and a half percent of 15-19-year-old girls are giving birth to kids <span style="color: red;">which is a regionally specific number, so I'd love to know where in the nation this information is from</span> – and those are just the ones that aren’t having abortions. <span style="color: red;">Abortions aren't even relevant in this discussion.</span> And 17% of those births are to unwed mothers who already have at least one other child! <span style="color: red;">1) I'd love to know where in the nation her numbers are from. Again. Also, so? Unwed does not mean unsupported, does not mean that they are not in a long-term relationship with a loving partner. This "15-19" arbitrary range is also pretty damn convenient because, even assuming only people 18 and up are getting married and having babies, that's two whole years of extra inclusion in which people are legal adults in ANY state but are still being lumped into this age range like somehow it's relevant. It isn't.</span><br />
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Yes, Josh Duggar was wrong. Stupid, dead wrong. Wrong. Josh admits his wrong. He and the young girls affected by his actions will live with the repercussions from those incidents for the rest of their lives. It’s an incredibly sad story that unfolds far too often in today’s society. <span style="color: red;">Does it? Because I am not specifically aware of the number of sheltered 14 year olds who go around sexually molesting their SIGNIFICANTLY younger SISTERS on NUMEROUS OCCASIONS. No, I actually don't think this specific occasion happens often.</span><br />
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So what do we do now – 15 years later? <span style="color: red;">Everything we legally can, right? That's the right answer? Now that all this time has passed and these girls have been completely let down by their families, clergy, and the law, we use our newfound information to help bring them justice. That's what you're going to say, right?</span><br />
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Is the answer to teenage failure, “OFF WITH THEIR HEAD!” because of something someone did when they were 14-years-old? Kids are stupid. They’re sinful. They do bad things. Criminal things, perverse things even. <span style="color: red;">Yup. Sometimes kids steal some gum from the store or even some shoes, or punch someone that makes them really angry, or lose their handle on their emotions and say some pretty hurtful, dumb things. Sometimes kids make mistakes. Stealing is criminal. Threatening someone is perverse. But none of those things are.. Dammit, I'm going to have to repeat myself, aren't I.</span><br />
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How do we handle childhood sin? <span style="color: red;">First, I need to get over the fact that you're lumping sexual molestation in with telling a lie.</span> Yes, they should know better, but kids mess up. If we discipline them, they suffer consequences, repent, and turn their life around… What then? <span style="color: red;">WHAT FUCKING CONSEQUENCES DID HE SUFFER?! How the fuck do we KNOW he has turned his life around, when his ENTIRE FUCKING FAMILY went so far out of their way to ensure that the undoubtedly NUMEROUS times he SEXUALLY MOLESTED HIS SISTERS were covered up until this happened to come to light NOW, over a decade later?!</span> Do we show them grace and give them another shot at life? Or do we simply throw stones from our glass houses? <span style="color: red;">Not much of a glass house when I don't fucking molest kids.</span><br />
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Could it be that pointing at someone else’s sin – especially if it’s someone from a family with *gasp* standards! – makes us feel better about our own? <span style="color: red;">I'm pretty damn proud that my family doesn't allow an older child in a position of authority over their siblings to molest said siblings knowingly and repeatedly and then cover it up for years after not providing any counseling for anyone involved or any legal repercussions for the offender.</span><br />
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I also tweeted this today:<br />
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<span style="color: red;">If I prayed, I'd sooner pray for his sisters, that they will find peace even with the knowledge that every single fucking person who was supposed to protect and shield them did the exact fucking opposite.</span><br />
And got lots of this in return:<br />
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Do we not understand what was happening in the “first stone” story? A woman was caught in the very act of adultery – which in Jesus’ culture was justifiably punishable by stoning. Jesus didn’t say, “If you’ve never committed adultery, pelt her now, as hard as you can!” Nope. It was if you’re without sin. Without any sin. <span style="color: red;">I can't.. I can't even.</span><br />
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Sin is sin is sin. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong. <span style="color: red;">No argument there. Wrong is wrong.</span> Consequences are a different ball game. For example, the consequences for lying are quite different than those for murder. Josh Duggar’s sin will have a lifetime of consequences. <span style="color: red;">FOR HIS SISTERS. For those who were molested by this man. THEY WILL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES of not being provided a loving atmosphere in which they were acknowledged as the victims and provided ample and adequate counseling from a trained counselor who can.. Goddammit.</span><br />
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I’ve never molested children or shot anyone or done drugs, but guess what? I’m still a fallible human being. I’ve messed up. A lot. I, too, am imperfect and need forgiveness. I can’t throw that “without sin” stone. Can you? <span style="color: red;">No, but I can still throw the "I never molested anybody" stone and you can bet your ass I will.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-11626877922079021402015-05-23T19:28:00.000-05:002015-05-23T19:28:09.861-05:00On Homeschooling (and why it isn't "the problem")I've seen a couple of articles going around about Josh Duggar and the situation in his family, and it seems like there's <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/lovejoyfeminism/2015/05/what-you-need-to-know-about-the-josh-duggar-police-report.html" target="_blank">a good one from Patheos</a> that seems to condense the information into an easily understood list of information that makes perfect sense.<br />
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Except for the last point.<br />
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"Homeschooling can limit children’s ability to report abuse."<br />
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Now, to a degree, that's a statement that kind of makes sense. In a traditional school environment kids interact with all types of adults all day long - teachers, administrators, counselors, assistants, etc. They see all sorts of people who might notice a change from the norm and who might ask questions or probe enough to get a shy or threatened child to talk about what's going on at home. The ideal situation, of course, is that if a child is subjected to abuse at home that they will eventually feel as though they can or should open up about it to a trusted adult, and if they go to a public or parochial school, they will inevitably encounter more adults who can be told. Unfortunately, this ideal is pretty much irrelevant, for a couple of different reasons.<br />
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1) How many children out there either never told anyone and nobody found out about the abuse until it was too late, or are being abused and are too afraid to come forward to ANYBODY? The problem is, we don't really know. Abusers either threaten or condition the children they prey on, and all too often kids won't open up to anybody about anything - and when the abuse is emotional or sexual but not physical, kids often are brushed off as either lying or exaggerating their experiences. (Especially when the abuse is sexual and the abuser is a close friend or family member.) Given the ages of the girls involved and the subject matter at hand, there is a VERY good possibility that being in a traditional school never would have made a difference. You cannot coerce or force a child to admit to something with a serious social stigma attached when they sincerely believe that they or their family will be at risk if they reveal sensitive information.<br />
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2) How many kids anymore seriously get the chance to open up to their teacher and befriend said teacher enough to feel comfortable sharing something this intensely personal? Class sizes have exploded over the last ten years and teachers often have little down time with their children to sit and talk. Kids are ushered quickly into classrooms where they immediately begin their days and are ushered out just as quickly at the end. Older children may well be able to find the time and comfort to sit with a teacher they've known a while, but younger children rarely get this luxury and honestly don't often bond much with any of their teachers. Not to say that teachers of younger children don't make a difference, don't bond with students, and don't report incidents when they're made aware of them - they do, by all means! - but unfortunately teachers just aren't given the opportunity to learn enough about their students anymore to notice when something is off. I'm fairly sure that every single teacher I came in contact with during my time in public school would have immediately reported any sign they encountered of a child at risk of abuse, but in all honesty, I think unless there is obvious physical damage present, a teacher may not notice or be made aware enough to report it.<br />
