Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The side effect of pregnancy is a baby
I am pretty sure that I felt the baby move for the first time today. I would be referring to the one inutero and not the one currently suffering a rice cake coma. The subtle somersaults of my soon-to-be third child put things into perspective for me. These past 16 weeks, I have been preoccupied with nausea, gagging, gas, constipation and bloating (don't get all offended – if you have intestines, you have at some point in your life experienced such niceties.) I have had sleepless nights filled with multiple trips to the bathroom, headaches, overwhelming exhaustion, aches and pains, water retention and expanding body parts. But, when I feel that little flutter in my stomach I realize that the only side effect in pregnancy that matters is the baby. And, immediately I think – Cheese and Rice! I am going to have three kids! Am I gonna have to get a mini-van?
Don't get me wrong. I realize the tremendous miracle that grows inside of me and how superior women are to men because of this simple fact, but there is a bone I need to pick with my body about this whole baby making thing - the phenom of body memory. This is my third child and because of body memory, my belly button has already “popped.” I am four months pregnant. I don't need to be reminded by my body that this is my third kid. I have two kids and hundreds of pictures of me gray and swollen after hours of hard labor. Why can't my body remember the good 'ole days of my honeymoon with my tight little toosh, zero body fat and track star metabolism? In my twenties, I would get compliments to my navel from complete strangers. Keep in mind that was back in the day when it was cool for only skinny girls to wear midriff tops. (And, yes I just went there). Now my navel looks like a a deflated tail from a balloon animal. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration, but ladies – holla if you hear me! Add to that diastasis of my stomach muscles and my once natural six-pack has become an alienesque cone. My (male, of course) doctor actually told me to remind him to sew them back up should I have a C-section. Okay, Doc. That is the obvious thought of a woman who is having their insides set on a steel table on D-day. I will get right on that.
Yes, I jest. But, in actuality, this has been my best pregnancy thus far as pertaining to rapid body change. I gained 70 pounds with Isabella, wore men's velcro sandals and was affectionately dubbed Krusty the Klown by my brother-in-law. I once polished off a box of Twinkies in under 5 minutes. I was a glutton and a tank. With Madison, I gained 40 pounds and my pelvis separated, which was as painful as it sounds. I was in labor for 24 hours proving to the most excruciatingly painful experience of my life, rendering me crippled and in a wheel chair for quite some time. With baby number three, so far I have gained 4 pounds and am losing hair. But, I can deal with that. And, now that the baby is moving, who cares if I have to get a van? With the help of God, I am making my third child and no matter what happens to me, he or she will be just perfect.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Surf's up, dude...
I am generally a sarcastic person. In fact, there is very little that comes out of my mouth not tinted with the sweet undertones of sarcasm. Except for this weekend, of course. Sarcasm was no where to be found and in its place was a huge dose of humility. We just got back from Daytona/Ponce Inlet where Isabella was introduced to a full day of surfing through Surfers for Autism. I am here to tell you that I witnessed one of the coolest things I have ever seen...not just with Isabella on the surfboard, but watching all the volunteers, other kids, parents, and vendors put together an amazing event.
I met some of the nicest people all at the beach for one purpose: to help autistic kids surf. Isabella was somewhat of a natural attempting to stand up on her first ride out. She fell almost immediately after standing, but she tried two more times before she just gave up and rode on her tummy - over, and over, and over again. She did stand later, although I did not see it. She swallowed quite a bit of water and volunteered to take a break. Isabella would live in the water if she could. She loves the ocean - and pools, and showers, and sprinklers, and rain. Anything to do with water has a therapeutic effect with her, as it does with almost all kids with autism. The reason for this remains to be seen but, who cares? She is so happy and that is all that matters.
The surf was pretty intense; the waves were well above my head and the rip current was a tad strong for my liking. But, these guys (and girls) were amazing with helping her - riding on the back of the board to keep it weighted and guiding her in all the way to the beach. It was really cool. She went surfing with the president of Christian Surfers, the owner of Inlet Charley's Surf Shop and an instructor from Pure Life Surfing school. Not to mention the many surfers who just gave up a good day of awesome waves to see some good kids have the best day of their lives. They could have been doing anything, yet they chose to help kids - happily. It was really a great feeling to be part of such compassion.
Surfing does not make autism go away. There were hundreds of kids there - some typical and most autistic. The typical kids were playing with each other, while the autistic kids played near each other, yet by themselves. None of them interacted. It wasn't something that really stood out for me because she was having such a good time talking with other parents or adult volunteers. They had a puppet show where a group of about 20-30 kids sat in the sand to watch. None of them were watching - all of them were pouring sand on their bodies, including Isabella. Madison was watching it and dancing to the song, but the other kids were lost in the sensory effects of beach sand. I asked Isabella today why she was doing that. I thought maybe she was cooling herself off. I was wrong. She said "it just felt really neat and it was really soft." Duh. I should have know. She loves soft stuff.
