Homeschool?

What about friends?

What about social interactions?

Don’t you think the actual teachers are better to teach your child?

Homeschooled kids are weird.

You just don’t want to vaccinate, huh?

When people approach a family who has chosen to homeschool their children, they are so full of misconceptions and ignorance that they just usually spew it out like a Venetian fountain.

FRIENDS.

Who says that friends are only found in a public school classroom? I know that many of my BEST friends were found while I was out experience life. People with common interests. Not people I was forced to congregate with based purely on age and regional location. Forced interactions don’t friendships make.

In the same breath, social interactions don’t only happen with peers. My child interact in stores, doctors’ offices, with their siblings and family. Nobody define social interactions as those only had within the walls of a government funded school.

Ahhh. Teachers. Teachers are great people. I’ve personally had some amazing teachers in my years. And I’ve had some who had checked out and didn’t care much. I actually had an Arts and Humanities class in 11th grade that was required for graduation. The teacher, who was a French teacher said that she didn’t like this class and she didn’t like teaching it. So why the hell should I like learning it? All of this is a moot point to the fact, I don’t have 25+ children running around that I have to attempt to teach. I have 3 that are being homeschooled. Each of them, my own. I carried them, birthed them, and subsequently taught them through their early development. I think I am perfectly capable and qualified to teach my own children.

Homeschooled kids ARE weird. If by weird you mean not pretentious jerks that are easily swayed by their peers and all follow Kanye on Twitter. (Not saying there’s anything wrong with Kanye but Yeezus, he’s not who I want my children aspiring to be.)  I’m going to make a massive generalization here, from my experience many kids in the public school system are ignorant, rude, sex driven little beasts with unrestricted access to the internet on their computers and iPhones. They’re self entitled titty babies who cry, “That’s not fair” when they don’t get to play first string.  Everyone gets a participation medal even if they suck.

Children are never allowed to learn to cope with disappointment and failure. Failure is a part of life. It happens. Its how we learn to do better but now, they expect something for nothing just because they’re there.

Now as to my children’s vaccination status…

PUBLIC SCHOOL, PRIVATE SCHOOL, HOMESCHOOL, NO SCHOOL— my vaccination status and their medical records are nobodies business. Ohio currently allows children who are not vaccinated in the school as long as they have the proper exemptions filled out. This may change in the future but for now, it is what it is.

So the next time someone says, “Oh we’re homeschooling”. Don’t be that guy. Don’t be the person who tells them they’re making a bad choice. Just because it isn’t the choice for you doesn’t mean its a bad one. People have their reasoning.

It is 11:51 am and I’ve yelled 12 times.

For the last four years or so, I’ve been practicing gentle parenting. I don’t normally yell. I don’t spank. We use our words but the last few weeks have been hell.

My patience is wearing thin. My oldest is 9. She tests my patience to a point where I want to cry. I am so defeated that a 9 year old is getting the best of me. We start bed time routine at 8PM. They’re still fucking around at 9PM and 10Pm and occasionally even 11PM. They don’t even try. I’ve asked. I’ve pleaded. I’ve been nice about it and now the only thing left is being not nice about it.

My four year old laughs at me when I tell him to do something. He legitimately falls on the floor laughing at me. He cries and screams and tantrums to no end and then when its all over, he laughs.

My two year old doesn’t speak. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t care. You try to talk to her and she just pokes you in the eye and says “Mama Eyes” and proceeds to point out everyone’s eyes.

So I’ve yelled and yelled and yelled and threatened to take away all of their toys. I’ve tried scaring them into submission. I’ve tried saying, “I’m calling dad!” Nothing works. They’re still not listening.

I’ve come to a simple conclusion:

My children escaped from my womb to make me want to run away. They elicit this fight or flight response every time.

So if you need me, I’ll be binge watching ID while eating giant Reese’s because #adultingsucks.