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3) People are easily swayed by money and notoriety. Say a teacher had been made aware of what was going on - there is ABSOLUTELY NO GUARANTEE, be they mandated reporters or not, that they would have reported the incident in a timely fashion to someone who would have followed through, especially when the family involved is one that involves a former state representative and a well-known and publicized family who is espoused for their morality and spiritual belief. And even if they had, who's to say that the person who they reported to would have done anything about it? Everyone in the line of mandated reporters must follow through without question and immediately in order for something to be done in time to prevent further abuse. If just one link in the chain is weak, multiple children can be swiftly shoveled through the cracks. The possibility is there, yes, but assuming that things would have been different if they weren't homeschooled is tragic and places blame where it doesn't belong.<br />
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I want more than anything to only consider the good in the world, but assuming that this would have come to light sooner if they were in a traditional school setting gives even more bad light to homeschooling parents. There are thousands of families who homeschool out there who are NOT doing awful things to their children, who aren't abusive, and who aren't withholding information or purposefully teaching their kids incorrect information just because it adheres to a specific religious belief. (There are unfortunately also a number of families with children in public or parochial schools who are systemic abusers.) I would even go as far as saying that Christian homeschooling isn't the problem here (despite my disagreements with the general lack of evolutionary/scientific teachings) - it's the fact that these parents aren't teaching sex ed, they aren't teaching kids bodily autonomy. They teach an environment of "I'm in charge and you do not say no to me or your older siblings" and that fosters an unhealthy "I must say yes/comply" attitude that leaves young children thinking they can't say no to someone who is an authority over them. They don't teach kids what touches are okay and what aren't, who is okay to touch and who isn't. It's when you teach a child to be ashamed of their body and think that anything they do to themselves is sinful that you get children who grow up with an unhealthy bodily image. And given their supposedly unwavering fundamentalist upbringing, you certainly can't blame it on a lack of morals - so the fact that they are staunchly religious in and of itself isn't a good excuse.<br />
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Homeschooling, though, is not the problem here, and it should not be blamed, nor even brought up.<br />
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(General disclaimer: I am aware that the vast majority of parents, either homeschooling or making use of public or parochial school systems, are not abusive in any form. I am aware that there are and hopefully always will be more families in every environment who are loving, nurturing, and attentive than those who are not. I am aware that generalizations do not help either side and am not intending to vilify or generalize anyone into a single category - the only exception being the severe and standard lack of sex ed and mainstream scientific information and education in the fundamentalist religious homeschooling community. I do not wish to vilify public schools, as my entire family has attended public school, and I have loved and respected nearly every educator that I or my children have come into contact with over the years.<br />
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The point of this? <i>Being in public school would not have guaranteed that this situation would have been appropriately reported and dealt with within a reasonable time, nor that the outcome would have been any different</i>, and I am very tired of seeing people suggest otherwise.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-45928726956055386442015-05-22T17:01:00.003-05:002015-05-22T17:01:43.729-05:00On The DuggarsAfter a long, LONG silence, I finally feel like I should (or maybe can) come share a post. Mainly, my thoughts - at length - on the hubbub surrounding the Duggar clan and the controversy about the oldest son, Josh.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">In case you missed the clusterfuck, it's this group of lovely individuals AND I DON'T THINK THIS IS ALL OF THEM.</span></div>
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I'm sure you know what's going on by now, but in case I need to rehash:<br />
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The Duggars are part of the Quiverfull movement, which basically says that 1) men are in charge and women should always be subservient, which includes foregoing secondary education and holding any meaningful job outside the home, 2) the purpose of relationships is for procreation to make a "quiver full of warriors for God", and 3) that children should be taught according to the unquestionably abusive "training" methods akin to the drivel that the Pearls spew (which includes blanket training). They use the opportunity of being homeschoolers to avoid teaching their children meaningful science or any form of sex ed.<br />
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Basically, they're already emotionally and mentally abusive, so they've already got that going for them.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Somebody asked Jim Bob to recite all the kids' names. </span></div>
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So, in other words, this is already a pretty dysfunctional family - and that's ignoring the fact that they do a lot of other things (like courtship) that might have been adorable a hundred years ago but today are pretty unfeasible and allow new couples basically no opportunity to get to know one another.</div>
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So yesterday a lot of major media sites started posting articles about how there were allegations that at some point about ten years ago, Josh Duggar may or may not have been involved in the sexual molestation of young girls. At the time, he was a minor touching minors, so everybody kind of played the situation off as bad decision making and likely something that happened between him and family friends.</div>
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Then someone said the police report was available, that it was from 2006, and that it mentioned a LOT of interesting points.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Touching little girls: about as American as it gets.</span></div>
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First: The girls that Josh allegedly touched included several of <i>his own sisters</i> and likely a close family friend or other relative who would have had reason to be sharing sleeping quarters with his siblings.<br />
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Second: The allegations only came to light after a family friend found a letter in a book they'd borrowed more than a year after the abuse occurred.<br />
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Third: The abuse had been reported to authorities but no action had been taken; that being said, the family had supposedly gotten counseling for Josh and for the victims.<br />
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And everybody was pretty upset, but, you know, nobody's perfect, he was just a kid, he made a mistake, etc - you know, things that basically let him off the hook. Excuse his actions. He was a kid who made a mistake, right? Because surely a 14 year old can't possibly know that touching another person without that person's consent is wrong. Of course not.<br />
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Then things got worse.<br />
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Josh admitted it. Which, I mean, that's good, since at that point trying to deny the allegations wouldn't have gone well. But at that point it stops being potential allegations and starts being a lot of fucking truthiness. He admitted the affected girls were several of his sisters and another unnamed individual. He admitted that he told his parents about it, and that he'd been sent to "counseling" which then turned out to have been a family friend for whom he helped out doing house renovations for a couple months during the summer. (No mention of the counseling for the girls, of course.) He said he'd told his dad, who had acted on the recommendations of church elders (mandated reporters, of course), and who had gone on to tell a family friend that also happened to be on the police force (another mandated reporter) who proceeded to do jack shit. Never mind the fact that the "family friend" wasn't informed of this for several years, until well after the statute of limitations on sexual abuse had passed in their state, but that the "friend" handled the whole thing by talking to Josh about the repercussions of his actions and then doing jack shit (later this same authority was arrested on multiple counts of child pornography, so there's that). Josh's wife, Anna, with whom he has three small children and another on the way, admitted that Josh had been open with her about the abuse he'd leveled on his sisters before they had begun courting.<br />
