Last night I got to thinking about how much the T.V. is on in this house. In the beginning, I started allowing the television to be on for about an hour in the mornings so that I could get through the morning routine more smoothly. Then I started allowing a movie in the evening as a means to wind down. But last night, when I put my mind to it, I realized that now the T.V. is literally on all day and it is always playing shows that are geared to children.
In some ways, I feel that I am justified in allow some use of the television. I am a full time student and I have a lot on my plate. The T.V. allows me to get homework done on days on which I am unable to complete the amount of work that I need to get done during nap time. However, the more I think about that "reason" the more that I realize that it is an excuse that I use to cover up the fact that I may have become a tad lazy in the last year.
Upon the realization that I may be making a critical parenting mistake, I decided last night to institute "No T.V. Tuesdays and Thursdays." It was a brilliant plan. Since my husband is off on Fridays and Saturdays we generally watch less television on those days. So, by adding two "No T.V." days, I would be making it so that the days without the boob tube would outnumber the days with. It was a brilliant plan. It was inspired. But what I didn't count on was what it would cause me to realize. DUN DUN DUN!!!
I realized today that not only had I become a little bit lazy, I have made a huge parenting error. The morning went fairly smoothly. Having to go to the pediatrician made it so that the morning went by quickly. Then there was nap time, which lasted until about 4. After nap, all hell broke loose.
Now, I have heard before that T.V. kills the imagination. I knew full well that kids who watch too much T.V. generally exhibit a tendency toward less creative play. What I didn't realize is that this would actually apply to my household. There was crying, there was wandering around, there was clinging to mommy like a barnacle. What wasn't happening was the use of the hundreds of dollars worth of toys in this house.
All of the play silks sat unloved. The wooden cars were neglected. The baby dolls were shunned. The play food was scattered by my attempt to "cook breakfast."I was left to wonder, "What have I done?" And then to panic and start to go insane thinking, "Can I fix this?" The sad thing is that I am not an expert. I don't know if the damage is done.
What I do know is that effective immediately there is a television ban in effect. During any hour where anyone under the age of 24 (my age, Dave is older) is awake, the television shall remain off. After a month or two, if I see sufficient progress I might begin to allow an hour of T.V. on non-bath nights as a pre-bedtime wind down. However, at this point I would be content to throw the stupid thing out of the upstairs window.
I have been told by my recovering alcoholic mother that the first step to conquering a problem is admitting that you have one. Well, here I am admitting it. The Beemans have a television issue. However, we will let the box control us no more. Never again will we be sedentary. We shall henceforth not allow our minds to turn to jelly. We are revolting against the mindless box of doom. I am admitting that I made a mistake.
I know that a lot of parents would rather die than make an admission like the one that I have made. But I think it's important for me to admit that I made an error. I allowed convenience to outweigh best interests. I allowed school to come before my family. The thing is, I love my good grades but I could definitely find something else to sacrifice in order to achieve them. I made the wrong choice, I sacrificed my children. In no other aspect am I a convenience parent, so why would I lower my standards as far as their play time?
I can't really say why I did, what I can say is that I will not do it any longer. To know better is to do better, and starting today I believe that I have done much better. I'm going to take it a day at a time, with the T.V. off along the way. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Boobies on the Brain.
Yesterday a lot of people on various social networking sites that I frequent were doing a lot of talking about breastfeeding. I have been breastfeeding Archer for 25 months and since it was being spoken of yesterday, I started to really think about breastfeeding and my experience with it. I realized that a lot of the time I come off as a passionate breastfeeder, which I am. However, that was not always the case.
I did not breastfeed my daughter. In fact, I would be giving myself way too much credit if I said that I tried for a week. If I am completely honest about it, I think I only lasted a grand total of two days. The fact of the matter is that I had absolutely no support and I had a limited amount of knowledge about breastfeeding. Even though I went into motherhood with the desire to breastfeed, I don't think I could have named a single benefit of breastmilk vs. formula. I honestly thought that they were the same, except that breastfeeding was harder and you actually had to hold your baby when you did it.
I remember when my daughter was born and I would ask for help getting her latched on to my breast. It hurt terribly and she would just scream. I felt like if I could just get her on correctly, we would be good to go. The problem was that I gave birth to her on a Saturday. Apparently there are no lactation consultants in the hospital on Saturdays or Sundays. The busy nurses would come in and throw her on for me, but it never felt right nor did they actually show me what to do. We were discharged before we could speak to one and after that (being as I was 19, naive, scared, and alone) I thought WIC was the only resource I had. The ladies at WIC were not very encouraging. They seemed to have limited knowledge and the lactation consultant from WIC was rude, condescending, and seemed too busy for me.