An unending cycle of dependence

In February of 2016, my husband lost his job. He had a very good job. It paid well and we were able to pay for everything we needed and have extra left over for fun stuff. We were middle class and I was okay with that. We didn’t depend on any sort of welfare to get by.

As soon as he lost his job, I applied for assistance to make it less stressful. My husband applied for literally hundreds of jobs and I applied for some as well in addition to my design work and art. He went to a few interviews and never heard anything back. After 5 months, he found a job making half of what he had earlier but I told him, “We’ll make it work. We always make it work.” 

So he’s been working for over a month now and he’s make 1/4 of what he normally does so far. The money is gone before the weekend is over with paying bills.

A few days ago, I got a letter from the ODJFS that we needed to verify income. That’s fine. I’m not trying to scam anyone and we send it in. They’re cutting our benefits in half. So seeing our predicament, I started applying for more jobs. Seeing as I have a college degree, I figured I could make more than minimum wage but alas— there are no jobs where I live that aren’t minimum wage.

So I look into daycare.

$500 a week. So I look up child care assistance… by working, I make myself ineligible.

So then I think, “What if we work alternating shifts?”

All jobs in my town seem to require open availability and won’t let me just work one shift and my husband has been working different schedules because of training.

Its a never ending cycle.

Starving Artist PT 1

I always remember being a kid and my parents telling me that I had to pick a job where I’d make money.  Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t make myself love doing anything but creating beautiful things.

Every career seemed all about money and progress and promotions. I honestly, just hated the rat race. Every job was about who could do the most and best for the least amount of money so I said FUCK IT and started working for myself. I refined my abilities that I had long since forgotten. I relearned skills I hadn’t used in years and then I took the leap and started posting.

Part of me thinks that people just comment about how amazing something is because they’re too nice. You post it up and no one buys it. Is it because mechanical reproduction and Pinterest have cheapened what I do? Is it because people really are that poor right now that I’m not marketing to rich enough people to put a poster on their wall? I don’t get it.

I want everyone to be able to put a picture on their wall. I also want to at least break even. People don’t realize what goes into creating a work of art. In addition to supplies— some things take hours or days to create. Is my time not worth anything to these people? Do they not care that I spend $50 a month simply on ink cartridges? Or $6 shipping just to get their letters to me and then another $5 shipping it back?

Art is beautiful. I love making things but I would also like to make some money today.

A happy medium

There’s this back and forth in the parenting world and it disgusts me to no end.

You aren’t CRUNCHY enough.

You’re too crunchy, ya hippie.

Your scheduled cesarean is a terrible idea.

You can’t have a natural birth. Drugs are there for a reason, duh.

You aren’t even going to try to breastfeed?

OMG the crap in that formula is going to make your baby retarded.

GMOS?! Eww.

You spend all that extra on organic?

It goes on and on and on.

The biggest competition (for lack of a better word) comes when you see the natural birth advocates versus the medical intervention advocates. Instead of educating each other, they bash and post malignant articles to shun the other side. Its sad. I mean from a personal standpoint, I find that there can be a happy medium between the two. I was lucky and had no complications from my cesareans. Would I wish it upon anyone else? Hell, no. Would I try to talk someone out of it if it wasn’t medically necessary? You betcha. Do I judge their choice? Probably secretly but I will be as supportive as I possibly can. Many people told me that a VBA3C (vaginal birth after three prior cesareans) was not possible. It was too risky and there were too many unknown variables. I did the best research I could with the information I could find and people’s stories and decided for me, it was in my best interest to try and have a TOLA3C in a hospital setting with constant monitoring. I would never do anything to put my baby at risk but it was pertinent for me to try and show other people that it can be done safely and to show myself and those doctors who denied me previously that I’M NOT BROKEN.