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Nothing about whether or not Josh was then kept from being able to access his sisters.<br />
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No word on what counseling or support his sisters or the other victim received.<br />
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No comment about how it had affected the girls, or if Josh had gone all that time still able to prey on young girls (which one must assume he has, given that he is not segregated from the family and has his own children).<br />
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Nothing at all about how this case of incest and sexual abuse needs to be investigated and how the entire family should be individually counseled and these children seriously talked to about what's going on and whether or not any of the rest of them have experienced something similar.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">So damn wholesome. If you can ignore the touching little girls part. Oh, look, a little girl.</span></div>
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So now what? Good question. TLC has, luckily, responded appropriately and while they haven't cancelled the show as of this moment, they have pulled it from the air. It's a good very small start but it doesn't account for the health and well being of the children involved - girls who are now nearly adults, or who are teenagers, who are still woefully unaware of their bodies and what they're experiencing, and who have had no real guidance on coming to terms with the abuse they've experienced in their short lives. </div>
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If I can be honest?</div>
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Every single one of those kids, from the youngest to the oldest still at home, needs to be removed from that household. I do NOT say that lightly, as I am very aware of the tendency of the law and many Department of Human Services employees who overreact to situations and who remove kids from houses where it is hardly necessary or in their best interest. But here, it needs to happen and FAST.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I consider these necessary weapons of child rescue. Also, it'd be fun to put a good hole in their door.</span></div>
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These kids need to be individually interviewed and counseled. They need to be given age-appropriate sex ed and health information. They need to have the situation explained in the most basic of terms and be told what has happened. </div>
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This includes Josh's kids. The main problem there being that if either is being abused they're too young to vocalize it and share their experiences, and will likely not remember it either. Given that Anna knew Josh's past when they married and still agreed to have kids with an unconvicted, admitted abuser who had never gotten help, I'd say that she'd be willing to hide any evidence or knowledge about anything her husband is currently involved in.</div>
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Will there be closure for this family?</div>
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It's hard to say. I hope so - I can't even imagine what these girls have endured. Knowing the principles of the movement and the fundamentalist mindset, I'm guessing they were probably told it was somehow their fault for looking or acting in a sexual manner, and that their big brother was completely innocent. But it's hard to say.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-61775478089944614192014-11-17T17:57:00.001-06:002014-11-17T17:57:13.043-06:00On Being EnoughI've always felt inadequate.<br />
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When I was little, other children reminded me I was actually too much - too "weird", too fat, too much an introvert and too unable to emotionally cope with the day to day interactions of other kids. I could lose myself in a fantasy world all my own, a coping mechanism I developed coming into middle school, and that too was strange. I dealt with the emotional and physical repercussions of not fitting in by creating a world of magic and intrigue in my head that accepted me as whatever I wanted to be, and that appreciated my participation and existence. When I was old enough to get involved in extracurriculars like music, I was always reminded that I was not particularly GREAT at anything I did - by the results of tryouts and mandatory testing of skills and comprehension - and that my skills were always lacking at least a little.<br />
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By the time I was old enough to begin truly comparing myself to my peers (and especially to my close friends who participated in the same things), I found myself more concerned about what my mother had to say about what I was doing. Sure, I knew thanks to my teachers and the less compassionate among my peers that I wasn't particularly talented in the long run, but I also heard the comments from my mother who took pride in reminding me that one friend was a first chair in one of her three chosen instruments, was doubling up in performances, had joined jazz band and was a favorite of our band teacher, while another was trying out for drum major and accomplishing great things in her chosen instrument; others were far better performers vocally or could also dance and were far thinner than I, putting them in positions in show choir or other choirs I could only dream of being in. Not that I didn't try out - I did - but I was never good enough. There were always those whose abilities far exceeded my own, and I quickly became self-conscious. Whatever talent I had became quietly wasted, shared only with myself (and my by then long distance boyfriend, now husband), behind closed doors where I knew only I would be judging my ability.<br />
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Once high school was over, college became a secondary point of contention. It was no longer necessarily me being concerned about what my mother or any other parental figure thought, as I was suddenly an adult who supposedly needed only to be concerned about whatever judgement she passed upon herself. It became me versus my instructors, namely my choir teacher, whose push for perfection and need for impossible commitment from his students led to me leaving my two week old firstborn behind with my mother, effectively killing any attempts at breastfeeding that I'd begun (I dried up while I was away, as I had no idea how to pump and no ability to store milk) and essentially destroying the mother-child bond that I am still working on fixing and establishing seven years later. I was still not good enough when it came to the few things I enjoyed doing, but I had by that point accepted it; as I was in a smaller, less competitive environment, my lack of talent didn't prevent me from participating in certain activities and in some groups, because they were desperate for performers. The down side was that I still heard second hand about the things my friends were accomplishing at the actual colleges they had left town to attend, which proved absolutely soul crushing as I attempted to maintain my relationship with my husband, raise my child, afford to live, and continue school. I ended up dropping out, unable to cope with my chosen major, unhappy with my place in life, and unsure what I wanted to do with myself. Nothing really made me happy, and (adding insult to injury) I had to face all of this head on as the fantasy world that had protected me as a child had completely disappeared when I had grown up.<br />
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Now, a long time and three kids later, here we are. Unable to competently provide for my family I pursue the only hobbies I have as a source of income, only to be proven all the same that I am still not good enough, not talented enough for it to be worth my time and effort. I struggle with emotional and physical issues and silently cry out to finally be good enough, to finally be a decent enough person that someone is surely proud, yet I am still not enough - mostly to my mother, the one person I have always tried to impress. Nearly 30 years of existing and I still have yet to make her proud, a lack of accomplishment that sits heavy on my heart. The expectation of caring for my own children and house, running our errands and her's, spending time away from my family several weekends a month to specifically spend time with her and run even more errands for her, and I am told I should be at her house multiple times a week, vacuuming her floors and caring for her dog and making repairs on her house and cleaning for her. I should be doing all these things, I am told, because what I do is not enough. What I do is never enough - not for my kids, or my husband, or my mother. And it absolutely breaks me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-69014202527981272014-08-22T23:33:00.000-05:002014-08-22T23:33:00.431-05:00On Unhealthy Relationships<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One could argue that the relationship that I have with food is mildly unhealthy in the way that one could say that Adolph Hitler was well meaning but slightly misled. The same in that a certain subsect of people would agree but in fact both statements are incredibly inaccurate. The fact of the matter is, my relationship with food is incredibly destructive.