I just watched a news story about "Mommy Thumb". This is a tragic (read sarcasm) condition that can occur when new mothers lift their children. Think about when you lift a baby or toddler, thumbs under the arms and lift, right? The news actually interviewed mothers that reportedly have this disabling ailment. Apparently this is so prevalent it has now become newsworthy, or maybe it was just a super slow news day. Are you kidding me? When exactly did we all become such a bunch of wusses? Did these women forget about giving birth? Mommy Thumb, seriously?? Did you forget that your butt is now an inch or more lower than it was, or that parts of you expanded far beyond reason to accommodate that baby? Your complaint is about your thumb?
So Mom's of babies beware. Your baby is just a few months old and has already put your body through that fun experience, and now you can look forward to Mommy Thumb. I'm afraid I have more bad news, and you may not see any of this on the news.
You can look forward to most if not all of the following ailments:
I like to call this one, "Blurt Mouth". This is an unfortunate condition that many toddler/preschool age children come down with. It causes in Mothers what I call "Red Face". Blurt Mouth shows up with no particular warning. A typical occurrence consists of your precious child yelling out something along the lines of, "Look Mommy, that man is so fat" in a quiet restaurant. Now if it wasn't true, it would not cause Mother's "Red Face", but since it is true, you have just come down with a case of it. Another example, you are in a bathroom stall with your three year old. It's large bathroom, but it appears you are sharing it with only one other person who is clearly experiencing some loud digestive problems. Instead of taking care of business, your three year old continues asking loudly, "WHAT is THAT noise mommy?" Unfortunately there is a no cure for Blurt Mouth and it can occur later in life as well. An example of a later in life episode would be when your 10 year old incessantly asks the man driving the shuttle bus at the airport what happened to his clearly deformed arm that he is trying to hide while simultaneously ignoring your sweet child who is just out of your reach and not looking at your horrified face while having their Blurt Mouth episode. The only know cure for Red Face is to leave the scene of the crime, but the scars never go away.
Another one that you'll certainly catch is "A Dose of Your Own Medicine". This one happens when your child catches a slight variation of Blurt Mouth and loudly explains how they are punished or at least threatened to be, in public. An example, your sweet four year old is pestering the living heck out of you in the department store dressing room. You beg for silence even though this is a ridiculous request to be taken seriously by this ailing child. Your child then loudly asks, "or what, you'll duct tape my mouth and hang me up on the wall?" You have just been given "A Dose of Your Own Medicine". You never meant it when you said you would duct tape them, but it doesn't matter. Blurt Mouth gives these children an uncanny ability to say the things you would least like a stranger to hear. The only cure for this one is to not make silly punishment threats, and we know that is impossible.
Another one that you will surely come across is "Twitch Eye" This is probably the most common mommy complaint. Twitch Eye can happen when your kids are any age and basically it is just what it sounds like, a twitch, in your eye. My first encounter with Twitch Eye was while driving my mini van when my oldest daughter was about four. My Grandmother was with us, while driving. My daughter was being a pill and I told her she needed to knock it off or I'd pull the car over and spank her. (See above ailment, it is just not possible to stop making those punishment threats). She proceeded to offend and I said nothing. Then in a cruel twist of Blurt Mouth combined with A Dose of Your Own Medicine, she said, "Aren't you going to pull the car over and spank me now Mommy?" Twitch eye has unfortunate side effects such as making you want to drive the car off the road or perhaps ground the offender for an extended time frame for their own safety.
I could go on, and I will in a later post. For now, new Moms beware. The worst has yet to come!
By the way, I am not making any of this up. I currently have, or have had every one of these ailments.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Dad's Birthday is Today!
This year I have written blogs about my kids on their birthdays and I really enjoyed doing so. I'm playing with the idea of doing this on many birthdays over the course of next year. I thought I'd start with my Dad.
Dad was born this day in 1941, in Pearl Harbor, just nine days after the bombing. I think that is incredibly cool. I was wondering last week if he could join the Pearl Harbor Survivor's club....he was technically there. He grew up in La Mesa after a brief stint in Cleveland. He played little league in La Mesa and lived on Dana Drive, which was close to where my Mom grew up on Harbinson. He had a great dog named Tippy and a duck that hated his Mother. Mom and Dad went to the same school, but Mom was younger so they didn't date until later. Dad joined the Air Force and spent some time in Germany. See, I did listen. You said I didn't listen!
