Motherhood Uncensored

So what are you doing for Valentine's Day next year?

Don't Give Up, Never Give Up

I publicly vowed that I would not write about Jon and Kate Plus 8, but fuck it. I'm a heathen and twitter vows mean absolutely nothing to me.

Now I could sit and analyze Jon and Kate's relationship and their personalities and narcissistic behavior and "OMFG what is with her hair????" for hours.

But some super smart and funny folks have already done that.

Instead, I want to tell you that I was so incredibly bothered by the whole thing because my husband and I were there just a few months ago.

We were sitting on separate sides of the couch, arms crossed, body language so blatantly screaming "I fucking hate you" that we didn't even need to say anything at all.

I was bitter and resentful and bossy.

And he used to be out late nights, getting text messages from random ex-girlfriends.

Praise the Lord for lack of birth control and better jobs. It made all the difference in the world.

Most of the time he became my sounding board for frustration over being alone and dealing with the in-laws and anything else that I was angry about.

I pushed three fucking kids out of my poor vagina so I have the right to be pissed at the world.

Or him.

He took my brow beatings, and I put up with his immature bullshit.

And lo and behold, we found ourselves on that same couch.

That was until I watched the Sex and the City movie for the 14000th time while my husband was yet again out of town and I realized that if Miranda could forgive Steve, then what the hell am I doing being mad at my husband (who didn't even sleep with someone else).

I was sick of being sorry for myself and living in a miserable place that was completely and utterly in my control to change.

It prompted me to get off my ass and write my husband this long, poetic email about how I'd been a royal bitch and it's not fair to the kids for us to be like this.

[note: As a writer and a terribly messy cryer, I express myself waaay better in words than over conversation]

It was a breaking point.

I'm willing to work on this for the kids, I told him.

And when he got home, he looked at me and asked me what I wanted for me.

What I wanted for us.

He told me that it wasn't good enough for him to want to work it out for the kids. Neither of us would never ever truly be happy.

And he was right.

So from that point on, we decided to leave the web of resentment, hurt, abandonment, anger, and everything else that we'd been juggling for the last five years on that damn couch. We picked ourselves up and we decided that we wanted to stay together for the kids.

But also, for ourselves.

So when Jon and Kate sat there, with their anger and bitterness all poking out of his blossoming beer belly and her bizarrely spiky hair, I got mad. I got mad that they let a television show and years of whatever get in the way of what was probably something good. Or at least good enough to make all those beautiful kids.

My husband and I have been through a lot of crazy shit over the last five years.

I promise you, it was pretty fucking crazy.

Maybe it wasn't as hard as having to take care of eight children. On days when I was alone, in my in-laws' house, with a post-it note on my door telling me to clean up, I can pretty much say it was darn close. When he said some crazy things to me, and I said some crazy things to him, and I felt the only way I could get through to him was to hit myself in the head with a vase, it was the lowest of low.

But even so, it pains me to see two people not willing to fight for their relationship.

I never thought that I'd be the one fighting for this one. I was more than happy to just sit on opposite ends of a bench with our kids in the middle, smile for the camera, and then rush off into my own personal misery, most of which I blamed on my husband.

I don't know Jon and Kate and I probably never will.

I still think they're pretty self-centered and I question a lot of their decisions as of late.

But in some ways, I feel like we're all kindred spirits in this journey of parenthood and marriage, lighting the way for each other in what can be a pretty challenging ride.

No matter how obviously careless, obsessively germaphobic, or follically challenged they may be, when a light goes out, I can't help but mourn the loss.

Not just for their kids. But for them as well.

Edited to add: I absolutely do not agree with staying together for the kids when there's abuse or repeated breach of trust present. I grew up in a home where I never felt safe and I prayed every night that my mom would leave. But my dad was never invested in being a father or a husband.

I'd like to think that people can change. And while the huz was nothing near to being how my father was, he's definitely changed. I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt - and he's giving it to me. We both felt that the wrongs we committed weren't enough for us to break up.

But I do know how bad it can get. And also how good it can be to forgive. It takes both people to be willing to do that - if that's even an option.

Free to be you and me

Considering the last time I read an entire book from cover to cover was on the plane to the BlogHer Conference 2006, I've learned to put any and all reading material that needs to be read in the bathroom.

Perhaps that was one thing you didn't need to know about me, but I figured since you know my vagina tends to drop tampons, what's so bad about sharing my bathroom habits?

I suppose that's not something Rita Arens thought of when we she was asking us for "Sleep is for the Weak" quotes.

From contributor Kristen Chase: "Full of hilarious and heartbreaking essays that are the perfect length for those magical private poop breaks."

Anyhow, my point is, I don't read a lot.

And I'm completely embarrassed about it, because to be a good writer,  you really need to read more than the dosage levels on a Tylenol bottle and a shopping list.

So I suppose it's a little awkward that I get a lot of books to review, most of them completely unsolicited. I review a few for Cool Mom Picks - mostly the funny, short picture books or cool gift books that don't require actual reading or books by dear friends that you feel fortunate to read.

But when a PR person sent me an email about "Raising Freethinkers," the follow-up to one of my favorite parenting books "Parenting Beyond Belief" by Dale McGowan, I immediately said "Yes, I want one!"
Sadly, that doesn't usually ever mean I'll read or review it (note the number of book reviews I've done here - um, zero), but I've got that whole karma thing happening so I'm only saying "yes" to books that I'm absolutely 100% going to read.