It was never about the perfect birth for me. I don’t have a perfect birth. I have everyone’s stories of their perfect births but my perfect birth is one where I am alive and my baby is perfect. Having the vaginal birth is just a perk. When things didn’t go my way with this last birthing experience, I couldn’t allow myself to be upset. I could have died but not because I chose to VBAC but because I had gestational hypertension that required magnesium and me sitting for my entire birthing experience. I was unable to use gravity and wasn’t given ample time before more interventions were used. Pitocin caused a post partum hemorrhage which could have cost me my life but thankfully the medical professionals acted fast and accordingly.

I skipped many of the extra tests during my pregnancy this time. It wasn’t because I felt the need to tell the medical field off but it wasn’t entirely necessary. I had my finger pricked at every appointment.

So when I say, there can be a happy medium where people can birth natural with safety precautions, I mean it. There’s no need for this garbage to continue. People are so set that their way is the only way but its not.

In times like we’re currently facing, we need to band together and be a community together.

Bullies.

Ever since I’ve become a mother, I’ve learned that the biggest bullies are other mothers. So often I see women putting another woman down for her choices without knowing the whole story.

“Oh, you didn’t even try to breastfeed? You lazy, selfish, person. You shouldn’t even have kids.”

“You’re not vaccinating? You should be sterilized?”

“You’re circumcising your son? What about his rights?”

“You eat processed foods? You’re killing your children.”

“Crying it out? Are you insane? They’re going to be retarded because of it.”

“You’re going to smother your children because you cosleep.”

“You’re a pervert if you cobathe.”

“You discipline by spanking?! You are breaking the sacred bond of trust between mother and child.”

Here’s my take on it. I am not a crusader for people to parent my way. If you are, then you ought to look for a new hobby besides pushing your beliefs down anyone’s throat. There is more than one way to raise a child and your way isn’t always the right way for someone else.

We are so stuck in this mode of though that involves being the best and knowing what is the best. Its saddening that mothers can’t turn to each other for support without getting treated like garbage.

That woman you made feel like shit because she didn’t breastfeed, had a double mastectomy to save her life.

That woman who doesn’t cosleep, has an alcoholic husband and can’t risk having her beautiful baby in her bed.

The mother who cobathes can barely afford her water bill as it is.

The woman who chooses not to vaccinate, lost a child to vaccine injury and is just too ashamed to talk about it.

We don’t stop and think about why people do things the way they do. We just take their choices at face value and attribute it to being a horrible person and parent. Its not fair.

As a person who runs a groups for moms, I am always seeing mother’s bashing other mother’s choices and it hurts my soul because in the end, we’re all mothers doing the best we can for our children. Parenting is already hard enough without having to listen to the constant barrage of insults.

BE KIND. EDUCATE. LOVE.

This is my group’s motto. Honestly, when I put it up there, I meant it. If you want to change how someone does something, attacking them will never help. It will never fix it. It will only make them defensive and angry and hurt. Attacking them will make them feel like they are less than human and they are pieces of crap.

Mother’s are always trying to teach their children not to be bullies but most of the time, we as mothers, are the biggest bullies and our own worst enemies.

Being A SAHM

My day started at six am with a poopsplosion from the youngest. She has had tummy issues for the last two days and it has resulted in numerous outfit changed on both of our parts. So bright and early before I’ve even had a cup of coffee, I am giving a 10 month old a bath and singing her a song because she hates baths— with a passion.

7 AM rolls around and the oldest is up. She’s hungry and I better make her cereal right then or she’ll do it herself and make a huge mess.

8 AM brings the boys awakening. He’s screaming and punching the door because god forbid I take my time. He also managed to pee through his diaper and the bed, his jammies, and he are all soaking wet with the awesome smell of piss and he crapped up his back. Just another bath to another kid who hates baths even more than Charley.

I have to hurry though because Adison has to be in language arts class at 9 AM and I have to stay on her like white on rice. She wants to go to Youtube and watch Frozen videos or play stupid Frozen games. She wants to fight with her brother because he’s being a jerk. Class runs until 10:15ish and then I have 45 minutes to go to the store and get what I need to get.