Madison, contrary to Isabella, had no interest in the water unless it was from the tide line. She just wanted to roll in the sand where it remained on her face, in her ears, in her hair for the majority of the day. It was quite comical and yes, she did eat some.
Isabella had the time of her life. Grins from ear to ear most of the day and only a couple of instances of fleeting problematic behavior. We had a great time watching her...hot, pregnant...it didn't matter. I would do it again in a heart beat. In fact, I will be doing it again next month in St. Augustine. Mahalo.
I met some of the nicest people all at the beach for one purpose: to help autistic kids surf. Isabella was somewhat of a natural attempting to stand up on her first ride out. She fell almost immediately after standing, but she tried two more times before she just gave up and rode on her tummy - over, and over, and over again. She did stand later, although I did not see it. She swallowed quite a bit of water and volunteered to take a break. Isabella would live in the water if she could. She loves the ocean - and pools, and showers, and sprinklers, and rain. Anything to do with water has a therapeutic effect with her, as it does with almost all kids with autism. The reason for this remains to be seen but, who cares? She is so happy and that is all that matters.
The surf was pretty intense; the waves were well above my head and the rip current was a tad strong for my liking. But, these guys (and girls) were amazing with helping her - riding on the back of the board to keep it weighted and guiding her in all the way to the beach. It was really cool. She went surfing with the president of Christian Surfers, the owner of Inlet Charley's Surf Shop and an instructor from Pure Life Surfing school. Not to mention the many surfers who just gave up a good day of awesome waves to see some good kids have the best day of their lives. They could have been doing anything, yet they chose to help kids - happily. It was really a great feeling to be part of such compassion.
Surfing does not make autism go away. There were hundreds of kids there - some typical and most autistic. The typical kids were playing with each other, while the autistic kids played near each other, yet by themselves. None of them interacted. It wasn't something that really stood out for me because she was having such a good time talking with other parents or adult volunteers. They had a puppet show where a group of about 20-30 kids sat in the sand to watch. None of them were watching - all of them were pouring sand on their bodies, including Isabella. Madison was watching it and dancing to the song, but the other kids were lost in the sensory effects of beach sand. I asked Isabella today why she was doing that. I thought maybe she was cooling herself off. I was wrong. She said "it just felt really neat and it was really soft." Duh. I should have know. She loves soft stuff.
Madison, contrary to Isabella, had no interest in the water unless it was from the tide line. She just wanted to roll in the sand where it remained on her face, in her ears, in her hair for the majority of the day. It was quite comical and yes, she did eat some.
Isabella had the time of her life. Grins from ear to ear most of the day and only a couple of instances of fleeting problematic behavior. We had a great time watching her...hot, pregnant...it didn't matter. I would do it again in a heart beat. In fact, I will be doing it again next month in St. Augustine. Mahalo.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Gluten for Punishment?
Waiting for my children's visit to their pediatrician, I flipped through the magazines that spanned the shelves of their lobby. I was greatly shocked to read the extremely short summation of a recent study of the effectiveness of a gluten- and casein-free diet in children with autism, published in a popular renowned parenting magazine. The magazine claims the consumption of such a restricted diet does not improve behavior patterns and suggests that the challenge and costliness is hardly worth the effort. This blatant misrepresentation about the study may lead parents to believe that nutrition has no bearing on a child's health, behavior or development and could drive parents to treat their children with unnecessary pharmaceuticals that have a number of harsh side effects.
This short study of such a small sample (22 children in four weeks, not revealed in the magazine article) should hardly bear such a definitive conclusion, especially when the hundreds of thousands of parents who have treated their children with the GFCF diet and have success are taken into consideration. Many parents report immediate improvement in sleep patterns, sociability and reduced stimming and problematic behaviors. Other parents report that the improvement is seen much slower and notice a general improvement in the child's well-being and overall health. As a parent of a child on the spectrum who implements a GFCF diet as part of therapy, as well as following it myself, I speak from experience when I say that this change of lifestyle has proven to be the must effective treatment thus far. These foods have cleared the fog from my child's brain and allowed other treatments to be more successful, like speech and behavioral therapies. Eliminating gluten and dairy from one's diet has no adverse reaction on health or development and contrary to what this study portrays, has the possibility to have profound positive health benefits. Similarly, while medication may have benefit in the treatment of autism in some children, synthetic medications and pharmaceuticals are riddled with many known side-effects that can potentially cause lifelong health damage and permanently affect a child's development.