Needless to say, by the time she was a week old she was exclusively formula fed. At the time, everyone I knew formula fed. I come from a town with a lot of teen moms and so even at 19, I did have a lot of mom friends. I cannot name a single one who breastfed past 8 weeks and even those who went 8 weeks were supplementing through that time. Because of this, I had no regrets. I thought that formula must be the right way to go because if breastfeeding really was any different I would surely know and surely more people would be doing it if it were better. That was the end of that, for the time being.
Fast forward about a year and a half. In June of 2007 I became pregnant with my son. My mother in law would always talk about how she breastfed both of her boys and she was always very strongly in favor of breastfeeding. Her daughter also breastfed her daughters for a year apiece. These were the first two women that I met who were completely pro-breastfeeding. Although neither of them gave me a lot of information, knowing them prompted me to look into it. Around that time, I also became a member of Cafemom (an online social network for moms) and I befriended several women who were "lactivists." They were extremely encouraging and supportive of me in my determination to nurse my son (I also credit them with turning me on to cloth diapering and most aspects of attachment parenting, but that's a different story).
Because of them, I began reading about breastfeeding. I also hired a doula (for other reasons), which wound up being a critical decision in regards to my breastfeeding relationship. I read everything that I could. I watched YouTube videos about breastmilk and breastfeeding. The amazing thing was that I was more interested and impacted by what I learned about the benefits of breast milk than I was with the tips and how-to information about breastfeeding. I could not believe the disservice I had done to my daughter.I could not believe that I had deprived her of the nutrients and I could not believe that I had deprived us both of the bond that breastfeeding encourages. I was devastated and sometimes I still am.
See the thing is, I had a lot of trouble bonding with my daughter. Now that she is 4, we are good to go. She is my little girl and I love her to pieces. But when she was between birth and 1 year, I was basically indifferent to her. I knew she was my responsibility and I took good care of her. I thought she was cute and I enjoyed dressing her up, but I could have taken or left motherhood. I was pretty detached and it was really hard for me to get to the point where I truly felt like a mother. On top of the issues that I had with bonding, my daughter was sick all of the time. She was born in October and by March she had had croup, RSV, several colds, and 3 ear infections. When I was reading about the benefits of breastfeeding, I felt like I had suddenly put my finger on something I had been searching to explain for almost 2 years. I had always wondered why I was not a "natural" at motherhood. I wondered what I was doing wrong that contributed to my child being sick all of the time. Well, there I had it. My problems could have been solved by breastfeeding. I believe that they would have, but I say could because I know that there are no guarantees.
However, I think that I affirmed my suspicions after I gave birth to my son. Immediately after he was born, my doula firmly expressed to the hospital staff that it was my wish to nurse immediately. She put her foot down and demanded that no one do a thing until I had fed him. He was placed in my arms (by the very disgruntled, male nurse) and our journey began. My doula showed me how to hold his head and how to cup my breast as I guided him to my nipple. He latched on immediately and things were going great. Then, my wonderful doula uttered the magic words that changed my life. She looked at me and said, "Now what you should be feeling is tug, tug, tug rather than pinch, pinch, pinch." Now, to you those may sound like just words. But to me, they were magic. I felt tug, tug, tug. And I also remembered, at that moment, that with my daughter I had felt pinch, pinch, pinch. At the time, since the nurse had latched her on, I figured that was how it was supposed to feel. Tug, tug, tug had never even crossed my mind. I had even taken the hospital's breastfeeding class before I had my daughter and they had spent so much time warning us to expect pain that I just figured pinch, pinch, pinch was normal.
So, here we are today. My son is 25 months old and he is still nursing. You know why? Because every time I felt the pinching, I would pop him off and then relatch him the way that my doula had taught me. She was the key. She helped me. She practiced what she preached and taught me what to do. I feel that I was abandoned by the medical system, the first time around. I feel that they encouraged breastfeeding for show, but they could really care less what any mother does. Why else would they latch my baby on for me and then leave the room without asking if I was ok? Why else would they tell me to call a lactation consultant if I was having trouble, yet send me home with endless formula coupons and samples? The fact of the matter is, that I was the victim of a very sad system. This is a system that has come to rely too heavily on formula manufacturers. This is a system that has gotten too commercial. I was a victim, my daughter was a victim, and I hope that just by writing this I will help to ensure that someone else will not be a victim.