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;">Really though, this guy was a douche.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It may sound like an overstatement, but it's the truth and unfortunately it is a painful truth that I live with every day of my life; that I must face in front of my children, my husband, my friends and my family, every new person that I meet. I am morbidly obese. It is not illness that prevents me from managing my weight and my problems are entirely my own - they are my own creation, my own issue, and unfortunately figuring out my problems has been something that I have struggled with for nearly three decades with no success.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It would be easy to claim that I am exaggerating, but anyone who has ever known me knows exactly how unhealthy my relationship is with food. It is destructive, it is hurtful, and ultimately my dependence upon food to lighten my mood and to better destroy painful emotions is what will eventually kill me. That should be a terrifying eye opener but instead it drives me back toward the chocolate and the comfort foods that I and millions of other Americans turn toward daily for comfort and sustenance.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;">But mostly food.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"But surely you understand what you're doing is bad."</span></div>
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Well, of COURSE I do. I'm not an idiot. A smoker can likely name off a good portion of the health problems associated with imbibing in their addiction and may even deny entirely that they rely on smoking to calm them, entertain them, and to satiate their inner need for peace. (Of course, some smokers are completely aware of their situation.) The recent and tragic death of Robin Williams has brought to light the disparity in America of the treatment of obvious physical ailments versus mental problems - issues like anxiety, depression, BPD, schizophrenia, eating disorders, and every other mental disability under the sun aren't going to just go away if someone changes their frame of mind or thinks positive thoughts. Hell, Robin Williams played fucking Peter Pan of all people in <i>Hook </i>and the life lesson of "thinking happy thoughts will set you free" didn't exactly help him, did it?</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Hulk new friend named "Ground". Strange name for new friend.</span></div>
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So, yes, for the majority of us who realize that most of our issues started in our heads, we're well aware of what we're doing and that it is inherently destructive. The problem is that knowledge of where the issue originated or even just knowing that we are not "physically" ill isn't enough for us to suddenly sigh in relief and declare that <i>our problems are solved</i> because they aren't. Not by a long shot.</div>
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Think back to when you were in grade school. Wanda told Billy who told Jenna who told Frank who told Amanda that Pat doesn't actually <i>like you</i> like you, just sorta likes you, and OH MY GOD you spent the next TWO WEEKS wondering what the hell you did wrong and was it that Mickey Mouse shirt you wore last month because seriously as much as you love that shirt you will <i>totally give it up forever </i>if it means that Pat will give you the time of day again. You spent every single moment of every day playing out scenarios in your head and preparing for anything and inwardly telling yourself that you just must not be good enough because if Pat won't like you, <i>nobody</i> will ever like you. Ever. At all.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">What WERE you thinking, anyway?</span></div>
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Now imagine that being every day of your life, except you're an adult and people expect you to get the hell over things like any other human being. They do not expect you to have such insanely low self confidence that you avoid looking in the mirror, they don't consider that you refuse to look them in the eye because you struggle with social anxiety problems, they don't really want to think about the fact that you are over two HUNDRED pounds overweight not because of the thyroid problem you claim to have but because <i>that girl looked at you funny</i> and also you are behind on your bills so TIME TO EAT! </div>
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Is it healthy?<br /><br />Of course not.</div>
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Do we know that?</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Hint: Yes.</span></div>
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But the problem is that as long as people think that mental issues of any kind can be resolved purely through thinking about puppies, we as a nation will continue to shutter those who are truly in need of help into the dark recesses of our society because we just don't want to think that maybe, just maybe, our problems are caused by something we cannot easily predict nor change without serious help and dedication. Or sometimes with therapy and medication.</div>
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My problem with food is one of those things that will require a complete mental reboot. </div>
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And since I look like pretty much every other fat person out there, before you pass judgment on someone because of their size.. Consider their state of mental health.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-86719281396604981102014-08-21T23:08:00.000-05:002014-08-21T23:08:07.588-05:00On Social AnxietyI am not a particularly social person. That is to say that while I do have friends and enjoy the company of other people, I am not fond of new interactions unless I am already aware that I have a reasonable amount in common with someone. I don't often like going out in public to places where there will be a large number of strangers, because that further encourages my social anxiety - there are PEOPLE there. I will have to INTERACT with them. What will they think about me? What if my innately weird personality grates on them? What if they do not understand or appreciate my dry, sometimes dark humor?<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Please don't make me go out there.</span></div>
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Of course, there are those of us with social anxiety who are lucky enough to be able to manage our symptoms (think full-blown panic attacks at the store when the cashier asks us if we want paper or plastic) through innocuous methods like deep breathing, redirected thinking, and the fact that if we don't go out and do things stuff may never get done. It's a tough road to walk down but all of us manage somehow, whether it's through guided therapy, medication, or being able to somehow weather the daily storm of human interaction all on our own.<br />
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It helps when we find people that either by force or by choice we are able to communicate with - typically parents, siblings, a few close friends, and children. We can talk to those few people, or at least agree to do things with them on a semi-regular basis, without immediately having to take a deep breath and remind ourselves that despite how terrifying being around other people can be, it's at least kind of okay with these people, because they know that we are fucking nuts and they at least aren't completely bothered by it.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">We are not good at communicating feelings either.</span></div>
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The hard part is forming those relationships outside of the boundaries of our families. At least when it's a parent or sibling or child or spouse, it's someone we more or less see every day. We become comfortable to some degree through force of habit and through the weird bond of genetics. We may never fully be secure in our surroundings, but when we're with family, we're at least somewhat sure that our particular brand of crazy won't skeeve anybody out so much that they feel the need to leave the room.</div>
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But new people? No. Forget that. I am the kind of person who, if asked to call a restaurant to place an order, will give you puppy dog eyes to guilt you into doing it or try to find a way to order online. Please do not make me interact with strangers. I don't want to answer the door when they get here. When I am out in public I will mess with my phone just to avoid making eye contact with someone. I will look at the floor or the shelves. No, guy in the store, I do not want help finding what I'm looking for and I do not have questions - partially because I have been in your shoes and I'm willing to bet that you probably don't actually know where what I'm looking for is, but also because I do not want to have to actually speak to you.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I should probably get this t-shirt so everybody goes into this situation aware of who is the problem here.</span></div>