Some of my first memories with my Dad are when we would go "dirtin" in the back yard. I loved to help him in the garden. He was always great about giving me my own plants. I always got a couple of my own to plant or an area with just my seeds. We had fucshias, ferns, vegetables and boysenberries. One time we were working in the garden in the very back portion of our huge yard and a swarm of bees came swooping down the giant hill the lead into our yard. We had to run to get into the house. That was cool! When Dad built the patio onto the house we had a tarantula on the patio. That was creepy. Speaking of spiders and creepy - one time I was putting my bike away behind the gate. I got the gate open and then realized there was a very large black and yellow spider. Bigger than the tarantula. I KNEW it was going to jump on my face and kill me and I froze, while screaming. My Mom came out of the house and told me to get away from the spider. Seems so simple, but I sure as hell couldn't think of it. She made my Dad come home from work and he killed it with a big stick that had a stiff wire net on it for catching crawdads. Dang it sounds like I grew up in Alabama. My Dad made the crawdad catcher thingy and we went hunting in the riverbed of the San Diego river if I recall correctly. Once I figured out what the hell a crawdad was, I was OUT. I think I was about seven. Luckily he saved the day by catching a huge tadpole that we raised to frogdome and let go at Lake Murray. So lots of good childhood memories.
Then I grew up. We parted ways when I was about 13. Just couldn't get along. By then the parents were divorced. I had been living with Dad in the house I grew up in. Mom moved away when they divorced. In a stroke of parenting genius Mom and Dad figured a way for Dad to leave the house and Mom to come back and I got to stay put. Good work parents. I loved that house and neighborhood, leaving would have destroyed me. So we had some rough years.
I think things started getting better when I had Samantha. Unfortunately, for reasons I now totally get, Dad and Sandee (Step Mom) moved to North Carolina. At the time, I was so angry. I spent some years pretty angry. No need to discuss that here, it's all water under the bridge. Given the circumstances I sure as hell would have left as well.
Today I am so lucky to have such a wonderful Dad. I'm so pleased that we are closer than ever. This year we had a great trip to Vegas and I am so glad we went. I think we should go once a year and I mean that. I do wish you were closer, but I understand, I really do. I am so glad you have a wonderful wife that makes you happy. I am grateful that I was able to find a man, like you, who puts family first and works hard to make me happy every day. Happy Birthday Daddy.
Dad was born this day in 1941, in Pearl Harbor, just nine days after the bombing. I think that is incredibly cool. I was wondering last week if he could join the Pearl Harbor Survivor's club....he was technically there. He grew up in La Mesa after a brief stint in Cleveland. He played little league in La Mesa and lived on Dana Drive, which was close to where my Mom grew up on Harbinson. He had a great dog named Tippy and a duck that hated his Mother. Mom and Dad went to the same school, but Mom was younger so they didn't date until later. Dad joined the Air Force and spent some time in Germany. See, I did listen. You said I didn't listen!
Some of my first memories with my Dad are when we would go "dirtin" in the back yard. I loved to help him in the garden. He was always great about giving me my own plants. I always got a couple of my own to plant or an area with just my seeds. We had fucshias, ferns, vegetables and boysenberries. One time we were working in the garden in the very back portion of our huge yard and a swarm of bees came swooping down the giant hill the lead into our yard. We had to run to get into the house. That was cool! When Dad built the patio onto the house we had a tarantula on the patio. That was creepy. Speaking of spiders and creepy - one time I was putting my bike away behind the gate. I got the gate open and then realized there was a very large black and yellow spider. Bigger than the tarantula. I KNEW it was going to jump on my face and kill me and I froze, while screaming. My Mom came out of the house and told me to get away from the spider. Seems so simple, but I sure as hell couldn't think of it. She made my Dad come home from work and he killed it with a big stick that had a stiff wire net on it for catching crawdads. Dang it sounds like I grew up in Alabama. My Dad made the crawdad catcher thingy and we went hunting in the riverbed of the San Diego river if I recall correctly. Once I figured out what the hell a crawdad was, I was OUT. I think I was about seven. Luckily he saved the day by catching a huge tadpole that we raised to frogdome and let go at Lake Murray. So lots of good childhood memories.
Then I grew up. We parted ways when I was about 13. Just couldn't get along. By then the parents were divorced. I had been living with Dad in the house I grew up in. Mom moved away when they divorced. In a stroke of parenting genius Mom and Dad figured a way for Dad to leave the house and Mom to come back and I got to stay put. Good work parents. I loved that house and neighborhood, leaving would have destroyed me. So we had some rough years.
I think things started getting better when I had Samantha. Unfortunately, for reasons I now totally get, Dad and Sandee (Step Mom) moved to North Carolina. At the time, I was so angry. I spent some years pretty angry. No need to discuss that here, it's all water under the bridge. Given the circumstances I sure as hell would have left as well.
Today I am so lucky to have such a wonderful Dad. I'm so pleased that we are closer than ever. This year we had a great trip to Vegas and I am so glad we went. I think we should go once a year and I mean that. I do wish you were closer, but I understand, I really do. I am so glad you have a wonderful wife that makes you happy. I am grateful that I was able to find a man, like you, who puts family first and works hard to make me happy every day. Happy Birthday Daddy.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Tech Support Suicide
I'm here writing now because if I don't get the feelings out, I will need to wake my family to inform them of my dismay. They need sleep, I get that. I already woke hubby up a couple times early on is his attempted slumber to inform him of my issue.