I get home at 10:50 and unload three kids plus all the crap I bought and then I have to get everything ready for my husband to get up to go to work. So 30 minutes to roll his cigarettes, make his lunch, get his clothes, and put everything into the bathroom for him. I wake him up at 11:28. I have to change two diapers in between there too because they all shit at the most inopportune time.

I haven’t eaten anything nor I have I sat down besides to drive the car.

My husband leaves for work at 11:44 and then I have to get the kids fed their lunch and then Adison into her school work which she has to work on until 1 PM when its time for math class. I have to keep Benjamin busy while Adison works and Charley naps and I still haven’t eaten anything.

Benjamin finally goes down for a nap around 2 PM and I get stuff done around the house. The last few days, I’ve painted the entire downstairs. Charley wakes up from her nap and Adison plays with her for a few minutes and then around 4 or 5, Benjamin wakes up and he’s hungry. So I start dinner and that takes usually 45 minutes. While I am cooking, I am asking Benjamin to “quit touching the lamp” or “stop climbing on the chairs.” Its always the same thing, every single damn day.

“Stay out of the fridge.”

“Quit licking your sister.”

“Quit hitting each other.”

“No, you can’t have a cookie. It’s almost dinner time.”

I feed everyone dinner and its yet again, a whole lot of me telling Ben to sit down and eat. We usually spend over an hour at the table. Everyone calms down and watches a bit of tv before bed. Charley falls asleep in her pack and play around 8 PM. I take Benjamin upstairs and put him in his bed and we read the ABC book (EVERY SINGLE NIGHT) and I tell him “Good night Tookie. I love you.”

And I get a cute little, “Lub du.” He doesn’t even take the cup out of his mouth.

9 PM rolls around! Adison’s turn. I then spend the next hour telling Adison to go upstairs with her coming back down to tell me something or ask if she can do my hair or something ridiculous. It goes on and on and on until I finally say, “Dad’s on his way home.”

She finally goes into her room for the night.

I spend the next hour or so picking up after everyone. I put all the toys away and do the dishes. I feed all the animals.

My husband walks in the door.

Me: “How was work?”

Him: “It was work. What did you do all day?”

Me: “The usual.”

Him: “Sooo nothing?”

I spend the next two hours getting homework done and making taking a bath or shower. Then I go to bed.

In addition to all these things, I am also supposed to take the garbage down to the end of the driveway, shovel the driveway, and in the summer— I mow.

What the fuck?

So men, if you have a stay at home wife, don’t be a dick. She doesn’t stop all day. Even if she did nothing else but take care of the children, that’s more than your job. You can at least escape to the shitter at work. If she says she needs a break, trust her. She does. Don’t ever say you have a vacation every day.

Lastly, don’t make her do what you’re supposed to do.

Before Marriage

I usually don’t blog about super personal stuff but I thought that maybe what’s going on with my life could help someone else.

Before I was married, I had exactly two best friends. One has been my best friend since kindergarten. We met on the playground and she chased me around because I had a shirt with a pony on it and ever since have been each other’s go to friend. Nothing has ever come between us. She’s still living her life and respects that I am married with three kids and doesn’t get mad when I don’t want to go to bars. We hang out on my couch and talk about the things going on. Our friendship has evolved and matured the same as we have.

I met my other friend at an old high school hangout. He was a private school kid and after our initial meeting, we were inseparable. He’d spend the night at my parent’s and we’d talk about boys and our crappy dates. I’d take him to meet every perspective boyfriend and he’d always have final say. Fast forward to today and apparently, I am a bad friend throwing away a friendship because I have changed. Of course I’ve changed since I was fifteen years old. I’ve had so many life experiences in the last thirteen years. I’ve met lots of people and forged ever lasting friendships with people from the military and my general shenanigans across the US. I’ve learned that life isn’t always peachy and I’ve become quite cynical about it. I’ve learned bad things happen to good people and that sometimes the world isn’t fair but I’ve changed for the better.