Children on the spectrum are as individual as the fingerprints on their hands and likewise their respective treatments will be highly varied. The decision to treat a child with autism should rely on the parent with guidance from a well educated physician – knowledgeable in medicine as well as balanced and healthy nutrition. When misrepresented studies like these are carelessly placed beside bounce-house advertisements and jello recipes in parenting magazines, a huge disservice is being done to the education of proper nutrition as well as the awareness of effective treatments for autism spectrum disorder.
This short study of such a small sample (22 children in four weeks, not revealed in the magazine article) should hardly bear such a definitive conclusion, especially when the hundreds of thousands of parents who have treated their children with the GFCF diet and have success are taken into consideration. Many parents report immediate improvement in sleep patterns, sociability and reduced stimming and problematic behaviors. Other parents report that the improvement is seen much slower and notice a general improvement in the child's well-being and overall health. As a parent of a child on the spectrum who implements a GFCF diet as part of therapy, as well as following it myself, I speak from experience when I say that this change of lifestyle has proven to be the must effective treatment thus far. These foods have cleared the fog from my child's brain and allowed other treatments to be more successful, like speech and behavioral therapies. Eliminating gluten and dairy from one's diet has no adverse reaction on health or development and contrary to what this study portrays, has the possibility to have profound positive health benefits. Similarly, while medication may have benefit in the treatment of autism in some children, synthetic medications and pharmaceuticals are riddled with many known side-effects that can potentially cause lifelong health damage and permanently affect a child's development.
Children on the spectrum are as individual as the fingerprints on their hands and likewise their respective treatments will be highly varied. The decision to treat a child with autism should rely on the parent with guidance from a well educated physician – knowledgeable in medicine as well as balanced and healthy nutrition. When misrepresented studies like these are carelessly placed beside bounce-house advertisements and jello recipes in parenting magazines, a huge disservice is being done to the education of proper nutrition as well as the awareness of effective treatments for autism spectrum disorder.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Back to School
Isabella heads back to school next Monday and it won't be in our living room as it has been in the last year. She will be attending a charter school for children with an autism diagnosis and I am both extremely excited and extremely stressed out and anxious. While I always hoped she would go to the best school, I never imagined in a million years it would be the best school for autism. I know I should revel more in the fact that she is so excited; she knows no difference between typical or atypical, but I am still a little sad. I feel like I am partly grieving for the typical first grade year that her cousins and friends will have or already had. We will worry not about school plays or team sports, but focus instead on speech and occupational therapy and individualized behavior plans.
So, why then are we doing it? Why have we decided to send her to an atypical school where we wait for the unknown instead of keeping her at home where she was doing relatively well? The answer is quite complex, really. Homeschooling is a challenge even for a typically developing child, but when you have a daughter who has very specialized learning needs and I am not a trained teacher, it poses obstacles that are hard to overcome. Not to mention therapy is extremely expensive and when I quit my job to care for Isabella (and Madison) I left behind 65K a year, paid insurance,401k and profit sharing. This school environment provides individual therapy 5 days a week. That type of treatment in private atmosphere would cost us more than 500 dollars a week, and that is being moderate.
The other reason is to have her exposed to other children; to learn how to appropriately behave and socialize with children her own age while in a learning or structured environment, as well as at play. It is easy to put a child with autism on a playground where she can focus on a swing and slide over and over again. Yes, she is with children, and yes, they are playing. But, if you watch closely you will notice there is no interaction. You could remove all the people on the playground and it would not impact the type or direction of play in which she is engaged. She WANTS friends, don't get me wrong, she just doesn't quite know how to do it; she is socially awkward, albeit much better than a year ago. The two of us recently took the train to Jacksonville. Trains are a love of Isabella's and this was a gift from Grandma and Grandpa. While on the train we talked about how exciting it was and I was taking pictures so that she could show all of her friends. She quickly replied, "What friends?" How gut wrenching and painfully eye-opening. Hopefully, she will soon develop new friends with this school. I am excited for her that she will develop some relationships outside of our home.