For the past 6 years I have created a photobook using MyPublisher.com. They offer great products, easy to use software, fair prices and great customer service... I thought. My experience has been superior up until today. I've been working on "the book" for this year all week. I love "the book". I hate making the book. It's a labor of love that requires hours of viewing hundreds of photos for a handful that will make the 40 page book. Let me tell you, we take about 15 pictures for every decent one.
I'm in this year for at least 15 hours. Tonight Donald previewed the book and it was great. I had to go into the book and edit some fonts. Done deal. While editing the program closed itself. When I rebooted and opened again, I had access to the book I made last year and nothing else. I tried several times. I contacted chat support and was cut off several times. When I finally made a good contact I was told the book resides on my hard drive (big mistake MyPublisher, everything is web based these days). I back up my hard drive to an external drive. The book isn't there either. The book appears at this point to be gone. So family members who get a book, your book was going to be late....how's February?
Ultimately the tech support person sent me instructions to attempt to recover the book. I have a call with senior tech support in the morning. I hope it isn't gone. Some years the book is a breeze. Everything is so great it writes itself. This year was a total turd I had to polish the hell of. I'm not sure I have it in me to do it again.
For the past 6 years I have created a photobook using MyPublisher.com. They offer great products, easy to use software, fair prices and great customer service... I thought. My experience has been superior up until today. I've been working on "the book" for this year all week. I love "the book". I hate making the book. It's a labor of love that requires hours of viewing hundreds of photos for a handful that will make the 40 page book. Let me tell you, we take about 15 pictures for every decent one.
I'm in this year for at least 15 hours. Tonight Donald previewed the book and it was great. I had to go into the book and edit some fonts. Done deal. While editing the program closed itself. When I rebooted and opened again, I had access to the book I made last year and nothing else. I tried several times. I contacted chat support and was cut off several times. When I finally made a good contact I was told the book resides on my hard drive (big mistake MyPublisher, everything is web based these days). I back up my hard drive to an external drive. The book isn't there either. The book appears at this point to be gone. So family members who get a book, your book was going to be late....how's February?
Ultimately the tech support person sent me instructions to attempt to recover the book. I have a call with senior tech support in the morning. I hope it isn't gone. Some years the book is a breeze. Everything is so great it writes itself. This year was a total turd I had to polish the hell of. I'm not sure I have it in me to do it again.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Demonstrations of Love
Something I have been challenged about of late. How do we know the people we love are shown love in the way they need to receive it? People who know me well know I have been married three times. I am happy to say I have my keeper finally!
I was first engaged when I was 18. I was silly and in love and somehow thought I needed to be married to "start my life" I'm really not sure where I got this idea, but I had it. I moved out at 18 with my boyfriend (somewhat older than I) and just felt like once I was married my life would begin. That whole topic is probably worth exploring later (on the couch). My intended and I were required to go to pre marital counseling. Red flag, if you have no church and simply choose one and are required to go to counseling...well that might be a red flag. For me it was and I chose not to see it. I can't recall anything about the counseling with the exception of one concept. The concept, giving and receiving love and how perceptions differ.
Think about that. No, think about it. What if two of the most loving, in love people cannot connect once love settles into the comfort of daily lives? Be clear, we are talking about three to five years or more into a relationship. Most of us can keep the spark alive for a few years. Some of us suffer for a while longer. Some of us really get it, the lucky ones, the ones who work. Love must find a way to settle into the day to day lives we lead. And by settle, I certainly don't mean settle. I mean settle by finding comfort in the day to day struggles and by gaining strength in making progress.
But what does love mean? For everyone the answer will differ. The secret is to know what love means and how it can be demonstrated to your love, and to know yourself well enough to know the answers to the questions for yourself.
I was first engaged when I was 18. I was silly and in love and somehow thought I needed to be married to "start my life" I'm really not sure where I got this idea, but I had it. I moved out at 18 with my boyfriend (somewhat older than I) and just felt like once I was married my life would begin. That whole topic is probably worth exploring later (on the couch). My intended and I were required to go to pre marital counseling. Red flag, if you have no church and simply choose one and are required to go to counseling...well that might be a red flag. For me it was and I chose not to see it. I can't recall anything about the counseling with the exception of one concept. The concept, giving and receiving love and how perceptions differ.
Think about that. No, think about it. What if two of the most loving, in love people cannot connect once love settles into the comfort of daily lives? Be clear, we are talking about three to five years or more into a relationship. Most of us can keep the spark alive for a few years. Some of us suffer for a while longer. Some of us really get it, the lucky ones, the ones who work. Love must find a way to settle into the day to day lives we lead. And by settle, I certainly don't mean settle. I mean settle by finding comfort in the day to day struggles and by gaining strength in making progress.
But what does love mean? For everyone the answer will differ. The secret is to know what love means and how it can be demonstrated to your love, and to know yourself well enough to know the answers to the questions for yourself.
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