Showing posts with label To Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label To Women. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 9, 2019

A Glimpse of Vanilla

 

Hello, my friends.  I'm back!! A lot has happened over the past year (thus sporadic posting). I've written and released a novel and a children's book. I'm writing a second novel and have another children's book in the final stages of illustration and editing. There have also been a lot of personal mountains to climb, which I will address in future posts. But in my first post back, I have something slightly more scandalous on my mind.  Here is your warning; things are about to get hilariously hot and spicy. So if you are easily embarrassed or don't want to laugh out loud in the office, stop reading now!

 I like peppermint ice cream. I love peppermint ice cream smothered in hot fudge, with whipped cream and a cherry on top. And hell yes, I want sprinkles too!! The more whipped cream, hot fudge, cherries, and sprinkles, the better. I'll sit down and devour every sinful bite, savoring each lick of the spoon. Yes, I love a good sundae.


But there are days when I only want a good, old-fashioned vanilla cone, just one scoop of vanilla on a plain Jane sugar cone. No, I don't want a waffle cone. No, I don't want to mess with sprinkles. No, I don't want a second scoop of your hand-made horchata cinnamon flavor. Yes, I do know that there are 3.5 million flavor combinations available. But damn it, I just want a simple, no fuss, no muss, vanilla ice cream cone.


I'm like this with a lot of things. Some days I just want a plain sugar cookie or a good old-fashioned McDonald's cheeseburger. Sometimes I want to wear my old comfortable tennis shoes with my most comfortable pair of worn-out jeans. And sometimes I like plain, vanilla, no-frills sex! There I said it. Yes, I know toys are fun. Swinging from the ceiling in chains and leather is exciting. But some days, I don't want the hassle. Some days I'm tired, and I want comfort above adventure. And hell, some days I just want to close my eyes, think of the Queen and get it over with (and I'm not even British).


I feel like, as a culture, we have decided that everything in life needs to be a unique and exciting experience. We even want our coffee to be a unicorn (looking at you, Starbucks Unicorn Frap). Every day has to be a holiday and every holiday has to be an over-the-top celebration.

When I was a kid, we wore green on St Patrick's day and ate corned beef. That's it. There were no leprechaun traps, green milk-covered Lucky Charms, or piles of golden chocolate coins to be found at the end of a glitter-dusted rainbow. You wore green so that you didn't get pinched and maybe, if lucky, colored a four-leaf clover color-by-number worksheet at school. Then you went home—The End. Mom was not up until four in the morning, hanging rainbows, setting leprechaun traps, or coloring your milk green. And that was okay because you enjoyed not getting pinched and color-by-number worksheets. But I digress.


I am blessed to run an online group for women where we talk about sex and all kinds of scandalous things. The group was started by a dear friend, Emily Dixon, after she wrote a revolutionary book, Scandalous: Things Good Christian Girls Don't Talk About -But Probably Should (you can find the book 
here). If you are a woman and want an incredible, supportive group of hundreds of women, you should check us out on Facebook (sorry, guys, this is a women-only group). However, the group can get pretty Scandalous at times. So be forewarned.

 I bring this up because I am fortunate enough to interact with hundreds of women daily. And I have noticed that plain Jane vanilla sex is no longer considered okay. Every sexual encounter should be a combination of the Kama Sutra and a porn movie.


I was lucky enough to be the mother of young children before this was a thing. I mean, sure, my husband and I had some exciting sex. But we didn't have a fully outfitted BDSM dungeon in our basement.  I didn't have to worry about my anal beads and our babies' amber teething beads getting mixed up (full disclosure: my kids didn't have teething beads either. Nope, it was good, old-fashioned, BPA-loaded plastic teething rings for them). I wasn't rushing to take down the sex swing to hang the Johnny Jumper.