I did not breastfeed my daughter. In fact, I would be giving myself way too much credit if I said that I tried for a week. If I am completely honest about it, I think I only lasted a grand total of two days. The fact of the matter is that I had absolutely no support and I had a limited amount of knowledge about breastfeeding. Even though I went into motherhood with the desire to breastfeed, I don't think I could have named a single benefit of breastmilk vs. formula. I honestly thought that they were the same, except that breastfeeding was harder and you actually had to hold your baby when you did it.
I remember when my daughter was born and I would ask for help getting her latched on to my breast. It hurt terribly and she would just scream. I felt like if I could just get her on correctly, we would be good to go. The problem was that I gave birth to her on a Saturday. Apparently there are no lactation consultants in the hospital on Saturdays or Sundays. The busy nurses would come in and throw her on for me, but it never felt right nor did they actually show me what to do. We were discharged before we could speak to one and after that (being as I was 19, naive, scared, and alone) I thought WIC was the only resource I had. The ladies at WIC were not very encouraging. They seemed to have limited knowledge and the lactation consultant from WIC was rude, condescending, and seemed too busy for me.
Needless to say, by the time she was a week old she was exclusively formula fed. At the time, everyone I knew formula fed. I come from a town with a lot of teen moms and so even at 19, I did have a lot of mom friends. I cannot name a single one who breastfed past 8 weeks and even those who went 8 weeks were supplementing through that time. Because of this, I had no regrets. I thought that formula must be the right way to go because if breastfeeding really was any different I would surely know and surely more people would be doing it if it were better. That was the end of that, for the time being.
Fast forward about a year and a half. In June of 2007 I became pregnant with my son. My mother in law would always talk about how she breastfed both of her boys and she was always very strongly in favor of breastfeeding. Her daughter also breastfed her daughters for a year apiece. These were the first two women that I met who were completely pro-breastfeeding. Although neither of them gave me a lot of information, knowing them prompted me to look into it. Around that time, I also became a member of Cafemom (an online social network for moms) and I befriended several women who were "lactivists." They were extremely encouraging and supportive of me in my determination to nurse my son (I also credit them with turning me on to cloth diapering and most aspects of attachment parenting, but that's a different story).
Because of them, I began reading about breastfeeding. I also hired a doula (for other reasons), which wound up being a critical decision in regards to my breastfeeding relationship. I read everything that I could. I watched YouTube videos about breastmilk and breastfeeding. The amazing thing was that I was more interested and impacted by what I learned about the benefits of breast milk than I was with the tips and how-to information about breastfeeding. I could not believe the disservice I had done to my daughter.I could not believe that I had deprived her of the nutrients and I could not believe that I had deprived us both of the bond that breastfeeding encourages. I was devastated and sometimes I still am.
See the thing is, I had a lot of trouble bonding with my daughter. Now that she is 4, we are good to go. She is my little girl and I love her to pieces. But when she was between birth and 1 year, I was basically indifferent to her. I knew she was my responsibility and I took good care of her. I thought she was cute and I enjoyed dressing her up, but I could have taken or left motherhood. I was pretty detached and it was really hard for me to get to the point where I truly felt like a mother. On top of the issues that I had with bonding, my daughter was sick all of the time. She was born in October and by March she had had croup, RSV, several colds, and 3 ear infections. When I was reading about the benefits of breastfeeding, I felt like I had suddenly put my finger on something I had been searching to explain for almost 2 years. I had always wondered why I was not a "natural" at motherhood. I wondered what I was doing wrong that contributed to my child being sick all of the time. Well, there I had it. My problems could have been solved by breastfeeding. I believe that they would have, but I say could because I know that there are no guarantees.