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The irony is that one of the ways I combat my extreme social anxiety is by playing myself off to be an extrovert. I've been told that I can't possibly suffer from social anxiety if I'm able to channel my emotions and fears into the facade of a person who is happy about being in the limelight and who flourishes in social situations, which I think is just a great way for a person to say, "I see your coping mechanisms, and I raise you the pair of your pants that I preemptively set on fire."<br />
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Like any other problem, I've found it's really easy for someone who has never had social anxiety issues to roll their eyes and say that you just need to get over it, or things aren't really as bad as you think, or it's all in your head. Well, yes, thank you, I KNOW it's all in my head because unlike some conditions, social anxiety doesn't exactly show up as a tell-tale rash on my shoulder blades accompanied by a wheezing cough and tiny black pock marks.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I hear ya, Katherine. But if you'd just think positive thoughts that plague would go away!</span></div>
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What it DOES show up as is the near-constant sensation of being on the edge of a panic attack at the mere idea of having to possibly make eye contact with a total stranger. Considering the fact that I think most store employees would assume you're in the midst of some kind of demonic possession if you suddenly curled up on the floor and screamed at people to please not look at you, I'd rather learn to calm that sensation and play it off like it's no big deal - and I should note that taking it to the opposite extreme and being incredibly friendly toward everyone not only lets me appear as though I am a confident, functioning human being, but that I am not spending every last second worrying about what you think about me and how I am supposed to actually TALK to you, much less LOOK at you.</div>
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So there you go. That's how I deal with my social anxiety, and now that you know that I have it, please be kind to me if you run into me out in public.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">WHERE IS MY BLANKIE</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-43999190873960988262014-08-20T18:40:00.005-05:002014-08-20T18:40:59.574-05:00On DaysSchool started back up today.<div>
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I haven't been a stay at home mom to two rambunctious kids in a long while, and have never been to three, so it was a culture shock to me when I started full time after I officially lost my job in June. It's a whole new ball game, to have one baby attached to your chest and two others that you can't get to pay attention to you for two whole seconds. The disparity is extreme and hilarious at times, but there have been more than a few days that were taxing on everybody's emotions. </div>
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I can't just say mine. </div>
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I try to wax poetic every once in a while just to keep myself coherent; unfortunately the lack of sleep and stress of going from a relatively well-off two income family to a one-income family that struggles to pay its bills have left me incoherent at times. I forget even simple words, misspeak frequently, combine words improperly, and online I find my work riddled with confusing typos that I can't always explain. I can stare at an object and stammer in confusion trying to remember what it's called.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">This has been my life as of late.</span></div>
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It's more than a little frustrating but I manage well enough when I don't get frustrated - which isn't often. It's really hard to spend your days feeling less like a woman just barely under 30 who has three kids to keep up with and more like an 80 year old fighting off the beginning stages of dementia. I don't take that comparison lightly, either.</div>
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So between that, and the fact that most of the days around here have been either too hot to venture outside for long or nice and cool but insanely cloudy and rainy, I think I'm not the only one who has been happy for school starting again.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">We just faked spring and summer, really.</span></div>
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I have kicked around the idea of homeschooling the kids for a couple of years now and I keep telling myself I'm going to officially do it, hunker down, find some course materials and fill out the paperwork and make it happen. The downside is that I know I struggle too much with basic things like involved mathematics and the concepts of syntax in English to be a useful and helpful teacher for my children. I realize that public school has its flaws, but I have no doubt that despite being forced to push agendas aimed toward successful test scores, most of the public school teachers are far more able than I to teach my children. I can encourage a love for learning and for them to further explore their interests, but I will be the LAST person on earth effectively teaching them long division.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Never mind, I don't even potato.</span></div>
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I also loved being involved in the extracurriculars at school - and given that I was already an outsider when I was in the musicals and plays and band simply because I was inherently <i>weird</i>, I can't imagine how my children would be treated. It's sad but true: kids can be cruel. I'm actually not worried about them not being very social, but I am incredibly concerned about them being mocked or feeling as if they weren't accepted. In adulthood it's much easier to look back and scoff at the concept of whether or not a few high school kids were willing to open their arms to an outsider, but when you <i>are</i> that outsider, it's much harder to not take personally. </div>
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So for now my kids remain in public school, where they seem fairly content. A is in kindergarten and has the same teacher that G did, and G is in second grade. I was worried that since they're at the same school but in different classes that as soon as they were separated A would go into a panic, despite having his "girlfriend" (and undeniably closest friend) in his class with him. Instead, the report home I got when I picked them up was relatively positive: G had a great day, knew a couple of kids from first grade, generally enjoyed himself and likes his teacher. A got sent to the back of the carpet at carpet time because he had no intention of sitting still for ten seconds to be given instructions, and got in trouble a couple of other times for refusing to listen or follow directions. Which is pretty typical for him.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I'm okay with it because for him, that's really not too bad.</span></div>
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Maybe this year will be okay after all.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-30165566699961146592014-08-17T21:20:00.000-05:002014-08-17T21:20:02.832-05:00On Taking OffenseI posted this on my personal Facebook wall earlier and it seemed to get a fairly positive reception. I'm going to repost it here, in its entirety - and to be honest I feel no real need to adjust, revise, or add anything. That's kind of a nice feeling! :D<br />
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Let me be clear.<br />
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If I post something about liking breastfeeding, or basically anything about breastfeeding being good etc, it is not because I want to shame anybody. I do not want to make you feel bad if you could not breastfeed, if you chose not to breastfeed, if you did for a day or a week or a month or six months and then either had to stop or chose to stop. I am not saying you are somehow inconsiderate of your child's needs, that you are less of a parent than a mom who breastfeeds, or that you did not do what was best or right for your family or child at that moment.<br />
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I encourage everyone to at least try. I do believe that breastmilk is better than formula for a lot of reasons and scientific evidence supports that claim through bountiful studies. I do think that if you are unable or choose not to breastfeed that attempting to use donor milk is the next best option but I completely understand that for some that is either not an option or not something they are comfortable with. Trust me, I understand.<br />
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I post about breastfeeding because I am proud of it. Because twice before I tried, and was either told by a doctor or by my mind that I needed to stop. I have dealt with the medical reason, with a doctor telling me I needed to stop breastfeeding my four day old or he would never recover from jaundice, was not encouraged to pump or continue attempting to breastfeed in the mean time (except by a very few select people). We were in fact told for four days to leave him in an incubator and not take him out unless he truly needed to be removed - FOUR DAYS of leaving my not yet a week old baby alone, not touching him, watching him cry and scream and still being told we could touch but not hold if we really wanted him to recover. I have dealt with clogged ducts, mastitis, stress, under supply that didn't seem to come up no matter what I tried, the inability to pump even a bit. I have dealt with being on medications where some said it was okay to continue breastfeeding and others said it wasn't. I have dealt with trying to continue during hospital stays and determining safety and whether or not a lip tie was worth revision. I have dealt with bad latch, with insufficient weight gain, with having a chest too big and bruised nipples.<br />