More than swinging from the ceiling, I remember falling into bed dead, exhausted from a day of keeping those tiny humans alive and bathed.  We had sex (obviously, we have five kids), and we even had some excellent, hot and heavy, toys-included sex. But we also enjoyed a lot of plain vanilla sex because that was all we had the energy for. Because sometimes it's about the comfort, not the thrill.  Sometimes you are just in the mood to have a quick vanilla ice cream cone. And that is okay! It's normal. It's even healthy. Not every day is Christmas; that's what makes Christmas special.
Also, if you need help keeping those anal beads and the teething beads organized, this could be for you:

I'm here to help.  Much love, Kristine

Saturday, October 18, 2014

A Ho-Bath Gone Wrong

Warning: The following blog post is for the ladies; it will make you laugh and cry and probably pee your pants a little. Depends are advised past this point. To my readers of the male variety, this blog post will contain references to personal hygiene products and tender lady parts; continue reading at your own discretion.

This is the story of a mom; a miserable mom; a miserable mom, with miserable kids; a miserable mom, with miserable kids, in a hurry; a miserable mom, with miserable kids, in a hurry, in desperate need of a shower.  This is the story of "The Ho-Bath Gone Wrong".
This is the OPPOSITE of a Ho-Bath
It was a beautiful June morning in north Texas........Okay that's a lie.  It was a hot, humid. sticky, miserable morning in north Texas.  At nine am the temperature was already 99 degrees and it was climbing fast.  Normally, I am the freak that  LOVES this kind of weather but two major things were wrong with this particular day: 1) It was unusually humid.  I love heat; I revel in heat but I hate humidity.  I can't breathe, my joints ache and worse of all my hair looks like a pile of writhing snakes, it's all kinds of curly hair drama.
2) More importantly, our air conditioner was broken.  By broken, I mean it had turned my entryway into a swimming pool with large bits of ceiling plaster floating in it (our AC unit is upstairs, above said entryway).     Gallons of water had come spewing from the ceiling.  My husband (bless his heart) determined that he and Google were up to this particular repair challenge.  I love my husband; he can do magical things with a computer, he can make them stand up and dance.  He however, is not a plumber or an A/C repair type guy.  Knowing this, I called for an estimate on what the repair was going to cost, despite his well intention-ed assertions that he "would fix this".  The quote wasn't pretty, in fact it was bleak.   I decided that maybe he and Google were up to this challenge after all; mistake 1.