However, I think that I affirmed my suspicions after I gave birth to my son. Immediately after he was born, my doula firmly expressed to the hospital staff that it was my wish to nurse immediately. She put her foot down and demanded that no one do a thing until I had fed him. He was placed in my arms (by the very disgruntled, male nurse) and our journey began. My doula showed me how to hold his head and how to cup my breast as I guided him to my nipple. He latched on immediately and things were going great. Then, my wonderful doula uttered the magic words that changed my life. She looked at me and said, "Now what you should be feeling is tug, tug, tug rather than pinch, pinch, pinch." Now, to you those may sound like just words. But to me, they were magic. I felt tug, tug, tug. And I also remembered, at that moment, that with my daughter I had felt pinch, pinch, pinch. At the time, since the nurse had latched her on, I figured that was how it was supposed to feel. Tug, tug, tug had never even crossed my mind. I had even taken the hospital's breastfeeding class before I had my daughter and they had spent so much time warning us to expect pain that I just figured pinch, pinch, pinch was normal.
So, here we are today. My son is 25 months old and he is still nursing. You know why? Because every time I felt the pinching, I would pop him off and then relatch him the way that my doula had taught me. She was the key. She helped me. She practiced what she preached and taught me what to do. I feel that I was abandoned by the medical system, the first time around. I feel that they encouraged breastfeeding for show, but they could really care less what any mother does. Why else would they latch my baby on for me and then leave the room without asking if I was ok? Why else would they tell me to call a lactation consultant if I was having trouble, yet send me home with endless formula coupons and samples? The fact of the matter is, that I was the victim of a very sad system. This is a system that has come to rely too heavily on formula manufacturers. This is a system that has gotten too commercial. I was a victim, my daughter was a victim, and I hope that just by writing this I will help to ensure that someone else will not be a victim.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Cohesion
I have decided that I need my blog to be more cohesive. The posts need to have a theme to keep them all aligned. However, my life (and my brain) is so all over the place, that this is difficult for me. I have a couple of ideas for themes, but I would love some suggestions. My ideas all involve things that are important to me, here they are:
1. Parenting: I am definitely what could/would be termed as an AP mom and I am also definitely crunchy. We cloth diaper, co-sleep, breastfeed, babywear, etc. We are also avid recyclers and take measures to make sure that our home is eco-friendly and toxin free.
2. Equality: I am a very liberal individual, however my main cause is equality. I am extremely passionate about gay rights. I really have no idea why I am so attached to the issue, although I do have several gay friends and family members, but I always have been and I feel really connected to it. Someone told me once that a straight female perspective on gay rights would be interesting, so I think that it might be a winning idea.
3. My journey with weight loss and depression: this was originally what this blog was supposed to be about. However, I sometimes worry that it would get boring and depressing. However, these two things are always a struggle for me and do consume a large part of my life.
4. Adventures in Beemanland: This would be largely about my family life and our day to day adventures without giving parenting advice or being an activist. I would probably take a humorous stance.
Ok folks, I need your help. Those are the ideas that I have but I would LOVE and dearly appreciate your creative minds helping me out on this. I love to write and I would love to have a good, readable blog that people would actually enjoy. Thanks all!
1. Parenting: I am definitely what could/would be termed as an AP mom and I am also definitely crunchy. We cloth diaper, co-sleep, breastfeed, babywear, etc. We are also avid recyclers and take measures to make sure that our home is eco-friendly and toxin free.
2. Equality: I am a very liberal individual, however my main cause is equality. I am extremely passionate about gay rights. I really have no idea why I am so attached to the issue, although I do have several gay friends and family members, but I always have been and I feel really connected to it. Someone told me once that a straight female perspective on gay rights would be interesting, so I think that it might be a winning idea.
3. My journey with weight loss and depression: this was originally what this blog was supposed to be about. However, I sometimes worry that it would get boring and depressing. However, these two things are always a struggle for me and do consume a large part of my life.
4. Adventures in Beemanland: This would be largely about my family life and our day to day adventures without giving parenting advice or being an activist. I would probably take a humorous stance.
Ok folks, I need your help. Those are the ideas that I have but I would LOVE and dearly appreciate your creative minds helping me out on this. I love to write and I would love to have a good, readable blog that people would actually enjoy. Thanks all!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Hard Goodbyes.
I guess that for some reason it had not occurred to me that as a military wife I would be making friends that I would have to part with eventually. I also never realized that it would be so hard on me to say my goodbyes. I just found out this week that my first good friend here in Washington is going to be leaving this summer. I am extremely sad about it. I don't want her to go. I am going to miss her and I am going to miss her kids. It's going to be really hard on me to not see those kids grow up and become the amazing people that I know that they will be. It breaks my heart that I might grow apart from my friend.