The last reason will seem selfish to some and quite frankly it is to some degree. But, the harsh reality is that I need a break from her. And, she needs a break from me. I would be lying if I said this isn't the hardest job in the world - to be patient and understanding of a six-year old girl who should be capable, who I want desperately to be capable, but isn't. Being high-functioning means that her capability to learn and intelligence are normal. It doesn't mean that she is any less challenged than a low-functioning child. There is a huge misperception there. She is mild on the spectrum and she is only this way because of God's blessing, plus all the extremely hard work that our entire family commits to on a daily basis, including her. And, it is hard. Her expressive and receptive language delays complicate communication. Social cues are missed with her and sensory integration compounds her problematic behavior. She is constantly being redirected and appropriated for her actions and largely disallowed to "misbehave" because she must learn "appropriate" behavior which most of us inherently know. Rare are the instances where she can "just be a kid," because to her it would involve stimming or stacking and those behaviors are largely considered to be "weird" by other people. And, I am always correcting her, often shouting, saying the same things over and over again and they are never processed. It is difficult for her to initiate play by herself and she often needs direction. She doesn't engage in imaginary play and she obsesses on things that I try to discourage. It is so tiring, so emotionally and physically draining. I love my daughter more than life itself, but there are times when I just need to be away from her. And, I know that she needs a break from me.
Nick just called to tell me he was on his way home - the last meeting for parent before school starts. He met her teacher (we will meet her on Friday) and he sounds excited, so that helps wash away some of my insecurities. She will do great, I know it. I think I underestimate her a little. But, I am her mommy and her protector and it is my sole responsibility to make sure she succeeds and I often feel like I am doing everything wrong. Will she hate me for making her go to an "autism school." Will this be the best thing that has ever happened to her? Only time will tell, and by this time next week we will be even closer to answering that question.
So, why then are we doing it? Why have we decided to send her to an atypical school where we wait for the unknown instead of keeping her at home where she was doing relatively well? The answer is quite complex, really. Homeschooling is a challenge even for a typically developing child, but when you have a daughter who has very specialized learning needs and I am not a trained teacher, it poses obstacles that are hard to overcome. Not to mention therapy is extremely expensive and when I quit my job to care for Isabella (and Madison) I left behind 65K a year, paid insurance,401k and profit sharing. This school environment provides individual therapy 5 days a week. That type of treatment in private atmosphere would cost us more than 500 dollars a week, and that is being moderate.
The other reason is to have her exposed to other children; to learn how to appropriately behave and socialize with children her own age while in a learning or structured environment, as well as at play. It is easy to put a child with autism on a playground where she can focus on a swing and slide over and over again. Yes, she is with children, and yes, they are playing. But, if you watch closely you will notice there is no interaction. You could remove all the people on the playground and it would not impact the type or direction of play in which she is engaged. She WANTS friends, don't get me wrong, she just doesn't quite know how to do it; she is socially awkward, albeit much better than a year ago. The two of us recently took the train to Jacksonville. Trains are a love of Isabella's and this was a gift from Grandma and Grandpa. While on the train we talked about how exciting it was and I was taking pictures so that she could show all of her friends. She quickly replied, "What friends?" How gut wrenching and painfully eye-opening. Hopefully, she will soon develop new friends with this school. I am excited for her that she will develop some relationships outside of our home.
The last reason will seem selfish to some and quite frankly it is to some degree. But, the harsh reality is that I need a break from her. And, she needs a break from me. I would be lying if I said this isn't the hardest job in the world - to be patient and understanding of a six-year old girl who should be capable, who I want desperately to be capable, but isn't. Being high-functioning means that her capability to learn and intelligence are normal. It doesn't mean that she is any less challenged than a low-functioning child. There is a huge misperception there. She is mild on the spectrum and she is only this way because of God's blessing, plus all the extremely hard work that our entire family commits to on a daily basis, including her. And, it is hard. Her expressive and receptive language delays complicate communication. Social cues are missed with her and sensory integration compounds her problematic behavior. She is constantly being redirected and appropriated for her actions and largely disallowed to "misbehave" because she must learn "appropriate" behavior which most of us inherently know. Rare are the instances where she can "just be a kid," because to her it would involve stimming or stacking and those behaviors are largely considered to be "weird" by other people. And, I am always correcting her, often shouting, saying the same things over and over again and they are never processed. It is difficult for her to initiate play by herself and she often needs direction. She doesn't engage in imaginary play and she obsesses on things that I try to discourage. It is so tiring, so emotionally and physically draining. I love my daughter more than life itself, but there are times when I just need to be away from her. And, I know that she needs a break from me.
Nick just called to tell me he was on his way home - the last meeting for parent before school starts. He met her teacher (we will meet her on Friday) and he sounds excited, so that helps wash away some of my insecurities. She will do great, I know it. I think I underestimate her a little. But, I am her mommy and her protector and it is my sole responsibility to make sure she succeeds and I often feel like I am doing everything wrong. Will she hate me for making her go to an "autism school." Will this be the best thing that has ever happened to her? Only time will tell, and by this time next week we will be even closer to answering that question.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Walk Now for Autism Speaks Altamonte Springs
As some of you are already aware, I am a team captain and participant of the 2010 Walk Now for Autism Speaks event in Altamonte on November 13. I am walking for my daughter, Isabella. Ironically, this date will mark the one year anniversary of her autism diagnosis. I want to thank those of you who have donated and/or joined my team to walk and raise money. I am ramping up my campaign as the event draws near and if you are not in a position to donate or walk, I ask that you pass this on to your personal network - awareness is my ultimate goal.