<br />
I realize that despite all that I have not experienced HALF of the problems that some moms do, problems either they overcome or not (and struggling with them at all, despite the outcome, makes them far stronger than I). I am lucky for that and I know it, so I try not to complain.<br />
<br />
I was formula fed. That doesn't bother me. My awesome mama did everything she could for me and I love her so much for that. Gabe and Alex were formula fed, one from about a week old and the other from around four or six weeks old. I have been there, mixing bottles and worrying about having enough formula and putting up with the stink and stains and preparation and lugging it around. I UNDERSTAND. I have been there and done it and got the t-shirt twice over.<br />
<br />
So when I post about breastfeeding, it isn't to belittle you. It isn't to make you angry or diminish the severity of your struggles or personal experiences. It's because three times now I have seriously wanted to breastfeed, have struggled to, have hoped and prayed and begged for it to work, and now, on my last chance, I can say my child has been exclusively breastfed for seven and a half months and will not stop until he is ready. I am proud because I have WANTED this and this was my last chance to have it happen, and it DID.<br />
<br />
So, please, don't take offense if you see something about it. Scroll on. But please, please never take offense.<br />
<br />
Thanks for letting me rant.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-87182393590865478452014-07-25T17:08:00.000-05:002014-07-25T17:08:00.615-05:00On Double StandardsTwo sets of parents sit down at a restaurant. The genders of the parents or their sexuality are unimportant but for the sake of this situation we'll err with the majority - two heteronormative sets of parents in monogamous relationships. One set has a small child with them; the other set is obviously expecting.<br />
<br />
They are Mom A and Dad A, the newly expecting parents, and their good friends, Mom B and Dad B, the ones who already have a child.<br />
<br />
The group settles in and exchanges their pleasantries. As seems to happen with every group with there are children or pregnancies involved, the conversation eventually changes to child rearing.<br />
<br />
Dad B: "So.. Are you going to.." He makes a scissors motion with his fingers. "Have the baby.. You know?"<br />
Dad A: "Circumcised? Well, yeah."<br />
Mom A and B roll their eyes and go back to their conversation. This doesn't appear to interest them much.<br />
Dad B: "Oh. Why?"<br />
Dad A: "Well, you know." He looks uncomfortable. "Our doctor says it's healthier. Cleaner. All that build up of smegma junk, you know. And it'll smell."<br />
<br />
They both laugh uncomfortably. Mom A nods at what she's heard her husband say.<br />
<br />
Dad B: "Ya know, really, I mean.. You can teach them to fold everything back, clean themselves."<br />
Dad A shudders.<br />
Dad B: "You don't have to have it snipped."<br />
Dad A: "Well.. Maybe the kid'll clean itself when it's a little older, but.. What about when it's young? I don't want to have to be messing around with a baby's.. Bits."<br />
They laugh again.<br />
Dad B: "You know, little babies, you just wipe them like usual. You don't actually have to pull anything around. You just.. Wash. And when they get older? Well, kids learn to clean themselves. And they continue as adults."<br />
<br />
For a moment the conversation seems to stop. Dad A shrugs.<br />
<br />
Dad B: "Have you guys talked about it at all?"<br />
Dad A: "Well, kind of. But.. All the others will be.. Circumcised, you know. It's just the norm. I don't want my kid looking different from everybody else's kids. I can't imagine the confusion. Why didn't we do it, why's everybody else done, it's just.. How things have always been."<br />
Dad B: "Trends are actually changing. Circumcision is becoming more rare. In fact, by the time our kids are in the locker rooms, most WON'T be. The ones who are cut will be the odd ones out."<br />
Dad A: ".. Seriously?"<br />
Dad B nods, very resolute. Dad A seems to think this over for a while.<br />
Dad A: "But.. Ya know how it was when we were younger, right.. There was always that ONE who wasn't.. Cut.. And oh my god, it's all you heard about, how nasty it was, how gross it was. I don't want that to be my kid."<br />
Dad B: "So they learn to wash. Besides. If someone is going to purely judge their interest in your child based on whether or not they're circumcised, of all things.. Is that really someone you want your kid in a relationship with? Doesn't sound healthy to me."<br />
<br />
By this point the moms have begun to listen in. They're leaning a little closer, trying to make it look like they aren't paying attention, but it's obvious that they are. The dads pause, smile a little, clear their throats.<br />
<br />
Mom A: "Circumcision reduces the instance of UTIs."<br />
Mom B: "Aaactually, it really doesn't. Why is it that one gender gets a round of antibiotics and told to pay attention to hygiene more carefully when there's a UTI, and the other gets the recommendation of circumcision if it hasn't already been performed? Sounds like bunk to me. Besides, our country is really the only one left that circumcises frequently with no medical need. Europe, Canada, and so many others just don't anymore, and you don't hear about a massive wave of UTIs and other diseases spreading around like wildfire because people aren't cut."<br />
<br />
Mom A blinks. She hadn't thought of that before. She frowns.<br />
<br />
Dad B: "Hey, we don't want to tell you what to do. But there's really no reason to circumcise if it isn't medically necessary, you know? Plus, it's rarely done with the proper amount of anesthesia, a baby can't tell you if they're having symptoms of complications, diapers can mask the amount of blood loss to a point where it's already deadly and you don't know it, never mind that you're removing healthy erogenous tissue from a baby who can't consent." He shrugs. "It's just stuff. It probably won't kill them, but it might. It might not leave them scarred for life - or then again, maybe it will. You can't tell before hand if something bad will happen. It isn't a risk we wanted to take." He takes his partner's hand. She smiles.<br />
<br />
Mom A: "You mean, you guys didn't..?" She points at the baby, who is happily babbling away at something.<br />
<br />
The other two parents shake their heads.<br />
<br />
Mom B: "Risk versus benefit. There just wasn't enough of a benefit for us. It made no sense. Our pediatrician agreed and was even the one who brought up whether or not we had considered it in the first place. He was thrilled when we said we chose not to."<br />
<br />
Mom A frowns. She seems to be thinking something over very heavily, and finally, she clears her throat. She glances at her husband, then back at the other two.<br />
<br />
Mom A: "How.. How do you explain the fact that they look different from you..?"<br />
<br />
Mom B smiles and puts her arm around her partner.<br />
<br />
Mom B: "We say that the cycle of abuse has stopped."<br />
Dad B: "We say that we know that the decisions our parents made were the best they knew how to make, but that things change and people learn that things can be done differently."<br />
Mom B: "And when our daughter is old enough to really understand why she wasn't circumcised, she'll have the choice to make for herself."<br />
<br />
The A family looks kind of impressed.<br />
<br />
Mom A: "I don't really want to circumcise my perfect little girl." She doesn't sound too proud. "But I thought it's something we had to do."<br />
<br />
The other parents shake their heads.<br />
<br />
The cycle can stop. If we don't cut our girls... Why do we cut our boys?<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-68563484835605693732014-07-25T10:00:00.000-05:002014-07-24T00:57:11.869-05:0020 Things I Will Never Go Crunchy For: #17#17: Kale.<br />
<br />
I don't even need to include a link to anything. If you are at all crunchy, you are likely aware of what kale is. It is an insanely robust superfood, full of calcium and antioxidants and vitamin K and potassium and every other sort of good thing known to man that has ever come of a green plant. It has no fruit and the stems and roots are inedible but the leaves themselves are diverse, able to be eaten as part of a salad, used in rolls, added to noodles, stir fry, shredded and made into all sorts of interesting things, pressed into flat wafers for nearly any situation... In short, kale is pretty much perfect and if you go to your healthcare provider and mention that you have begun to consume more kale they will probably clap their hands with joy.<br />
<br />
I hate it.<br />
<br />
