Motherhood Uncensored

Something Happened on My Trip to Phoenix

You don't really know me. I mean, for whatever reason, you read my blog. Maybe it's regularly. Or maybe you just stopped by here on your way to somewhere else. You can tell a little bit about me from my picture, my funny quips, and my well meant diatribes. And, you know I'm a mom. But, I used to be someone else.

I finished my master's degree in a year, wrote a 150 page thesis in a week, and finished 2 textbooks in 2 years. I started an undergraduate program in 2 months, taught 9 classes a week, and presented at numerous conferences. I published 4 scholarly articles and revised a well-known music therapy text. I worked with kids with disabilities, people with mental illnesses, and folks with traumatic brain injuries. And, I was good at it. All of it.

But I gave it up when my daughter arrived. Instantly.

And I quit working with clients/patients and teaching (for the most part). I could barely even bring myself to say the words "music therapy." Even though I spent almost 15 years of my life helping people and students in need, I could barely bring myself to sing one more song or teach one more class for them.

But when I gave up my work, I felt like I lost a part of me. Okay. Almost all of me. Because work was my life.

And now I'm a mom and I blog. And that's how you know me. And you didn't know about all that great stuff I did nor did you really even care. You just read me because you liked what I said and that was really all you needed to know.

So, I miss my work. And quite frankly, I miss feeling important and smart everyday. I just don't get that being a mom these days.

But all that praise was for what I did and not who I was. And when all of that was gone, I felt like I had nothing. That I was nothing.

So I wonder if I had never stopped working if I would have ever found blogging. And if I had never found blogging, I wonder how long it would have taken me to find myself. And while you would  have never known the difference with one less blog on your bloglines or blogroll, I would have.

Because for the first time ever, I have work and I have me - What I do and who I am. And I like both. Separately.

So for whatever reason you stop by my place, or decide that you like my stuff want to read more, it feels good to be liked and read for ME and not WHAT I DO. Because what I write (if you haven't figured that out yet) is really me. And all that other crap doesn't make me the Motherhood Uncensored that you've come to know.

And I like that. A lot.

Psssssttttt... Hey You. I'm Stuck.

*See update below...

That's right. I'm stuck here. In a Mississippi airport the size of my armpit (it has one gate. For real). I woke up at 4am and sped out the door without even a kiss for my sweet baby (although I slept in her room the whole night so I guess that kind of counts for something) just to sit my ass on a crappy plane for an hour ON THE GROUND.

So, instead of a fabulous lunch at a Native American museum and a walking/shopping tour of downtown Flagstaff, I'm sitting in a vending machine cafeteria, still in Mississippi, deciding whether to eat skittles and a lemonade or to just hop in my car and hit the local Waffle House (oh the choices...).

But, as you might have imagined, I have already encountered the following:

• A former psych patient of mine carrying a large zip lock bag full of meds. 
• A very odd woman slugging tomato juice from a can at 5am.
• A sobbing mother on her laptop. Oh wait, that's me reading this and this.
• Two airline personnel try to shove a large airpipe into a very small hole in the plane. Turns out, that's why we're still on the ground.

So, enjoy the tour of my lovely town (scroll down) and I'll hopefully be checking in with you from Arizona.

**Update: Well, the plane actually got fixed and I made it in one piece to Atlanta and then Phoenix. Here's what I have learned so far:

1) Do not buy a reuben to eat on the plane. It's messy and very stinky.

2) Buy the damn $2 headphones. Chances are it's worth it to enjoy a movie that's not the muppets or Pooh in peace.

3) Bring stuff to do. Your internet connection doesn't seem to work at 25,000 ft and you aren't going to get this much time alone to read, write, or pick your nose (discreetly of course) until um Blogher!

4) Bring Gas-X. See #1.

5) In theory, it's nice to stay at a fellow music therapist's house. However, when they have two cute 5 and 8 year old daughters who think you are their new friend and want to show you their live snake pet after you having not slept for 21 hours, it's probably not so great. Joey Pants' room is looking damn good right now, Mom-101.

6) Phoenix is dry, hot, and way better than Mississippi.

7) Anywhere is better than Mississippi.

8) People are paying to listen to me talk for 5 hours tomorrow. I better go figure out what I'm going to say that doesn't start with "On my blog..." or "I was reading this blog..."

On My Way to The Bank

It should say Drugs, Food, Smiles, and Robeez. Yes. I've been in there.

She likes gospel records and he, er, Bryan, likes amphibians. Don't ask how I know this.

Yes. That says Bling Bling with a Touch of Class. Duh.

Free At Last

The number of mennonite moustached nurses it took to hold her down: 3

The number of candies consumed during the process: 2

The number of pair of shoes I bought for her to celebrate: 1

The sheer joy of being freed from the dreaded cast: Priceless

And PS...

This is an appropriate granola baby restraining device. That is all.

Hey, I'm at dot-moms today. Care to visit and say hello? It'll be worth it, I promise. 

An Open Apology to those readers with IDS (Irony Deficiency Syndrome)

Dear Certain Afflicted Readers ~

It has come to my attention that perhaps you were unable to see my large, pink tongue nestled comfortably in my cheek. I believe my naivete got the better of me. Who am I to question the choices of a young mother of the organic tree hugging kind? And particularly since I just came off the cusp of a heartfelt post on mothers uniting together. Maybe it should have been "shame. on. me."

It's obvious that I should have considered that many of my readers don't realize that I live in Mississippi, the most anti-granola state in the Union. You know, where people serve pork-rinds and chitlins at a dinner party and barbeque is considered fine cuisine.

I mistakingly thought that you might gather that it's easier to find a liberal atheist democrat around these parts than someone like my twice removed crunchy cousin. I'm pretty sure she probably had to make those hemp pants by hand, special ordering her material while enduring dirty looks at the local fabric shop. Oh the hassle. Oh the time spent.

And silly me to think that you would figure out that someone who would go through so much trouble to, as her appearance and conversation indicated, eat hard-to-find foods and perhaps use organic washable feminine hygiene products (which, while I do agree is great for the environment does require a decent amount of extra work) would most likely get weird looks from people who would consider her choice to be somewhat out-of-touch with her supposed belief system. I mean, if you are going to let everything else "roam free," why would you not allow your child to do the same?

Well, I am here to say that I have a new outlook on this topic. Maybe it was that I was accused of being judgmental or perhaps it's because I too worry about my daughter running off at the various state fairs we frequent. But in either case, I have decided that maybe I need to broaden my horizons, try new things, and "unleash" my own preconceived notions about certain topics. So, call me a lazy parent or even British, but I decided it might be time to give this type of device a whirl.

 

Now this is my kind of leash. I'll make sure to bring it to Blogher - you know, in case I get to wandering off and all. Rrrrrrrrrowwwwlllll.

Warmest Regards,

Motherhood Uncensored