I think that a big factor for me is the fact that back home I don't have a lot of friends that are the kind of moms I have met here. Almost none of my mom friends at home are stay at home moms and a lot of them do things very differently than I do. I truly feel that my mom friends here, in Washington, have helped me grow into a better, more hands on parent. This particular friend, who is leaving, is a great mom. She does everything for her kids and they love her to death. She is also a wonderful wife. I look up to her in a lot of ways and it is going to be sad for me to see her go and to lose that influence.
I had a really hard time moving here because I don't make friends easily. I don't require a lot of friends to be happy, I just prefer to have a few that I really like. I feel like I met a small group of awesome women, all of whom I love for different reasons. It is going to be very difficult for me to say goodbye to them now that I have become close to them. It is going to be really hard for me to say goodbye to their children, as well, each of whom I love. I don't take friendship lightly.
Why did it escape me that I would have to say a whole new set of goodbyes eventually? I wish that there was someone that I could write a letter to, asking that only people from Colorado be admitted to the Navy, so that I would never have to say goodbye. What a mess.
I think that a big factor for me is the fact that back home I don't have a lot of friends that are the kind of moms I have met here. Almost none of my mom friends at home are stay at home moms and a lot of them do things very differently than I do. I truly feel that my mom friends here, in Washington, have helped me grow into a better, more hands on parent. This particular friend, who is leaving, is a great mom. She does everything for her kids and they love her to death. She is also a wonderful wife. I look up to her in a lot of ways and it is going to be sad for me to see her go and to lose that influence.
I had a really hard time moving here because I don't make friends easily. I don't require a lot of friends to be happy, I just prefer to have a few that I really like. I feel like I met a small group of awesome women, all of whom I love for different reasons. It is going to be very difficult for me to say goodbye to them now that I have become close to them. It is going to be really hard for me to say goodbye to their children, as well, each of whom I love. I don't take friendship lightly.
Why did it escape me that I would have to say a whole new set of goodbyes eventually? I wish that there was someone that I could write a letter to, asking that only people from Colorado be admitted to the Navy, so that I would never have to say goodbye. What a mess.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Feeling a Little Bit Richer.
Last night I typed a very long, detailed (and, in my opinion, witty) blog entry about the weekend that Dave and I just shared. Sadly, right when I got to the very end my son took hold of the mouse and clicked the back button. It was tragic, I actually screamed out loud because it was such a disaster. I would really like to share the story here, but I simply do not feel that I have the patience right now to write as well as I had last night. This makes me sad because it was a weekend that was deserving of a well written entry. But life happens so I am just going to make do and give it the best entry that my time constraints and patience will allow. Ready, set, go...
A couple of months ago a friend of mine mentioned that she and her husband were taking the Navy up on one of the perks that it offers to those who serve. The perk she told me about was called a CREDO (Chaplain's Religious Enrichment Development Operation) Marriage Enrichment Retreat. Dave and I are not religious and we also do not have any major problems with our marriage, but my friend told me that it was for healthy marriages and that it was not extremely focused on faith. My next thought was, "Nice idea and concept but Dave is an E3, no way can we afford that." The next words out of her mouth shot that thought down. She said, "The Navy pays for your hotel stay and all of your meals except dinner on Friday night before the first session starts."
After that conversation, I was pretty much sold. I just needed to decide what to do about childcare, ask the spouse if he would be interested in doing such a thing, and get over my irrational fears of both group therapy and public speaking. It was pretty much a piece of cake. Our friends who had told us about the retreat agreed to swap childcare with us for the occasion, so we will be watching their daughter for a weekend in April. Dave said that as long as it was not overly bible based he would love to go, and that was taken care of. Now all the was left was to overcome the irrational fears. That part was easy as a child free, all expense paid, weekend alone as a couple easily outweighed the possible cons of what the retreat sessions would actually entail.
With all of the arrangements made, we both began to look forward to the weekend. We were slightly skeptical about the actual Marriage Enrichment Retreat but we were willing to put up with a few boring, awkward sessions in order to have a romantic getaway. The Friday arrived when we were supposed to leave and leave we did. The traffic getting there was a nightmare and it took us almost four hours (although we made great time coming back), we arrived, checked in, grabbed some Taco Time, and steeled ourselves for what we thought was going to be our first group therapy type session. At 6:45 on Friday evening, we walked into that conference room feeling nervous and intimidated.