I will preface this by noting that I have always been.. Shall we say, difficult, when it comes to eating my veggies. As a child I would only touch potatoes and corn, and only moved into broccoli and green beans as an adult. I now will also eat spinach (raw and cooked in things) and will consume a few other things if they are well disguised, but kale is unfortunately the one thing I have yet to be able to get over. I have enough of a hard time with plain cooked greens, so that's out - and I've tried it in chips and as chips and all kinds of other ways that should be appealing as a junk food addict, but I can't get over the flavor.<br />
<br />
I just CAN'T.<br />
<br />
I keep giving it a good try, as parts of rice snacks and with teriyaki flavoring and everything else under the sun. Maybe I just haven't found that perfect combination yet, but I can't stand the stuff. And may the heavens forbid I ever get a good taste of the stuff - I promise I will probably gag, juvenile as that is. I don't even care. It's nasty.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-62191196817354467252014-07-24T00:50:00.002-05:002014-07-24T00:50:35.009-05:00On Making It This FarIf you had told me after G was born - or especially after A, having failed twice in my mind - that I would be sitting up at 12:30 AM happily pumping to keep from becoming painfully engorged while my nearly seven month old nursling slept fitfully beside me (darn teeth), I would have called you crazy. I had yet to nurse a child beyond two months, though I had high hopes both times. My ideal nursing relationships would have lasted well beyond a year - though of course I would have reluctantly called it quits whenever my beautiful boys would have decided it was time to stop. But they never did work out to begin with, and it left my heart and breasts deflated and broken.<br />
<br />
Then there was E.<br />
<br />
Much has changed - my support, my knowledge, my situation. My resolve has grown ten times over, and I have learned well how to handle the problems that often stand between a newly nursing mother and her bitty baby. My birth with E was different in many ways, too, as was the postpartum period (that ended up being thrown disastrously off). I have grown and changed and learned so very much. It has all lead me, blessedly enough, to being a mom who has breastfed a baby for the better part of a year - without a drop of formula or (although there's nothing wrong with it) another mom's milk passing his lips. He has begun to eat solids now (okay, he started nearly two months ago, when he first started getting teeth and displayed all of the expected food-ready developmental milestones one would watch for), but I am still his primary source of nutrition and, most importantly, comfort. He will at times prefer a pacifier if his sole need is simply to suck, but if he truly feels comfort is necessary he will sooner turn to me and no other will do.<br />
<br />
It is the most amazing thing in the world!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-31027372446002718792014-07-16T20:33:00.003-05:002014-07-16T20:33:45.636-05:00On The StruggleI have struggled for some time with my weight.<br />
<br />
When I say "struggled for some time", I don't mean that I've spent the last couple of years 10 or 20 pounds overweight and constantly staring at myself in the mirror, frowning and poking at a comparatively minimal amount of "extra" while complaining about how unjust the world is. I mean that over the last five years I have successfully (if one can even call it a "success" without smirking) gained some 100 pounds, each of which have lumped another problem onto my body and my scale. Add to that an addictive personality and I'm practically set up for disaster from the get-go: I become too easily attached to people and things, I'm fairly disorganized, and I have a tendency to turn to food for companionship and ... Well, I've been down this road before on here. More than once. Probably more times than I'm honestly comfortable admitting. It's part of who I am, to hate what I am becoming, and it's something that I feel has been pushed into every ounce of my being.<br />
<br />
I hate me.<br />
<br />
And it's pretty tough, in all honesty, spending nearly three decades - okay, more like two and a half, given that I'm only 28 - in an extreme place of hatred and self-loathing. I doubt me. I dislike me. I seek attention in whatever ways I can find it (usually in the addition of piercings or using hair color) because I need people to notice me for SOMETHING other than the fact that I'm ugly or the fact that I am so ungodly huge. I guess I should have warned you at the get go, this is not a post about self-love and acceptance and positive body image. I don't have any of those things, though I've tried in the past to welcome the concepts into my life. So if you're looking for feel good, if you're looking to have a nice time with someone who is going to casually mention how lovely she feels about herself, you might want to look elsewhere. Unfortunately my page is not the place for that right now.<br />
<br />
That being said, the above three word statement is very, very true. It sounds harsh to most - self-hatred is often associated with severe depression, anxiety, and a self-esteem that is so low it might as well be hanging out in the Mariana Trench. But it's the truth. I HAVE been depressed and struggled with severe anxiety and a few other issues most of my life, although I haven't told many people any of that, and I'm positive my weight has affected aforementioned problems. It's so ingrained in me now that I am a fat, unattractive person that even if I did lose the amount I needed to (over 200 lbs), I still wouldn't have any idea what to do with myself and would likely still hate how I look. Mind you, that doesn't mean I don't want to lose the weight. I know that my health and future depend upon my ability to become more healthy. I may not be able to undo the damage that has already been done, but I may well prevent more from happening, and some of my issues may well improve to some degree. Those things alone - never mind the smaller clothing sizes, the sheer decreased size, the ability to fit into spaces I couldn't before, the ability to keep up with my kids - should drive me to want to lose weight and gain the stamina and strength I don't have right now. It's hard, though, when your entire life revolves around the idea of taking comfort from food, to convince yourself that you can make a big enough difference to move forward with your journey.<br />
<br />
So if you've learned anything, kids, learn to not eat yourself into feeling better.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-18642721109715362762014-07-14T22:27:00.000-05:002014-07-14T22:27:00.086-05:00On DreadlocksI want dreadlocks.<br />
<br />
When I say that, I don't mean it as some cutesy comment after which I giggle and flip my hair and go find something girly to do. I mean that I want something like this:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rkea6qlUQDg/U8NNcdakehI/AAAAAAAAKJo/kiZjvHLUL9A/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rkea6qlUQDg/U8NNcdakehI/AAAAAAAAKJo/kiZjvHLUL9A/s1600/download.jpg" /></a></div>
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or like this:</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XcGH1LBxg5E/U8NNcsv8azI/AAAAAAAAKJs/2TSKSyBi6Js/s1600/DSC_9904_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XcGH1LBxg5E/U8NNcsv8azI/AAAAAAAAKJs/2TSKSyBi6Js/s1600/DSC_9904_3.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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Of course, I never will have anything like either of those pictures, nor the lovely dreadlocks I imagine in my head. There are multiple reasons why, despite my deepest desires, dreadlocks will never become me - mostly in that they require putting far more work into the maintenance of my hair than I care to. I have a hard enough time brushing it out, keeping it washed, and finding something halfway acceptable to do with it as it is. I can't imagine having to try to start the dreads myself (I can't afford to have someone sit down and do this for me), much less then having to maintain them. It boggles my mind to think about the effort required. But I can still dream, and stare longingly at what I consider to be very beautiful, and wish that maybe someday I can clamber after this boho style that I so dearly love.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-51005180065909666132014-07-13T22:21:00.001-05:002014-07-13T22:21:28.402-05:00On BoobsI walk around my house with my boobs hanging out a lot anymore. It isn't really a coherent decision I make at any point in time during the day - there's no, "Oh, man, it is TOTALLY tits out time!" - but it just sort of happens, depending upon what I'm wearing that day. It isn't something that ever would've happened before, but as a mom of a six month old with a voracious appetite and as an admittedly lazy woman I've found that a lot of the time it's easier. No matter what I'm doing at home, I know that soon I'm going to need to feed E again and that's going to mean undoing the nursing bra or pulling the bra up and readjusting a shirt and pulling up another shirt and this and that and the other. It's a layered thing that leaves me typically leaving my breasts out in a more comfortable way.<br />
<br />