Today, I took Isabella to her pediatrician to review some recent labs - a visit unrelated to autism, or so it appears. Her new pediatrician, a super nice guy, always is so amazed with how well she behaves and comments frequently saying "she obviously is high-functioning." Yes, she is. A year ago he may not have been so inclined to say that, but I digress. As he was typing up the notes for our referral to a specialist, he told me that he is including her history of Autism Spectrum Disorder but he is "making a note that she is high-functioning so they don't freak out." I was floored by his assumption that his esteemed colleague of a medical profession would be alarmed that a potential patient would have autism. And, I told him as such. He said that patients with autism take more time, and they might say, "oh, thanks for sending them to me." I told him how unfortunate I thought it was the medical profession felt that way and they should be more accepting considering that 1 IN 150 CHILDREN ARE DIAGNOSED WITH AUTISM. I continued to tell him that kids with autism are good kids. And, then it occurred to me how very unaware people are of that scary little word AUTISM including our front line of defense, pediatricians. Okay, here come the stats.
More children will be diagnosed with autism this year than AIDS, DIABETES and CANCER COMBINED.
1 in 150 children are diagnosed with autism
1 in 94 boys are on the spectrum
A new case is diagnosed almost every 20 minutes
Autism is the fast growing serious developmental disability in the U.S.
Autism research receives less than 5% of research funding than most other prevalent childhood diseases
There is no medical detection for autism and there is NO CURE
The estimated cost for families for a child with autism is more than $70,000 per year, most of which insurance does not cover
IT IS TIME TO SPREAD THE WORD! Here is the link to MY DONATION PAGE. From here, you can make a donation or join my team to walk and raise money for awareness as well. By participating in this event, you are helping to change the future for all who struggle with autism including my daughter, Isabella. By walking, you are getting us one step closer to finding what causes autism, how to prevent and treat it, and ultimately a cure so no family ever hears those words again. Until then, we walk to find answers and raise awareness about the devastating toll that autism has had on families like ours.
I need you to help make tomorrow be about dance lessons, school lunches and first words rather than therapy, doctor appointments and despair. Together, we will find the missing pieces.
Today, I took Isabella to her pediatrician to review some recent labs - a visit unrelated to autism, or so it appears. Her new pediatrician, a super nice guy, always is so amazed with how well she behaves and comments frequently saying "she obviously is high-functioning." Yes, she is. A year ago he may not have been so inclined to say that, but I digress. As he was typing up the notes for our referral to a specialist, he told me that he is including her history of Autism Spectrum Disorder but he is "making a note that she is high-functioning so they don't freak out." I was floored by his assumption that his esteemed colleague of a medical profession would be alarmed that a potential patient would have autism. And, I told him as such. He said that patients with autism take more time, and they might say, "oh, thanks for sending them to me." I told him how unfortunate I thought it was the medical profession felt that way and they should be more accepting considering that 1 IN 150 CHILDREN ARE DIAGNOSED WITH AUTISM. I continued to tell him that kids with autism are good kids. And, then it occurred to me how very unaware people are of that scary little word AUTISM including our front line of defense, pediatricians. Okay, here come the stats.
More children will be diagnosed with autism this year than AIDS, DIABETES and CANCER COMBINED.
1 in 150 children are diagnosed with autism
1 in 94 boys are on the spectrum
A new case is diagnosed almost every 20 minutes
Autism is the fast growing serious developmental disability in the U.S.
Autism research receives less than 5% of research funding than most other prevalent childhood diseases
There is no medical detection for autism and there is NO CURE
The estimated cost for families for a child with autism is more than $70,000 per year, most of which insurance does not cover
IT IS TIME TO SPREAD THE WORD! Here is the link to MY DONATION PAGE. From here, you can make a donation or join my team to walk and raise money for awareness as well. By participating in this event, you are helping to change the future for all who struggle with autism including my daughter, Isabella. By walking, you are getting us one step closer to finding what causes autism, how to prevent and treat it, and ultimately a cure so no family ever hears those words again. Until then, we walk to find answers and raise awareness about the devastating toll that autism has had on families like ours.
I need you to help make tomorrow be about dance lessons, school lunches and first words rather than therapy, doctor appointments and despair. Together, we will find the missing pieces.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Honey Mustard Roasted Chicken
Makes 4 servings.
