Proud Princess

Recently my JK/SKs and I engaged in out first 'gender specification' conversation, and I've been so excited to share it with you! It came about completely organically, and it's pure coincidence that I'd spent time learning about how to address kids on such 'rainbow families' topics in a recent ECE conference. 

My class and I had crossed into our 'school age' classroom during our after school program, and we were lining up to play outside (our only direct door is in the SA room) when one of our SA student's babysitters came in to pick her up. He is gay, and in a way that is a little more obvious. The SA student has mentioned, 'yea, that's my gay babysitter', and we've never avoided the topic with the other kids, but it's also never been asked about. 

This afternoon he came in very dressed up, and one of my JKs said, 'you look like a girl!' An SK agreed, 'yea, you always look like a girl!' They weren't saying so in a mean way, they thought it was funny though. The moment caught me so off guard though, because we'd run into him at the door many times before, so blurted out something about 'sometimes boys can be even prettier then girls', joking around a little myself. I'm so thankful that he took the whole situation in stride, because I felt so guilty just being witness to my kids' behavior, even though I know it wasn't coming from a homophobic place. 

In the time it took to walk out to our designated play area outside, I had collected my thoughts and called everyone over to sit down. This is usually what we do when there has been some negative behavior that we want the whole class to learn from vs singling out one child. Before now we've had many 'tattle tailing' chats!

I started out by saying, 'so in the cubby room we started making some comments that maybe weren't the BEST choice,' and they knew exactly what I was talking about. I asked why they thought he looked like a girl. 'He had diamond earrings...he was dressed fancy...he had lip gloss!' Then I asked 'what could be have done to look more like a boy?' They suggested he not wear earrings or lip gloss, and dress in just plain jeans. So then we collectively realized that I was not wearing earrings, and I was not wearing lip gloss, and I had just plain jeans on, BUT that didn't make me look more like a boy!

They were a little shocked, like we'd stumbled across some grand revelation. Especially when I related his lip gloss, to all of our nail painting! They already knew that boys were allowed to get their nails painted with the girls, whenever Miss Jorja has time, so being able to show a parallel between nail polish and earrings etc, was great. 

We ended the conversation with a little brainstorming on what we could say the next time we see this babysitter. I think he would be more then flattered to hear, 'you look very shiny today!' 

PANTIES!!! (In A Bunch)

http://theblacksphere.net/2013/03/victorias-secret-is-coming-for-your-middle-schooler/

I totally heart VS a it's sister companies, but this blows my mind a tad. 

I bought my first thong innnn grade 10 I believe, with my 16th bday money (I had an early bday). It was bright blue and basically bathing suit material, and from Bootlegger. It was hideous and so ill-fitted/designed. But I felt super special. 

When I first started reading this article (linked at the top) I thought, 'smart idea Victoria!' The Bright Young Things title is actually pretty great, it sounds happy and positive! And because I think girls of all ages should love and celebrate their bodies, I think super fun undies for younger girls is a perfectly ok idea. 

Before finding this article, I had just spent a few minutes scrolling through pictures/testimonials on a popular weight loss/healthy living brand's Facebook page. Women posted their before and after pictures of their bodies, all of which were impressive and inspiring. The most noticeable transformations though? What they were wearing! 95% of the women took their pictures in their undies (brave women!), and the before pictures were far more often then not dressed in sports bras and granny panties (for lack of a better word). Then the after photos were decked out in lacy bikini briefs and push-up bras! And I loved it! Females getting fit so obviously felt happier about themselves and were excited to show it off, and excited to do other things (like wear sexy undies) to further boost their confidence!

That's my favorite thing about fun undies, they make you feel fun! Even when no one else may ever see them! When I open my undies drawer in the way-too-early-cranky mornings, all the colors and the polka dots and the leopard prints make me smile! And my butt smiles all day in them! I know I'm not going to work to walk in a lingerie fashion show, but that doesn't mean I don't strut a teeny prouder on the days that I know I have something fierce under my catholic school-appropriate clothes. 

I actually think undies can be magical in that way, an figured that if I were ever to become Hollywood's next hottest thing, I'd love to partner with an undies company to start a line called Secret Sparkle..SS for short of course. It would be the snazziest patterns, with little gems and laces, but every pair would be comfy and productive enough to be worn on an every day basis. And women everywhere would walk into their next board room meeting, or parent-teacher conference with an extra bounce in their step, because only they would know alllllll that's goin on down there. 

Really though, who's taken the time to shave their legs in the middle of winter, even though no one but your kaki pants would be feeling them? And can you deny feeling deviously special, knowing that you were keeping a smooth secret (sparkle) under there? Well undies are just like that!

However. 

*Ahem. 