Yes, this sometimes means that my oldest boys see my breasts. Then again, they see them when I'm feeding E and when I'm getting into or out of the shower or getting dressed and they barge into the bathroom to use the toilet or brush their teeth or ask me a confusing question about Portal. My breasts aren't anything new or interesting to them, they're just another body part (but one that they know they aren't allowed to touch without permission, because we do practice an understanding of personal space). That's how I want it to be, honestly; I have no interest in teaching them that breasts are feared and should be avoided until they're old enough to enjoy them sexually, at which point breasts are acceptable only to oogle. I want them to understand that first and foremost breasts exist to feed babies; that at one point, for even the shortest of times, they shared this sort of relationship with me too. I want them to understand that while breasts are pretty and fun to look at (or at least will be in a few years), their first purpose is to feed babies, and while they are out to feed babies, they are not sexual or scary and they should not be hidden.<br />
<br />
I'm proud that while they still find breasts giggle-worthy to a degree, they are able to discuss them and my ability to feed their brother without shame. My breasts don't unnerve them. (Although admittedly they'll ask me to cover back up the one I'm not feeding with at the moment when they come over to cuddle with me.) And I'm okay with that, because they know inwardly that while my breasts are to feed the baby they are still also a private thing, and I appreciate that they understand that they do not get to touch them without permission. I love that they are able to walk around without a shirt on, or in only underwear, without being bothered by the idea that they are somehow showing off more of their body than is acceptable. The downside to all of this, of course, is that in "polite society" we have one big difference: it's okay for them to have their shirt off, but my nipples are illegal.<br />
<br />
I won't go into a rant about the legalities and unfairness of how society treats breastfeeding and the women and children involved, but I thought I'd share these thoughts as they came through my head.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-50172429577160961832014-07-07T14:58:00.002-05:002014-07-07T14:58:59.066-05:0020 Things I Will Never Go Crunchy For: #18A long, long time ago I started a list of things I swore up and down I'd never use or implement in our daily lives, or things I'd never give up - things that are typically considered either very crunchy (and thus very eco-friendly) or things that are so anti-crunchy that most self-proclaimed crunchy families give them up quickly (see: hot dogs). I started that list back in 2011 and got through all of two posts in it before I promptly forgot about it entirely. But today I'm bringing it back! Mostly because I thought of something else I don't think I could ever, ever do.<br />
<br />
#18 is <a href="http://www.pennilessparenting.com/2010/06/reusable-toilet-paper-family-cloth.html" target="_blank">family cloth</a>.<br />
<br />
I didn't actually really need to link to an article on that; it's exactly what it sounds like. Although cloth wipes seem to me to be a whole different genre of "okay", the idea of using cloth for the rest of my family to wipe their butts is to me disgusting. Not to knock anybody who uses them - hey, that's your choice! - but I have no desire whatsoever to breach this wall. Holy cow.<br />
<br />
Not that they aren't cute; I've seen lots of super-crunchy families (moms especially) who make and maintain adorable little containers for them, who stuff them back into said containers in a nice neat order, who just kind of make the whole thing look rather attractive if you ignore the fact that the number of cloth wipes that would need to be pulled out of a toilet full of poo while everybody's adjusting to this change would be massive. I already have enough diapers to wash, and I worry enough about them getting as clean as they should (I have an HE front loader and no way to soak them). Sometimes they stink. I'm already having ammonia problems with them but don't have any blue Dawn at the moment to strip my diapers. I can only imagine the added laundry I'd be doing, never mind the SMELL of these things sitting or immediately upon usage if I had ammonia issues with them, too.<br />
<br />
Are they environment-friendly? Well, that depends. Toilet paper can be harmful to septic systems but decomposes quickly and fairly easily. It is often made of recycled materials. Downsides are that we need a LOT of it as a family of four who uses the potty, which means that we are tossing a lot of TP down the drain (quite literally) and thus are spending a considerable amount on it. Other downside would of course be that although it decomposes, it is also heavily bleached and treated with other chemicals to get it as white as it is. Cloth results in less going into the sewer, but it needs to be washed - which means putting more detergents into the water supply and means it must be further inundated with chemicals to get the detergents out.<br />
<br />
So which is better? I can't judge for your family. But I know we won't be using family cloth anytime soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8919918953871423315.post-29697961873063925912014-05-01T11:46:00.001-05:002014-05-01T11:46:36.386-05:00On A Long Time PassingI haven't written in a very, very long time.<br />
<br />
Part of that is because I haven't felt the urge. I've had plenty to write about - meaningful thoughts, inward commentary, general ideas that could easily be shared with the world - but I haven't been compelled to share them. To a degree, I think the things I've experienced in the last year have had a lot to do with that, but some of it too has been the state of general depression that has set into our family. In October we moved to our own house and in January we welcomed baby #3 and our last child, baby boy E. He's an amazing little baby, nearly four months old now, and I've no doubt that he'll be as brilliant and amazing as his older brothers.<br />
<br />
After his birth I experienced a rather traumatic incident involving multiple pulmonary embolisms. I had blood clots in every lobe of both lungs, leading to a hospital stay while trying to continue breastfeeding that was both unpleasant and emotionally challenging. That, in turn, has led to a three month hiatus from work in which I have had to fight tooth and nail to force my doctor's office to submit the required paperwork in time for each continuation that has been necessary (most recently, I have yet again had to appeal my disability being closed out, because the doctor's office didn't submit information in time, meaning we are going without a LOT of my pay, on top of the 40% cut I receive simply for being on disability). The whole situation has been beyond anything I ever would have expected when it came to reasonable challenges, and while people have continuously reassured me that we would never be handed more than we could handle I feel I must argue with that after this series of insanely unfortunate events.<br />
<br />
On the plus side, it has offered me the chance to be a stay at home mom to my youngest longer than I had previously anticipated; originally I was to return to work just before six weeks had passed, but now we are nearing four months and I'm still here. The side effects of my medication have led me to make some self-guided decisions for my health and sanity. In short, things have been rough.<br />
<br />
But there have been moments of quiet beauty. Brief as they are, and difficult as they are to see given our near-constant state of concern, fear, and hesitation, they have been amazing and soothing. Moments seeing all three of our children together, interacting; watching the older boys hug and cling to their tiny sibling with a love I never thought I'd see either express until they were parents themselves. I have taken pride in the fact that despite the mountains we've had to climb, and after he got down to 7 lbs 5 oz (after being born at 8 lbs 1 oz) that now at nearly four months old he is 15 lbs 10 oz - a huge jump that I know is thanks to my breast milk, my body producing what he needs to grow and thrive. After two miserable, difficult breastfeeding experiences, my time with E has been a welcome change.<br />
<br />
There are, of course, other things. A has been having trouble hearing, something that bothers us considerably as he is nearly five and already has a clear and noticeable speech impediment. After struggling with him for some time and after he failed a requested hearing test at school we took him to the audiologist and confirmed severe hearing loss; his left ear drum isn't moving and his right is only barely functioning, while simultaneously they are in bad shape. He has fluid behind both eardrums, and his doctor assumes this is because his Eustachian tubes simply never figured out how to clear themselves and "pop" as our ears do. We hope to soon enlist the assistance of a chiropractor to try to clear them out, but if that doesn't work he will likely be having tubes put in. I had tubes when I was little, and I remember them most clearly as being a huge pain in the butt for numerous reasons. I don't wish this on him, but obviously we will do whatever we need to.<br />
<br />
E has also recently gotten sick, what appears to be a nasty upper respiratory infection that is causing his eyes to goop up too. We confirmed (thankfully) that it isn't RSV, although his doctor's office says they can't really test for anything else, but the gunk in his lungs has led to us getting him a nebulizer to try to clear him up enough to make him more comfortable as he recovers from his first illness.<br />
<br />
So there you are. I won't rant on about our troubles right now; that seems to be all I do anyway. Just an update, if anyone is still out there.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0