 So the house was a cozy 105, swampy degrees. This was day five of  no A/C in the north Texas summer (also known as Satan's Thermostat).
If I was miserable, the boys were more miserable.  If I was cranky (and I was), the boys were MORE cranky.  We had done every single day trip I could think of in the past five days; lake trips, water park trips, wild life refuge trips, ice cream trips.  The house was trashed because we were only home long enough to eat dinner, shower and sleep on the mattresses we had scattered around the living room downstairs; heat rises, you know.  Suddenly an inspiration struck, I would bring the boys to the movies! Movie theaters are cool, movie theaters are quiet,  movie theaters entertain the boys so I don't have to.
" Dear God in Heaven, Thank you for creating movie theaters. AMEN."  I sent a quick prayer of thanksgiving for this sanity saving miracle, as I feverishly looked up movie times on my phone.  I needed the first showing of any appropriate movie I could find. I didn't care if it was The Smurfs 2 on an endless loop (I was  that desperate!).  I found a movie that the boys wanted to see and it started in exactly 50 minutes.  Now 50 minutes doesn't sound like a time crunch. However,when you factor the movie theater is twenty minutes away on a good traffic day but good traffic days had ceased to exist since they decided to do construction on every single highway, byway and side road between our house and the theater, it meant we would be lucky to make it in time if we left immediately.  This presented a true crisis.  Remember, how I mentioned it was a swampy 105 degrees in our house?  It was in the best interest of the general public that I have a shower but there was no time for even a quick shower.  But if I skipped a shower I may be considered a bio-hazard and put into bio-hazard unit for detoxification......I would have to make time for a Ho-Bath, not ideal, but a functional compromise between public safety and my sanity.  I ran up stairs where the temperature is a blistering 115 degrees, or something close to it.  I rushed through my bedroom, taking time only to grab the essentials: clean clothes, deodorant, perfume, body spray.  I purposely ignore the thousand loud "MooooooM!!!!!!!!"'s I  hear.  I try to ignore the thumps and the crashes and pray "Dear God, let them survive five minutes while I get ready!  PLEASE"   I hear my bedroom door open as I am turning on the water in my bathroom sink and stripping down for my less than ideal toilette.  "DO NOT COME IN HERE!!! I"M NAKED!! GET DRESSED, put shoes on and get along for five freaking minutes!!"  Nice mom, pleasant mom, somewhat together mom, has been replaced by a naked, raving lunatic with snakey hair and smelly arm pits.  This is not the day to mess with me!  I splash water on all the important parts, keeping an eye on the bathroom door (the lock hasn't worked in ages, we really need to fix that).  Still keeping a wary eye on the bathroom door I reach for the feminine hygiene wipes I keep under the bathroom sink. " Thank you God for inventing these public shaming savers." I whisper as I rip open the package, still looking at the door.
Then I set about my task at hand, hurriedly but thoroughly cleansing the most offending areas.  The arm pits and under boob area complete with no issue I reach for a second wipe and go to work on my lady parts, thoroughly cleaning with no real thought to finesse.  Then all the sudden it hit, this terrible burning.  My hoo-ha was suddenly being burned alive by the fires of hell.  I let out a scream, that was heard all the way down in the Devil's lair.  My ears were ringing, my eyes were stinging, I stumble over to the bathtub and turn on the cold water and sit down.  It is to no avail, Satan and all his demons were still burning the living daylights out of my tender flower.   I confessed all my sins, I pleaded with God to make it stop, I promised to live a perfect life, to never swear again, to never, yell at my precious, hellion, children again, just please GOD MAKE THE BURNING STOP!!!!!!!!
I hop out of the bathtub and dry my tears with a towel, then I see it, laying on top of the first hygiene wipe package was a second, much smaller package, one that under normal circumstances I would never confuse for a ho-bath wipe.  There sitting on my sink, plain as a day, was an open alcohol swab.  I had just thoroughly scrubbed my sweet lady parts with an alcohol swab!!!!!!
I toweled off, applied all my deodorant, body spray and perfume,all the while ignoring the hell fires that persisted in my nether regions. I quickly dressed, loaded the boys into the truck and headed to the movies, the burning slowly, so slowly, fading away.  The boys enjoyed the movie and the rest of the world continued on as if nothing had happened.  But my world had changed, never again would I be able to look at a feminine hygiene cleansing wipe without feeling the echoes of the flames of hell licking at my lady parts.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Too Fat and Back- a glimpse of my journey of acceptance and healing

Hello friends!!!!  It has been way too long.  I have taken a break from my writing to focus on a few things that I was working through.  My mamma always said if you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all.  Sage advice that I have followed these last few months.  I must say I have missed you all so very much.  I cannot let so much time elapse between our chats again.

Warning- this is going to be a very personal blog, maybe the most currently personal I've ever posted.  I would ask that you understand that this is my story, which I have hesitated in writing for the past year and a half.  My counselor told me that when I was ready to share, I should; that this would be healing not only for me but for others out there who have walked a similar path.  This is written not to wound but to heal.  Unfortunately, others have been a part of this journey (for good or ill); I will try my best to protect them but I will no longer be shamed into silence.