Imagine someone telling you they don’t know you anymore. Why is it so hard to tell him that maybe if he got over the fact that I wasn’t the same person, he could meet the new me. The person who’s life revolves around my children and my husband and who’s idea of fun is sitting on my couch eating twizzlers alone and watching Netflix. It hurts that he doesn’t understand that he is my friend but not a priority. How do you tell someone they aren’t a priority? Wouldn’t it be safe to assume that he would understand that without me having to tell him? Should I be mad that he’s acting like a child?

I was stupid. I blamed my husband when I didn’t want to hang out. So that started an intervention of my husband being controlling. Thankfully, I got the balls to tell him that I just didn’t want to hang out it him and that ended the discussion of my husband being controlling. For those of you who don’t know, I have the most freedom in the world. I want something, I get it. I want to go somewhere, I go. That being said, my husband and I discuss if me doing something or going somewhere is financially responsible. We are a single income family of five0 so of course we have to be aware of our bank account.

Being a single income family means that I can’t go get Chinese whenever you’re hungry and it means we can’t just go buy another vehicle so I can available at your whim. Yes, we have one car. My 2003 Ford Focus named Ferdinand that has nearly 200k miles and has been in three accidents. He takes it to work every day unless I have something to do because I am not getting three kids up at 5 AM just to drive around. At this point, getting another car isn’t a priority nor is it an option and frankly, I don’t want a car payment or full coverage insurance because we’re saving up to buy a house.

For those worried about my children’s safety while my husband is at work, he is a supervisor. I say, “Honey, come home. There’s an emergency.” He will be home in less than 7 minutes. I have epinephrine, albuterol, and am fully trained in both CPR and infant CPR. I know how to set broken bones and perform a tourniquet. I pray nothing bad happens but I am about as prepared as you can be and people who know me in real life can attest to the fact, I am pretty much always calm. If I were really unprepared for what happens, the emergency rescue is seriously five minutes from my house and have a very fast turn around time.

Sorry this is so long winded but this has been two weekends of me being barraged and attacked because I am such a horrible friend. I’m sorry you can’t see me once a month but seriously, I can’t even take a shower or shit by myself once a month.

5. Never apologize for being a dickwad and then continue to be a dickwad by being a self righteous, pretentious cry baby.

4. Marriages where one of the spouses is still going out like their single is doomed to fail.

3. Honoring my husband is entirely different than being controlled.

2. I may not be super religious but I do believe in biblical marriages. I honor my husband. I don’t cheat. I don’t lie. I tell him everything and more than anything I respect everything he does for me and our children.

1. I don’t go anywhere without my kids. They’re like my left arm. So don’t tell me that you’re awesome for being “cool” with my kids coming to hang out with us. If you had an issue with that, I’d ALWAYS pick them over you.

So friends of married mothers and father, stop being fucking assholes and realize that people grow up. Priorities change. Sometimes a mom with a six year old, two year old, and newborn is totally cool with showering and taking a nap. My husbands only night off for the week will be spent with him because I miss him during the week.

Two last things…

I’m almost thirty.

(I don’t do sleepovers.)

I fucking hate Chinese food.

BOOBS ARE MAGICAL.

When I say, “Boobs are magical” I mean it in the unicorn or flying pig kind of way. All these years, I’ve though boobs were just fun bags for my husband and here they are leaking and hurting and nurturing a tiny little human. Breastfeeding and I have a love-hate relationship. I love it and it hates me back.

So far, I’ve dealt with thrush twice and I must say that as much as I love seeing purple everywhere, I don’t enjoy feeling like I am lactating razor blades. (Yeah, it hurts that much.) We also get to deal with the small baby things where every single person who has to weigh the baby makes me feel absolutely inadequate. I also get to deal with the cuteness of milk drunk babies. Nothing is better then a little baby completely satisfied with your breast milk.