I am a grown ass woman, so I am allowed to think and talk all I want about sexy, sparkly panties. I am allowed to wear sexy, sparkly panties. 11 and 12, and 13 year olds? 

Bright, happy, fun colors and patterns will, and should be wanted by young girls. That much makes sense. As soon as potty-training begins, my daughters going to have the hippest undies to celebrate with! 

And even marketing 'Bikini' style undies to young girls is fine by me, because I know it's something they'd be drawn to. But we (as adults, and marketers, as consumers, as a society) should not even give girls the chance to ever be drawn to under garments with ANY words on them, let alone 'Feelin Lucky?'....?!!! I don't care if Victorias Secret writes 'DORA THE EXPLORER' on the butts...it is unnecessary because NO ONE SHOULD BE READING THE BUTTS OF CHILDREN! 

Uhmm, duh. 

The world is full of slutty things, and 'our' children are exposed to it every day, so they are bound to be drawn to (with their over-paid allowances) what is 'cool'. And I'm sure slutty TV shows make it perfectly clear that undies with words on the butts are very cool. But by allowing such things on the market, we are basically telling these too-young females, 'Its ok to be a slut, if everyone else wants to be a slut. Yes, please start a tab on how many boys in your middle school classes you can get to stare at your ass long enough to read it!' 

I have no solution for this problem, of course. Lol. I don't know, raise you children right, and hopefully they won't want words on their asses until they are of a legal age? I don't have time to write a letter a day to VS telling them they they are about to destroy the future of our gender. Really, I just wanted to vent. This started out as just wanting to share and comment on this article, on Facebook, but we all know how long-winded this Princess really is. 

The Prince of Princes

For the last few months there has been a lady from China living with us, at dad's house.  She's a professor and was brought here to do research at the university.  She is leaving at the end of this month, and as a thank you for our hospitality, she took us to a restaurant she found that serves traditional Chinese style food.

We all sat around a table with a big pot of soup in the middle, and when the soup boils, you add in you pick of raw meats and veggies, and noodles etc.  With options like 'black fungus', calf stomach, and quail eggs, it's safe for you to assume that MY plate did not end up being worth the all-you-can-eat price tag.  Because my Endometriosis is more under control, my stomach feels better in general, and my current weight (compared to what I weighed 18 months ago) is a good indicator of a decent appetite, but it is still not at all an adventurous stomach!  I stuck to boiling corn and broccoli, and fake crab.

Nonetheless my insides were pissed off.  I think just looking at the plates of raw chicken, and shrimps with eyes still in their heads made my guts anxious.  So once we were finally on our way home (the Chinese appreciate taking their time to digest at the table, and drink tea very slowly, apparently), I text my boyfriend and told him to please make sure our bathroom would be unoccupied, so it could be all mine or a while.

This is what I came home to...

#tummytroubles #hegetsit #candlelitpoo 

 

I'm (Almost) Completely Joking, By The Way

I was planning on finishing and posting this a few nights ago, but then I got distracted by Google. And painting my nails. And season two of Brothers & Sisters...

I saw Dark Skies tonight, and was completely impressed. Not only are Kerri Russell and her teeny boobs still adorable and great to watch, but the Weinstein brothers managed to (help) create an alien movie that was actually scary, and realistic-seeming. More often then not, an ET flick is just ruined the moment the audience actually sees the space creature. I remember being enthralled by Signs, and Mel Gibson, years ago. It was suspenseful and interesting, and so eerie, and then all of a sudden there's this giant blue alien on the TV! I probably said 'wtf' out loud. 

Dark Skies (while I still don't fully understand the title because it was never darker then usual), never lost my attention. The 'possessed' creepy kids seemed realistic, the 'facts' that were discovered were completely 'holy crap!'-worthy, and the physical presence of these extra terrestrials (actually called 'Greys'..because all things Greys are great), was perfect. They were dark and shadowy, they did have big light bulb heads...more movies should trust that the human mind will easily create all the scariness that is required! Plus the ending wasn't horrible!

The movie got me thinking though...

I've always had a thing for aliens. And I'm SO glad that aliens are apparently the new vampires, as far as cinema goes this year. Is it strange to not feel that I have enough personal proof to believe in God, but I have a kind of hopeless romantic belief in ALIENS regardless? 

I have this vivid recollection of a dream (or WAS it a dream?!) where I was walking through a giant open field, it was dusky out, up to what appeared to be a spaceship. Like a saucer. And there were lights flashing all around the outside. And when I touched the ship with both my hands, I could get the lights to pause, but if I touched it with just one hand, the lights would continue flashing. Or was it the other way around? The lights were glowing constantly, but when I used both hands to touch the ship they started flashing, and if I only touched it with one hand, nothing would change. Not important! The vivid bit is a moment where I was testing out the lights, and put only one hand on the ship, but a second later the lights started flashing...but they shouldn't be flashing...because I only had one hand on it...so I slowly turned to my right...and next to my hand...was a long, thin, grey hand...and attached to that hand was a tall, thin, grey creature!