Ingredients:
•2 large sweet potatos, cut into wedges
•2 lbs. chicken
•6 medium carrots, sliced
•2 tablespoons olive oil
•1 1/2 tablespoons honey
•3 tablespoons mustard
•1 teaspoon rosemary
•6-8 garlic cloves
•salt and pepper to taste
•lime juice
1. Preheat oven to 425° F. In a shallow pan, toss potatoes and carrots with oil, salt and pepper.
Peel the garlic cloves, and nestle the garlic amongst the vegetables and scatter the rosemary on top. Arrange the chicken pieces among the vegetables. Squirt a dash of lime juice on the chicken with salt and pepper. Bake uncovered for 30 minutes.
2. Stir together the mustard and honey, and spread over chicken. Stir vegetables, return chicken to pan, place back into the oven and bake 10-20 minutes, until chicken is cooked and vegetables are tender.
Nutritional Information
Calories 356.7
Carbohydrate 39.4g
Protien 30.5g
(adapted from pregnancy-calenders.net)
Ingredients:
•2 large sweet potatos, cut into wedges
•2 lbs. chicken
•6 medium carrots, sliced
•2 tablespoons olive oil
•1 1/2 tablespoons honey
•3 tablespoons mustard
•1 teaspoon rosemary
•6-8 garlic cloves
•salt and pepper to taste
•lime juice
1. Preheat oven to 425° F. In a shallow pan, toss potatoes and carrots with oil, salt and pepper.
Peel the garlic cloves, and nestle the garlic amongst the vegetables and scatter the rosemary on top. Arrange the chicken pieces among the vegetables. Squirt a dash of lime juice on the chicken with salt and pepper. Bake uncovered for 30 minutes.
2. Stir together the mustard and honey, and spread over chicken. Stir vegetables, return chicken to pan, place back into the oven and bake 10-20 minutes, until chicken is cooked and vegetables are tender.
Nutritional Information
Calories 356.7
Carbohydrate 39.4g
Protien 30.5g
(adapted from pregnancy-calenders.net)
Sunday, August 8, 2010
My Happy Place
A couple of birdies (of the same feather) told me that my blog seemed "angry." I think what they meant to say was sarcastic. These birds just happened to be drinking at the time so I can see how they might get that confused. Anyway, I thought I would humor them and redirect my tone to something a little more jovial - my happy place. Don't worry. It is very PG. I have kids, you know.
One word. YOGA. Seriously, I have fallen in love. I have done yoga a dozen or so times - maybe more, maybe less. But, just recently have I realized how awesome it is. Over the weekend, I did a class with the two aforementioned birds above, and I was even COMPLIMENTED on how good I was. Granted, they were mostly over 60 and the lights were off, not to mention the incense that was burning had us all high, but it counts. Hate the game, not the player. I guess my little baby in my pelvis centered my inner chi, because you ask anyone who knows me well and they will tell you my middle name ain't Grace. And, to all you naysayers, you work your body in ways you didn't think possible. Not only does my whole body ache, but I have a bruise. You know you worked it out when you have battle wounds.
Yoga must be like crack, because I am on a mission to get that high. I am addicted - I can't wait to do it again. All I can think about is my next Cobra or Thread the Needle. I shall perfect my Ujjayi Pranayama. I mean, who can even say that word? I'm just glad that my new obsession will increase my flexibility, as opposed to my first pregnancy when I was addicted to Twinkies. And, maybe - just MAYBE - my pelvis won't separate as it did in my second pregnancy. And to that I say, Namaste.
One word. YOGA. Seriously, I have fallen in love. I have done yoga a dozen or so times - maybe more, maybe less. But, just recently have I realized how awesome it is. Over the weekend, I did a class with the two aforementioned birds above, and I was even COMPLIMENTED on how good I was. Granted, they were mostly over 60 and the lights were off, not to mention the incense that was burning had us all high, but it counts. Hate the game, not the player. I guess my little baby in my pelvis centered my inner chi, because you ask anyone who knows me well and they will tell you my middle name ain't Grace. And, to all you naysayers, you work your body in ways you didn't think possible. Not only does my whole body ache, but I have a bruise. You know you worked it out when you have battle wounds.
Yoga must be like crack, because I am on a mission to get that high. I am addicted - I can't wait to do it again. All I can think about is my next Cobra or Thread the Needle. I shall perfect my Ujjayi Pranayama. I mean, who can even say that word? I'm just glad that my new obsession will increase my flexibility, as opposed to my first pregnancy when I was addicted to Twinkies. And, maybe - just MAYBE - my pelvis won't separate as it did in my second pregnancy. And to that I say, Namaste.
Friday, August 6, 2010
If you have gas, I am not going to touch your butt.