I also find that the more comfortable I get with nursing, the more I want to share the love and show everyone, although this not always appreciated. I have not had too many unpleasant experiences when I have to nurse Charley in public, YET. I am sure I will get some ignorant person telling me to cover or to do it the bathroom. The stares will continue even though she’s in her sling and people will resist the urge to say something.

Its an amazing thing. I gave up with Bug early because I was selfish and lazy. I made the mistake of giving Ben bottles because I didn’t want to feel embarrassed and because I learned not to be selfish and lazy when it comes to your children, I slaved away at a pump for two years. With Charley, I want to have an amazing extended breastfeeding relationship. I don’t care if people says its for me or she’s too old.

Journey to baby… with the worst OB ever.

My first pregnancy, I had the most amazing doctor team ever. I knew all of them. The appointment wait times were very bearable. They were passionate, kind, understanding, and they listened.

Then I moved to Ashtabula County, OH where your choice in OBGYNs is very limited unless you want to drive 30+ minutes in either direction. I have been attending the office’s of Dr. Laz in Ashtabula since I was 26 weeks pregnant with Benjamin. During my pregnancy with Benjamin, I didn’t have any issues really. He didn’t have to order much lab work or any ultrasounds, he just measured and finally did the c section when it was time.

I find that going to him for an entire pregnancy has become the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened in my life. This has been a recurring theme with any doctor affiliated with Cleveland Clinic though. They will tell you how much they care until it comes down to how they can bill my Medicaid for even more. You want an exceptional example?

May 23, 2013- Benjamin wakes up with a cold. He is having trouble breathing and a slight fever. I decided to take him up to ACMC. We get there and he is diagnosed with CROUP. Please keep in mind, he didn’t have a single symptom of croup. All of a sudden, we’re in the back of an ambulance being transported to Cleveland Clinic Children’s Hospital. Upon arrival, the doctor asks us why we’re even there and says Ben has a cold that agitated his asthma. He’s given a nebulizer and prescription for Albuterol and told lots of fluids and rest.  We could never get his pediatrician to diagnose his asthma because it was ALWAYS aspiration of breast milk. Then again his genetically big head was caused by hydrocephalus and his genetically small stature was caused by failure to thrive.

His new pediatrician says he’s perfect.

That hydrocephalus and failure to thrive all require a referral to another Cleveland Clinic doctor who can bill Benjamin’s Medicaid for more unnecessary services. How about the once a day lab work for the first three weeks of his life which required us to go to the local hospital every day?

So back to the original issue at hand… My ob has sent me for two glucose tests. One at twelve weeks and another at 26 weeks. Apparently, the first one was to get a base level. I have never had that happen before… EVER. After every single ultrasound, the next day something is “wrong” and I have to be sent to the Maternal/fetal medicine doctor who travels from Cleveland and never finds anything wrong. Two weeks before my schedule c section, I am being told my child is measuring small and I have to go for another ultrasound. They said they could get me in Friday at 2. I tell the woman on the phone that isn’t possible. Well, we’ll put you in anyways.

And you’d think that a mother who has had 5-6 ultrasounds would have lots of pictures of their beautiful baby. Nope. I have 5. OF THE SAME PROFILE. I have none declaring gender, none of her face, no little hands waving ‘hi’. I ask for more and am told this is just for fun and she doesn’t have to give me any pictures if she doesn’t want to.

I’ve lost 40 pounds during this pregnancy and explain to the OB that I have no appetite whatsoever and frequently eat only 500-800 calories a day. I try to eat more but I just feel so full or sick. He doesn’t seem to think its an issue. Any pain I have is normal and won’t even consider it being anything else. My constant infections are of no concern and they show no sense of urgency when calling in prescriptions.

Cleveland Clinic has ruined pregnancy for me. They say children are the best form of birth control but I would honestly say having the worst possible OB and office has definitely made me question my decision to have more children in the future.