I've written many posts about my difficulties with parenting with religion (or parenting without religion while your kid attends a Catholic School, or whatever you want to call it), and PBB really made me feel less like a heathen.

So if PBB was telling you it was okay to be a heathen, er secular parent "Raising Freethinkers" is basically a hands-on, practical guide on how to be one.

And it's amazing.

At first, I was just reading it to read it, and because as it turns out, Dale lives in Atlanta and due to a bizarre discovery (true story: I put my blog name in Amazon late one night when I was feeling sorry for myself to search to see what came up and this book came up), he included my blog in his book even before I had read it and it was still sitting on my night table and NOT in my bathroom.

Night table? That's my aspirational reading pile. Or my glasses holders. Or coasters.

Under 12 blogs we love:

Kristen Chase is a foul-mouthed, cynical, cut-the-crap mother of two with no sense of propriety or common decency. I adore her. Like me, she is a also a former music professor recently relocated to the Deep South.

I emailed him "Hi Dale, Just saw that I was in your book. Um, I think thanks are in order?"

I perused it during my bathroom breaks until family members starting dying and my daughter starting exhibiting some "learning about ourselves - yes that type of learning" behaviors and I figured I needed some guidance.

Now I'm not here to knock religion, but I think even religious people can admit that religious-related explanations for the "big stuff," like death, sex, marriage, you name it, are often times a cop out.

"Well, he went to heaven and he's in a better place."

THE END.

Huh?

It's one thing if you go into a bit of discussion about heaven and what that means, but most often, there is no discussion, because really, what parent knows how to discuss that stuff?

It's difficult and confusing and overwhelming.

So just saying "He went to heaven" is way easier. Like we need more stuff to complicate our lives.

But that doesn't really help my kids. And if they're asking the questions and they're experiencing new things about life, then I feel as though it's my job as a parent to answer them - as uncomfortable and as squirmy as it makes me.

That's my job.

And that's what "Raising Freethinkers" does.

Dale, along with his fellow authors, discusses everything from existing as a secular family in a religious world, to finding personal meaning in life (and explaining that to your kids) without religion as the sole purpose for our existence. There are chapters and explaining the idea of a physical and sexual self to your kids, as well as discussions on death and life.

Don't get me wrong. If you're a devoutly religious person, this book probably isn't for you. But I think even someone who is religious can appreciate their straightforward and very thoughtful approaches to sexuality, self-esteem, relationships, life and death, and personal morals and ethics.

They're not necessarily knocking religion, either. They just provide parents who are seeking another way a guidebook on how to deal with a world that is strongly faith based.

Gout, Glaucoma, and TB - Oh My!

The exciting part about checking my 23andMe profile is that things are always changing. One week I'll go in and find new research on breast cancer and Endometriosis. And on other weeks, like this one, I'll find a whole slew of diseases that I'm at an increased risk for!!!!!!!

Did I mask my anxiety with all those exclamation points?

Didn't think so.

But boy there is some interesting stuff happening, especially in my profile.

One look at you might think I was Courtney Love.

I've got an increased risk for Heroin addiction (who needs alcohol when you can go for the hard stuff?) and Tourettes.

DAMNIT!

(ha).

[Side note: Did anyone see that special last night on 20/20 about kids with Tourettes? Heartbreaking.]

Also, gout, glaucoma, and tuberculosis.

It's important to realize that these reports have varying levels of confidence, which 23andMe makes sure to notate (using a very friendly star system - only two stars of confidence on my heroin addiction propensity but three on TB - yikes). Additionally, they site the journal articles so that you realize it's not just some random shot in the dark.

Then again, it depends on how much you believe in the accuracy of scientific research, which in order to provide these numbers and risks, has to use samples. Are the samples completely representative? Probably not. But it's completely fascinating to me.

And at least now I have a bit of an excuse for my sailor mouth. (ahem).

I'm actually at a moderately increased risk for something that my mom has and is currently dealing with, which I'll talk more about next week. And if you're like "WTF is this?" go read my post about my participation in the 23andme Genome Project.

Dream a little dream with me

It's not surprising that during my current lackluster sleep training efforts of one cold-ridden and super teething little baby, my REM and therefore dreams have been incredibly inconsistent.

Look at that blatant insolence. Unbelievable.

Add in a bunch of other sick, half-sick, and almost unsick kids and I'm lucky to actually get to close my eyes before someone is calling for boobs or water or to "wrap me up like a burrito, MOOOMMMY!."

 

Selfish, selfish. The whole lot of them. Seriously, the nerve.

In the past, my dreams have been almost completely realistic life revelations. No flying clowns hovering over rickety bridges to be interpreted by a Google search and questionable website or large expensive hardback book in the "Astrology" section of the bookstore.

Just plain old, scarily literal dreams, expressing quite clearly what's weighing on my mind.

I admit, it can be a little disconcerting, and often times confusing. I've woken up on many a day and wondered if that actually happened.

I suppose it might be a good thing that I haven't had those dreams in awhile, because considering I'm running on about four completely whole and functioning brain cells, I'd probably be really messed up.

But last night, amidst shoving a boob in one little crying mouth and dosing another hot one with tylenol, I had a dream.

I was dressed in a beautiful wedding dress, surprised by a husband in uniform, home from a long deployment, just in time for us to renew our vows.

Apparently his upcoming call to duty during our 5th wedding anniversary is weighing heavier on me than I thought.

But more telling to me was to see that instead of running away screaming, I'm willing to hop right up to the altar with him yet again.

Oh how far we've come.

 

KnD 4-Ever!!!!!!!!!!! Class of '89