A year and half ago I wrote a blog about being fat ( read here http://www.glimpsesofskiff.com/2012/10/a-glimpse-of-being-fat.html).   I thought after that blog that I had exercised my fat demons. I thought I was whole.  I was wrong.
The church I wrote about, we did leave.  The story of why is long and convoluted.  It involved a lot of hurt and brokenness for both my husband and I.  We had loved our church and the people we worshiped with.  We weren't planning on leaving but a circumstance arose that put me in a position where I could either stay silent about something I felt was very wrong or I could address it (with the appropriate people).  I, being the meek and mild mannered person that I am, tried to address it.  My thoughts on the subject were not appreciated, as I was told in no uncertain terms.  In the midst of this, heart wrenching conversation, someone I loved and respected very much, looked at me and said  "The only thing I see when I look at you is your weight".  Of all the things said that night, that crushed my spirit.  I had been fat shamed straight out of God's house and it took me over a year to be able to go back.
The person who said that to me, did me a HUGE favor (I'm not even being sarcastic).  What was said as an off the cuff, hurtful, barb, eventually drove me into counseling.  My whole life I have lived life ashamed of my body, ashamed of who I am on the outside.  I tried every diet imaginable, to no avail.  I prayed, fasted, exercised, tried to starve myself (I make a lousy anorexic, it just wouldn't take), tried to make myself throw up (it seems I have very little in the way of a gag reflex, so I failed at bulimia too), I even tried diet pills.  I berated myself and was berated by others.
The stories of what made me hate myself are numerous.  Once as a young girl, I was wearing a spaghetti strapped shirt as we went out to dinner with friends (a BIG treat in a large family with limited funds).  I was excited and thought I looked pretty cute.  While eating someone looked over at me and told me my arms were too fat.  I shouldn't wear shirts without sleeves. On my eleventh or twelfth birthday'  I was told that I was too fat to have a birthday cake; they were just looking out for me you know.  I was made to weigh myself and record my weight on a chart in our bathroom,every week, an utter humiliation for a teenage girl, already struggling with self image issues.  Grandparents, parents, friends, family and strangers all reminded me that I was a sub-par woman because I weighed too much.  I was even told that I would never get married because though I had a pretty face, I was too fat .  No man would want me; if by chance I was lucky enough that one would, he would be old and fat and just looking for someone to take care of him.
I tell these stories, not to make others look bad, or to make people feel sorry for me.  I tell them simply to give background on why that last comment, made in the bastion of the only place I had ever felt truly accepted (the church) cut so very deeply.
After a few months break, we tried to go back to church but every time we did, all I could think was that I was so fat these new people obviously were judging me and wouldn't really want me in their congregation.
It got so bad that I finally went into counseling.
young me
Let's be honest, there are a lot of things in my life that I needed counseling for.  But the one thing that became very clear was that I was deeply damaged.  I could not accept that others could love me because I felt so unworthy of their love.  My weight had literally become the barometer by which I gauged my acceptability to the world. Over several months, I slowly began to work through my issues.  I came to begin to accept and even embrace the woman God created me to be, no matter what numbers on the scale read.  I began to shop for fashionable clothes and to buy jewelry and make-up for myself.  Before I had always felt guilty if I did those things because I didn't deserve them in my mind.  I always made those things a reward I I lost ten or twenty or thirty pounds, because anything pleasurable or nice was dependent on if the scale said I earned it.   I was depressed because I could never, ever be thin enough to earn all the things I needed (forget wanted, I went for two years with a coat that was basically in tatters because I refused to buy a new one until I lost more weight). I even refused to go to MD's because I was so ashamed of what the scale said.  Once when I was 8 months pregnant with my last son, I had to go for an unscheduled appointment at the OB/GYN (we thought I was going into labor).  My normal doctor wasn't in so I got one of her partners.  He was in the hall reading my chart and looked up at the nurse and said "You seriously want me to check on her and she weighs this?!?"  I was mortified.  He didn't know I had heard him, so I smiled and politely spread my legs; knowing the whole time what he thought of me as he examined me in my most vulnerable of positions.  I haven't been back to the gynecologist since my son was born over nine years ago.  This week I scheduled my first appointment.  This is a huge step in the healing that has happened in me over the past year.
As I have learned to love the woman I am, an amazing thing has happened, I've become stronger and healthier.  I have made changes to my diet, not with the focus of losing weight, but with a focus on my over all health.  As I've made these changes the numbers on the scale have been steadily falling.  The amazing thing is that this fact is so very secondary to me.  Other people are more excited about the weight loss then I am.  To me it is the fact I was able to scale the cliff (okay more of a steep ledge) to go fossil hunting with my boys that is the bigger deal.  The fact I now have energy and creativity to make my home into the home I want my boys to love and treasure is HUGE.  The fact that I now can enjoy the holidays with my family instead of being nearly comatose from the amount of pain I am in from preparing for them, is the most treasured huge deal.
My focus has changed.  I like me, regardless of the scale.  I hope one day others who can only see my weight can come to appreciate the amazing person I am but if not, that's okay.  I am no longer shamed by their prejudice and ignorance.  I am fine with who I am and I really do like the me I see in the mirror.  I look pretty darn cute with my hair done up and my red lipstick on.  I look just as cute in my pj's with wrinkle cream on my face because who I am doesn't change because of what I'm wearing or what I weigh.  Who I am is a child of the most high God and he finds me beautiful.
Me now