Luckily for us expectations and reality rarely ever line up. This was one of the occasions where they do not line up and it happens in positive way. We were pleasantly surprised with the outline that the Chaplain gave us for the weekend, his demeanor, and the content of the first session of the weekend. We were also pleased that he did not drag it on for hours and that he seemed to really enjoy his job. We left Friday night feeling very optimistic about the rest of the weekend.
I am not going to go into a bunch of details. Outlining the whole weekend would take up a lot of space and probably be boring for anyone besides myself. However what I will say is that we left that Inn with several ideas of things that we can and will be doing to make our relationship stronger and healthier. We are going to work on growing closer in areas that we were just always very independent in. We are going to work on making each other feel appreciated and loved as fully as possible. We both left with an extremely optimistic feeling about a marriage that we were both already optimistic about.
This past weekend was one of the best investments I have ever made in my life or my marriage, and it was free. We learned so much and we spoke to each other about things and in ways that we had recently been neglecting. We actually managed to have serious, interesting conversations that were about other things than children. It was miraculous. Anyone who ever has a similar opportunity should act on it, you will not regret it. As of right now, today, I think that CREDO changed our marriage for the best. I am excited about today, tomorrow, and the years to come. And let me just say, it's a wonderful feeling.
A couple of months ago a friend of mine mentioned that she and her husband were taking the Navy up on one of the perks that it offers to those who serve. The perk she told me about was called a CREDO (Chaplain's Religious Enrichment Development Operation) Marriage Enrichment Retreat. Dave and I are not religious and we also do not have any major problems with our marriage, but my friend told me that it was for healthy marriages and that it was not extremely focused on faith. My next thought was, "Nice idea and concept but Dave is an E3, no way can we afford that." The next words out of her mouth shot that thought down. She said, "The Navy pays for your hotel stay and all of your meals except dinner on Friday night before the first session starts."
After that conversation, I was pretty much sold. I just needed to decide what to do about childcare, ask the spouse if he would be interested in doing such a thing, and get over my irrational fears of both group therapy and public speaking. It was pretty much a piece of cake. Our friends who had told us about the retreat agreed to swap childcare with us for the occasion, so we will be watching their daughter for a weekend in April. Dave said that as long as it was not overly bible based he would love to go, and that was taken care of. Now all the was left was to overcome the irrational fears. That part was easy as a child free, all expense paid, weekend alone as a couple easily outweighed the possible cons of what the retreat sessions would actually entail.
With all of the arrangements made, we both began to look forward to the weekend. We were slightly skeptical about the actual Marriage Enrichment Retreat but we were willing to put up with a few boring, awkward sessions in order to have a romantic getaway. The Friday arrived when we were supposed to leave and leave we did. The traffic getting there was a nightmare and it took us almost four hours (although we made great time coming back), we arrived, checked in, grabbed some Taco Time, and steeled ourselves for what we thought was going to be our first group therapy type session. At 6:45 on Friday evening, we walked into that conference room feeling nervous and intimidated.
Luckily for us expectations and reality rarely ever line up. This was one of the occasions where they do not line up and it happens in positive way. We were pleasantly surprised with the outline that the Chaplain gave us for the weekend, his demeanor, and the content of the first session of the weekend. We were also pleased that he did not drag it on for hours and that he seemed to really enjoy his job. We left Friday night feeling very optimistic about the rest of the weekend.
I am not going to go into a bunch of details. Outlining the whole weekend would take up a lot of space and probably be boring for anyone besides myself. However what I will say is that we left that Inn with several ideas of things that we can and will be doing to make our relationship stronger and healthier. We are going to work on growing closer in areas that we were just always very independent in. We are going to work on making each other feel appreciated and loved as fully as possible. We both left with an extremely optimistic feeling about a marriage that we were both already optimistic about.
This past weekend was one of the best investments I have ever made in my life or my marriage, and it was free. We learned so much and we spoke to each other about things and in ways that we had recently been neglecting. We actually managed to have serious, interesting conversations that were about other things than children. It was miraculous. Anyone who ever has a similar opportunity should act on it, you will not regret it. As of right now, today, I think that CREDO changed our marriage for the best. I am excited about today, tomorrow, and the years to come. And let me just say, it's a wonderful feeling.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Death, Revisited.
Dave and I have lived in Washington for almost two years. We got here at the very beginning of May 2008. When we were on the road to Washington, two people that I knew and loved back in Colorado died. Both died by their own hand. I was so sad. I knew I couldn't go back to pay respects and I couldn't be there for the rest of the people that I loved who I knew were suffering greatly. I had to send cards to their family and friends. These were people that I would have loved to hug much more than sending a written condolence.