The alien smarty pants in the movie claimed that dreams about aliens, are often our brains way of reminding us of things that ACTUALLY happened. Dum dum dum...


Also! According to Wikipedia, typical claims from 'Experiencers' (abductees) involve being subjected to a forced medical examination that emphasizes their reproductive system. Hello! 

I have come across forums full of people claiming to have been abducted, as well as people who have bared witness to someone being abducted. In both cases, the abductee is described as losing the ability to control muscular movement, dizziness/faintness, blurred vision, pounding heart beat, slurred speech, sometimes physical illness (vomiting etc), and a general sense of confusion and doom. 

So. Basically. In conclusion, it is entirely possible that Endometriosis is just a made up name created in haste for a reproductive condition that has an unknown origin or cure, because scientists refuse to accept that it comes from outer space, and panic attacks are not part of an elaborate mental disorder, but instead an overlook-able sign that we have actually been abducted by aliens in the past.

Ta da! Mystery solved!

Now I just need to accept that if I never get better, it's at least in the name of extra terrestrial science. 

Mental Illness Awareness Week

Now is the time, annually, that we take a slightly deeper interest in mental health. A girlfriend's well-worded blog post on the subject (http://liveitactive.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/lets-talk-about-mental-illness/) reminded me that I had to type too. 

Every year since I began suffering with a mental illness (a good 11 years now), I do feel and believe that the situation as a whole has gotten better. I do feel and believe that the world as a whole has grown more excepting, at least more tolerant of mental illness, and more aware of the importance of mental health. But mental illness is a tough thing to label, describe, and be empathetic about, so there is still so much progress that can be made. So much potential. 

Like my friend, I believe the best thing we can do for this disease, is let the world know about it. We have hundreds of drugs, and specialists, and treatment options, but not awareness. Like so many perfectly normal things in this world, mental illness still comes off as being taboo, an embarrassing handicap. This mindset leads us to denial, and by the time we start rounding 30 years old..we should all have had some experience with where denial really gets us!

Besides sever eating disorder cases, a mental illness is an invisible illness, which makes it understandably harder for outsiders to understand, or recognize. When high school friends are shocked to learn that I was diagnosed with depression in my early teens, or when coworkers are shocked to discover that I still fight daily with my anxiety, it is the greatest testament to my likely Oscar-worthy acting skills! (Thank you very much!). No one knows (knew) what I was dealing with because I'm good at hiding it (often the hiding is subconscious, and just happens naturally). When I show up to work with bags under my eyes, it's assumed I was working late, or partying late...not up all night with a gut-wrenching panic attack. Panic attacks aren't nearly as every-day normal as getting shitfaced and dancing until 3am on a Wednesday...so why would anyone assume correctly? We notice a friend is extra moody today, and we assume she must have had a fight with her on again-off again boyfriend, again, not that she's actually suffering from clinical depression and hasn't quite found a medication that works well enough for her. 

I've had the luxury of being surrounded by good, accepting people, and being raised to be confident, so it's easier for me to be an open book, where I am in my life now. Panic attacks happen, I see my pharmacist once a month, I cry like a fucking baby sometimes, and Ativan is a gift from god. Those are simple facts to me, but not to everyone. And I understand that side of things as well. 

When I first started dealing with my anxiety (because clinical depression wasn't enough for one little woman to deal with..not to mention the overwhelming physical illness..), I was never in denial, but I was embarrassed. I was 25 and while friends were entering careers and getting married and buying homes and making babies, I was living at home, forced to be unemployed, and feeling utterly pathetic. I got very good, for a while, at avoiding that stupid 'what have you been up to?' conversation when running into an old friend randomly. Then I realized just how different my life would be, had I felt comfortable enough to tell my friends and family about my depression when I was in high school. I realized how much it would have helped, if I could have been my real, honest self, and still felt normal and cool. That's when this blog started! I decided it was perfectly ok for me to type, and discuss, and joke about my personal mental illness(es), all the while hoping that it may help others feel perfectly ok to do so too. Because it should be. 