I am pregnant. Again. And, I am old and pregnant, so this pregnancy peave of mine is even more irritating than with babies past. I am three months pregnant. I am not showing, I AM BLOATED. Do not touch my belly and rub it like you are connecting with the baby. If you wanted to really connect with my fetus, you would be rubbing my pubic bone and that is a sure way to get your ass kicked. When you have gas, I wouldn't rub your butt cheeks. You get it? So, please the bloated belly is painful...keep your hands off.
With my last child, Madison, I managed to almost sail through my pregnancy without any strangers hands on my stomach, until that fated day when I was cornered in an elevator with a fellow (creepy) co-worker and he just couldn't resist the urge. Talk about awkward. Dude, we don't even work on the same floor. I don't know you like that. Nor do I plan or want to know you like that.
As a disclaimer, this post applies to aunts, uncles and grandparents of my current children. Now that I am hormonal, I feel liberated to tell you how I really feel- even though I know I have said this before. However, nieces and nephews will be allowed once the baby starts kicking. Until then, remember the navel bone is connected to the kick-you-in-the-groin bone.
With my last child, Madison, I managed to almost sail through my pregnancy without any strangers hands on my stomach, until that fated day when I was cornered in an elevator with a fellow (creepy) co-worker and he just couldn't resist the urge. Talk about awkward. Dude, we don't even work on the same floor. I don't know you like that. Nor do I plan or want to know you like that.
As a disclaimer, this post applies to aunts, uncles and grandparents of my current children. Now that I am hormonal, I feel liberated to tell you how I really feel- even though I know I have said this before. However, nieces and nephews will be allowed once the baby starts kicking. Until then, remember the navel bone is connected to the kick-you-in-the-groin bone.
Ah, the social anomaly that defies definition. Everyone uses Facebook for a different reason, right? I have decided, however, that the universal component to Facebook, the draw in which people can’t resist, is deception. I don’t mean cheating on your spouse or leading a double life (although that is not outside this parameter as there are those who use it for such purpose). I mean it in its purest simplicity of the word; partial truths or abstracting reality for your personal gain. I am guilty of it myself. Let me explain.
You get a Facebook account. You friend your besties and a couple of people from work, maybe college and even high school. The next thing you know, you have 752 friends. You post your every move and most people have hidden you from their feeds. No one cares what time you went to the gym or what you had for lunch, yet it still shows three people “like” your status. Let’s break down the deception, shall we?
1) You don’t have that many friends. My Facebook account says I have 150 friends. Total lie. I am a 35-year old mother with two children with a third on the way. Pregnant women are boring and hormonal, so the ten friends I really have don’t talk to me that much. In all actuality, I have three friends: 6 years, 18 months and a 37-year old with benefits…my husband.
2) You refuse to deny any friend request to maintain your “number.” Shaking your head no, are you? Lies.
3) Judging by your profile picture, you probably didn’t go to the gym, much less at 5 am. You should just be honest and say that nothing starts your day like a streusel and a diet coke. You are probably eating a Twinkie right now. I just ate some circus peanuts - right after I did Yoga on the Wii.
4) The three people that “like” your status are the same three people that like your every status. They have nothing better to do than to stalk your every move on Facebook. You probably don’t like them, but you are too worried about your numbers to delete them, or you won’t break the cardinal rule of disconnecting a friendship on Facebook. Which brings me to my next point.
I apparently missed the memo that you can’t disconnect friendships on Facebook or deny someone’s friend request. When did you lose the right to decide who you ‘friend?’ Do you go to a bar and find the most annoying people or contrasting to your personality type, sit with them awkwardly and roll your eyes every time they speak? No. But, you know you are doing that now on the other side of this screen, aren’t you? Busted. If we don’t speak in '”real” life, I am unsure why you would want to speak with me in a “digital” one. Unless you are creeping or that obsessed…you know who you are. And, then there are those people who you have friended and you realize that they can’t write anything in the English language without using the F word, and it is spelled wrong consistently. Or, those people who you may have been friends with 17 years ago, but realize that they still haven’t kicked their drug addiction, or they are so depressing that your own status updates have become tinted with suicidal undertones. The logical thing to do is “disconnect.” But, it is like you have just horse-whipped a boy scout. So, most people won’t do it. Like I said…I missed the memo. And then there is blocking. Dare I go there? It is a feature for a reason, people.
Facebook is truly rendering our next generation of young-uns stoopid and social basket cases. And, yes I know it is stupid, but that is my point. How hard is it to spell correctly? Does it really take that much longer to type “are” instead of “r"?” And to you married people or couples who banter back and forth on Facebook while you are with each other in the same room: you need therapy. Truly, you do. Farmhouse (or whatever it is called) is not the reason you joined and stay on Facebook. You aren’t kidding anyone. Get a turtle and really prove your point. You go on your Facebook everyday; don’t play like you don’t. And if you are “never on Facebook,” then why do you have an account? And, why do I keep seeing your updates? Oh, and why do you have three accounts with different aliases?Deception.