When we arrived in Washington and began to settle in, I figured that it was just a tragic coincidence that two people I knew would pass away so close together and right after I left. I figured it was a bump in the road. I mourned them and then I moved on. I still think of them but I grieved and felt like I needed to move on with my life. But then, people just kept on dying. At this moment, while I sit here I can think of 8 people that I know from back home who have died in the two years since I left. I also know that my mommy brain is kicking in and that I am forgetting one or two people right now.
Yesterday I was sitting here at my trusty computer, browsing the internet. I was shocked to learn (via Facebook) that a young man that I went to elementary school with passed away this weekend. This was a person that I hadn't seen in several years. We didn't keep in touch through middle and high school. We didn't really move in the same circles. But, he was a nice guy. I did know him and he was my peer. When I saw his name popping up with R.I.P. before it, I was stunned. My mind immediately flashed to elementary school. I could picture his haircut and I could still picture that little guy with the huge, pretty eyes and the enormous constant smile. How could that little guy be dead? He is my age for God's sake.
It feels odd to me that I should be so affected by the passing of someone that was not close to me. I shed tears over this person and I hardly knew him anymore. I toyed with thoughts all night as to why I felt the way I felt. I have no clear answer as to why it bothers me and saddens me so much, but I do have some theories.
The first is that I am affected due to the sheer number of peers that I have already lost at 23 years old. Most people only lose family members and older ones at that. At 23, I have lost more than a handful of peers. I am not sitting here saying that I have lost 20 of my nearest and dearest friends, but these are still people my age. I knew them and I liked them and I remember them fondly.
My second theory is that I am slightly overly emotional and that I have a tendency to over empathize. I really can put myself in other peoples shoes and sometimes I have a tendency to over do it. I feel so sad when anyone dies or loses someone that I could read the obituaries in any paper and cry my eyes out. I just feel so sad for everyone who has to feel that pain. I feel sad for anyone for all of the time and memories that could have been. When someone dies unexpectedly, especially when they are so young, I just feel like I wish I could take the pain away for all of those who loved them. It doesn't even matter to me how I well I know them.
Regardless of the reasoning, my heart is just broken for this person's friends, girlfriend, and family members. I truly believe that it was a sad day in Colorado when that little guy's huge, friendly, shining smile went out. I hope that those who loved him get to see that smile again someday.
And as an end note, I really hope that 2010 brings less death into the orbit of my life. It gets harder each time and I am just so sick and tired of reading about the deaths of my peers.
When we arrived in Washington and began to settle in, I figured that it was just a tragic coincidence that two people I knew would pass away so close together and right after I left. I figured it was a bump in the road. I mourned them and then I moved on. I still think of them but I grieved and felt like I needed to move on with my life. But then, people just kept on dying. At this moment, while I sit here I can think of 8 people that I know from back home who have died in the two years since I left. I also know that my mommy brain is kicking in and that I am forgetting one or two people right now.
Yesterday I was sitting here at my trusty computer, browsing the internet. I was shocked to learn (via Facebook) that a young man that I went to elementary school with passed away this weekend. This was a person that I hadn't seen in several years. We didn't keep in touch through middle and high school. We didn't really move in the same circles. But, he was a nice guy. I did know him and he was my peer. When I saw his name popping up with R.I.P. before it, I was stunned. My mind immediately flashed to elementary school. I could picture his haircut and I could still picture that little guy with the huge, pretty eyes and the enormous constant smile. How could that little guy be dead? He is my age for God's sake.
It feels odd to me that I should be so affected by the passing of someone that was not close to me. I shed tears over this person and I hardly knew him anymore. I toyed with thoughts all night as to why I felt the way I felt. I have no clear answer as to why it bothers me and saddens me so much, but I do have some theories.
The first is that I am affected due to the sheer number of peers that I have already lost at 23 years old. Most people only lose family members and older ones at that. At 23, I have lost more than a handful of peers. I am not sitting here saying that I have lost 20 of my nearest and dearest friends, but these are still people my age. I knew them and I liked them and I remember them fondly.