One day, depression (and anxiety, bipolar, Aspergers, agoraphobia, manic depression, OCD, etc.) will be seen the way cancer is seen. Scary, sometimes ugly, but REAL and important. Worthy of the worlds attention, and fundraising, and empathy. Until then, I appreciate the baby steps that society is taking. I appreciate professionals (like my friend) taking the time to speak out. I appreciate celebrities (Brooke Shields, Ellen's BABE of a girlfriend, Zach Braff, Cameron Diaz, Howie Mandel, etc) who are unafraid of being honest with their fans, despite their haters. I appreciate brands like Bell, who use their power to raise funds and awareness for the cause. And I appreciate those who continue to love and adore me, despite my nuts-ness ;)

Nostalgia Will Be The Death Of Me

After a weekend full of beautiful Birthday partying, I went back to mom's to walk our dog while she's away. The walk was cold, but smelt the way winter should smell. I fed little Clay, snuggled him, and then made the mistake of peeking into one of the albums on the living room bookshelf. And that's where I spent the next 40 minutes. 

I've always been a cheesy, sentimental, nostalgic sucker, and Christmas through my Birthday seems to be the worst. Christmas childhood memories are my very favorite, and then it's all the emotion that comes with ringing in a new year, and then my Birthday comes, another marker of a new (personal) year, realizing the last one is actually over (already?!), and it's all a little overwhelming. Plus it's winter, so naturally everything is a little sadder!

I have never been one to shy away from my Birthday. I firmly believe we all deserve a day to be celebrated, and I admittedly enjoy the 24 hours of Facebook attention. I have never worried about getting older, the future hasn't scared me since I was in high school. I am extremely happy, thankful where I am in my life, how far I've come, and who's come with me. But once I start flipping through baby pictures (and can't bring myself to stop flipping), a nervousness does sink in. Nervous to get further away from these perfect little moments. 

My parents made utterly beautiful children. 

I don't say that in a strictly self-absorbed way. They had definitely blessed us with extremely decent genes, but in every picture, on every page, throughout all those binders, are the happiest little faces. Just happy and so in love. We were blessed with a very healthy, happy childhood. And that makes me cry for some reason!

It might have something to do with the fact that it all ended in divorce. And also the hormones. (It's always going to be the hormones, isn't it?). We were just so god damn cute. And if I get this emotional over baby pictures, I can't imagine what it does to parents. I mean, that first blondey crooked-smile baby is turning 27!? 

I get excited, knowing all that is bound to happen in this new 'I am 27' year. Twenty-seven is a sexy sounding number. I have a feeling that it's going to be, actually, wonderful. 

But life isn't perfect. Not as perfect as it felt, I'm sure, when I was turning 2 and about to get a brand new brother. Or when I was turning 5, and my favorite little sister was finally at my Birthday party. They were precious moments, because we were precious, captured in invaluable snap shots. And when I look at them now, I can't help but hate how far away they seem. How far away that 'Who cares! We're young and we're perfect' feeling is. Children are definitely oblivious to the 'real world' (if they're lucky), but that's part of what makes us beautiful. 

We are still a respectably handsome family, don't get me wrong! And we are all growing, succeeding, relatively happy, and lucky in love, decent human beings. So I have no fear of how much time we have left, or what we're going to do with it...but of how much time has passed. You don't realize it, at least I don't, at least not in an obvious way, the time passing. You don't realize the time passing and the responsibilities mounting, the friends coming and going, the heart breaking and loving, because it just happens. But then you open the pages that your Nana started filling with these gorgeous, happy, care-free faces 28 years ago, and suddenly it's so easy to spend 40 minutes sitting on the floor covering your sweater sleeves in tears. And snot! 

My 1st Birthday party - Mom wore a bow tie, I wore the cake

An angel putting up the angel ;)

My mom was a model you know

He's always loved having a big sister!

A couple of suckers (and Nana)

My very favorite sister

Told'ja we were good looking...

Where Blogs End and Poems Start

Nights like this and feelings like this, the feelings in my head and in my heart, it reminds me of the sky. Not just any sky, the sky above the curb I sat on across from the mall, the night I got arrested. 

I've never actually told my parents I've been arrested. I was 18 so the police didn't need to contact them, I went to court on my own, paid the fine myself, got myself to community service. Turns out though, lol, the 5 Finger Discount is actually a gene inherited. 

I sat on that curb, in the dark and breezy and wet night, staring into the sky. I was feeling so sad, and angry in general, and trying desperately to see the stars I saw from my Dominican rooftop. 

Dominican is a...a THING, or a moment in my life that I will carry with me to the grave. A necessary thing, a perfect moment, where after years of depression I felt more free and more alive and more possible then I ever had in my life. I can't for sure say that anything or any moment has surpassed Dominican. But every now and then I find myself looking for that sky again, feeling under that sky again.  That sky which...

That sky
it's almost a comforting place
I want to run to
every now and again,
dark and wet and alone
and seeming so far from 
the free and the possible. 
A comfortable place
for the sad and generally angry
desperately looking
for the stars that had to have been real. 
But I know I can't stay here
because I know those stars exist
just a comfortable place 
to visit and remember
that no matter how far we've come 
it's all the same sky.