When I joined Facebook, I was curious. So many people I knew had an account. So, I tried it. It was fun, but I spend entirely too much of my time on it. I can’t quite figure out why, either. The social anomaly. My status updates usually are about some random thing my kids have done or a fleeting thought of my own. I post links, usually comical or political. No one dares comment on my political status updates. Why? Aren’t we “friends"?” Can’t we have an intellectual debate or agree to disagree? Now, I use Facebook for feeds from my autism, medical and health awareness sites. The magic has worn off. I too have hidden people from my feeds; guilty as charged. It is deception at its finest and at its worst. That isn’t who I am, and thus my Facebook days are over. Now, I shall blog. If you want to follow me…great. And, if not, suck it. No deception there.
Loves
You get a Facebook account. You friend your besties and a couple of people from work, maybe college and even high school. The next thing you know, you have 752 friends. You post your every move and most people have hidden you from their feeds. No one cares what time you went to the gym or what you had for lunch, yet it still shows three people “like” your status. Let’s break down the deception, shall we?
1) You don’t have that many friends. My Facebook account says I have 150 friends. Total lie. I am a 35-year old mother with two children with a third on the way. Pregnant women are boring and hormonal, so the ten friends I really have don’t talk to me that much. In all actuality, I have three friends: 6 years, 18 months and a 37-year old with benefits…my husband.
2) You refuse to deny any friend request to maintain your “number.” Shaking your head no, are you? Lies.
3) Judging by your profile picture, you probably didn’t go to the gym, much less at 5 am. You should just be honest and say that nothing starts your day like a streusel and a diet coke. You are probably eating a Twinkie right now. I just ate some circus peanuts - right after I did Yoga on the Wii.
4) The three people that “like” your status are the same three people that like your every status. They have nothing better to do than to stalk your every move on Facebook. You probably don’t like them, but you are too worried about your numbers to delete them, or you won’t break the cardinal rule of disconnecting a friendship on Facebook. Which brings me to my next point.
I apparently missed the memo that you can’t disconnect friendships on Facebook or deny someone’s friend request. When did you lose the right to decide who you ‘friend?’ Do you go to a bar and find the most annoying people or contrasting to your personality type, sit with them awkwardly and roll your eyes every time they speak? No. But, you know you are doing that now on the other side of this screen, aren’t you? Busted. If we don’t speak in '”real” life, I am unsure why you would want to speak with me in a “digital” one. Unless you are creeping or that obsessed…you know who you are. And, then there are those people who you have friended and you realize that they can’t write anything in the English language without using the F word, and it is spelled wrong consistently. Or, those people who you may have been friends with 17 years ago, but realize that they still haven’t kicked their drug addiction, or they are so depressing that your own status updates have become tinted with suicidal undertones. The logical thing to do is “disconnect.” But, it is like you have just horse-whipped a boy scout. So, most people won’t do it. Like I said…I missed the memo. And then there is blocking. Dare I go there? It is a feature for a reason, people.
Facebook is truly rendering our next generation of young-uns stoopid and social basket cases. And, yes I know it is stupid, but that is my point. How hard is it to spell correctly? Does it really take that much longer to type “are” instead of “r"?” And to you married people or couples who banter back and forth on Facebook while you are with each other in the same room: you need therapy. Truly, you do. Farmhouse (or whatever it is called) is not the reason you joined and stay on Facebook. You aren’t kidding anyone. Get a turtle and really prove your point. You go on your Facebook everyday; don’t play like you don’t. And if you are “never on Facebook,” then why do you have an account? And, why do I keep seeing your updates? Oh, and why do you have three accounts with different aliases?Deception.
When I joined Facebook, I was curious. So many people I knew had an account. So, I tried it. It was fun, but I spend entirely too much of my time on it. I can’t quite figure out why, either. The social anomaly. My status updates usually are about some random thing my kids have done or a fleeting thought of my own. I post links, usually comical or political. No one dares comment on my political status updates. Why? Aren’t we “friends"?” Can’t we have an intellectual debate or agree to disagree? Now, I use Facebook for feeds from my autism, medical and health awareness sites. The magic has worn off. I too have hidden people from my feeds; guilty as charged. It is deception at its finest and at its worst. That isn’t who I am, and thus my Facebook days are over. Now, I shall blog. If you want to follow me…great. And, if not, suck it. No deception there.
Loves
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