My second theory is that I am slightly overly emotional and that I have a tendency to over empathize. I really can put myself in other peoples shoes and sometimes I have a tendency to over do it. I feel so sad when anyone dies or loses someone that I could read the obituaries in any paper and cry my eyes out. I just feel so sad for everyone who has to feel that pain. I feel sad for anyone for all of the time and memories that could have been. When someone dies unexpectedly, especially when they are so young, I just feel like I wish I could take the pain away for all of those who loved them. It doesn't even matter to me how I well I know them.
Regardless of the reasoning, my heart is just broken for this person's friends, girlfriend, and family members. I truly believe that it was a sad day in Colorado when that little guy's huge, friendly, shining smile went out. I hope that those who loved him get to see that smile again someday.
And as an end note, I really hope that 2010 brings less death into the orbit of my life. It gets harder each time and I am just so sick and tired of reading about the deaths of my peers.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
1993.
I will be 24 next month, so I am not old by any means. However, that didn't stop me from having my first, "I feel old experience," in class the other day. I guess that I will have to realize that as an almost 24 year old who is still in college, I am going to be surrounded by quite a few fresh out of high school faces. However, until the other day, it had never occurred to me that I am one of the older people in class.
Last Thursday, everyone was standing up and giving presentations. The young man who sits in front of me stood up and in the course of his speech he said something about how 1989 was two years before he was born. I was shocked and I quietly said, "Wow! He was born in 1991!" It was then that the unthinkable happened. The girl next to me smiled and said, "Well, I was born in 1993."
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?! 1993?! People born in 1993 are old enough to take college courses? (Granted she is a high school student doing Running Start) Seriously? I remember 1993. There are songs from 1993 that I still love and consider among my favorites. Ace of Base was still popular in 1993. The Gin Blossoms were topping the charts. 1993 was an awesome year. I turned 7 that year and I was rocking baby doll dresses, black Mary Janes, and I did my hair with the Bobsy (at least I think that's the name).
I also realized, after talking to this very nice young lady for most of the 3 hour period that I spend in class, that I am too old to be her friend. We have nothing in common. Even the way that she talks seems young and distant from where I am in life. She is absolutely, unmistakably from a different generation than myself. I'm not saying that I want to hang out with people who are 6 or 7 years older than me. But I had just never realized before that even though I am young, I am not really young anymore.
Youth is leaving me especially quickly since I am already married and have a family. I plan on becoming a teacher and I always thought that I would be the really cool, young teacher and now I realize that I am out of touch with young people. How did that happen? When did I grow up? I would really like to know so that I can warn my children to watch for that moment for themselves.
The whole day left me feeling old and confused. The only thing that I know for sure is that 1993 will forever be remembered as the year that caused me to realize that I am getting old. I don't know if I will ever feel the same about The Gin Blossoms again. Well, that's a lie. I still love them. I might as well embrace my impending old age.
Last Thursday, everyone was standing up and giving presentations. The young man who sits in front of me stood up and in the course of his speech he said something about how 1989 was two years before he was born. I was shocked and I quietly said, "Wow! He was born in 1991!" It was then that the unthinkable happened. The girl next to me smiled and said, "Well, I was born in 1993."
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?! 1993?! People born in 1993 are old enough to take college courses? (Granted she is a high school student doing Running Start) Seriously? I remember 1993. There are songs from 1993 that I still love and consider among my favorites. Ace of Base was still popular in 1993. The Gin Blossoms were topping the charts. 1993 was an awesome year. I turned 7 that year and I was rocking baby doll dresses, black Mary Janes, and I did my hair with the Bobsy (at least I think that's the name).
I also realized, after talking to this very nice young lady for most of the 3 hour period that I spend in class, that I am too old to be her friend. We have nothing in common. Even the way that she talks seems young and distant from where I am in life. She is absolutely, unmistakably from a different generation than myself. I'm not saying that I want to hang out with people who are 6 or 7 years older than me. But I had just never realized before that even though I am young, I am not really young anymore.
Youth is leaving me especially quickly since I am already married and have a family. I plan on becoming a teacher and I always thought that I would be the really cool, young teacher and now I realize that I am out of touch with young people. How did that happen? When did I grow up? I would really like to know so that I can warn my children to watch for that moment for themselves.
The whole day left me feeling old and confused. The only thing that I know for sure is that 1993 will forever be remembered as the year that caused me to realize that I am getting old. I don't know if I will ever feel the same about The Gin Blossoms again. Well, that's a lie. I still love them. I might as well embrace my impending old age.
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