Wednesday, October 3, 2012

A Glimpse of Being Fat

Over past few months I have remained silent as a disturbing trend infiltrated the Christian community where I live.  I have stayed silent out of deference to people whom I respected. I have stayed silent out of concern of bruising others feelings. I have stayed silent because I felt like the last person who should speak on this and I have stayed silent out of fear of losing relationships.
Today I was shaken out of my silence.  My husband posted a link to the four minute response Jennifer Livingston, a  news anchor for a local television station in Wisconsin, made to a viewer who sent a demeaning email accusing her of being a bad role model to young women because she is too fat.  Her response was eloquent and well stated.  I encourage you to look her up and watch it.  It is worth the watch.
 Before I go further, let me say I am over weight.  I know this, I do not pretend that it is not an issue.  To be clear before we continue, I am fat and admit that this is a problem that I struggle with every single day.
This is a deeply personal and hurtful battle that I have fought for most of my life.  I am used to being judged immediately by people when they first meet me by my size.  All my years growing up I had family members make snide comments, "helpful" suggestions, and devaluing statements about me and about my weight.  I have had strangers do the same thing without knowing the first thing about me.  I have had my value in eyes of others, and if I am honest, even in my own eyes, change depending on what the scale has said.  When I was thin my value within my family went up immediately.  People were quick to tell me how glad they were that I was no longer hiding my beauty under so much fat.  If my weight increased then everything and anything bad that happened was because I was too fat; from falling down the stairs and nearly losing my babies to the fact my children have autism...all of it was my fault because I was fat.  I am used to being judged not on who I am but on what the scale says.  For years, I allowed this fact to nearly crush me.
The one place where I felt accepted and loved unconditionally was my church.  I knew without a shadow of a doubt that God loved and accepted me no matter what my size, the color of my skin, how well I did on a test or how much money was in my bank account.  I had people in my church who never made me feel out of place or rejected.  My Pastor only ever displayed to me that God loved me unconditionally. In fact, my Pastor only ever displayed that love to anyone and everyone who walked through the doors to our church.  It did not matter if a person came in disabled, or of a different color, or from a different country, if they came in rich or dirt poor, if they smelled or if they were flat out drunk; my Pastor and the people in my church only ever showed them love and respect.    They did not do this because they were perfect or because they had some special gift.  They did this because that is what Christ has called us to do; to love the unlovable, to do unto the least of these.
Is it important to be fit and healthy? Yes.  Is it important to take care of the bodies that God has given us? Absolutely.  Could I do a better job in these areas? For sure.  
Should I feel out of place in Christ's church because I am not there yet? NO!!!  
I have seen a change in the way we relate to others in the church.  Daily I have friends who only know me from a church setting trying to sell me diet products.  They are excited to share this product that has changed their lives with anyone and everyone in their path.  What I don't think they realize is that in their zeal and excitement they are making some people feel that they are unacceptable the way they are.  That even in church and around Christians they cannot be loved or accepted based upon their appearance.  Is there anything wrong with these diet product in and of themselves? No.  Am I upset because others are finding them useful? No, actually I am excited that they are achieving their goals.  However, Christ did not call us to make people thin or fit.  Christ did not call us to transform lives by the sharing of our dietary supplements.  Christ gave us one simple commission.  Christ has called us to go out and make disciples of all men.  The end, that's it.  When our churches and Christian communities stop seeing this as the goal then we are losing sight of what is important.  
Dear friends, I know I probably have offended some of you by this post.  I am very sorry that was not my intention, at all.  However, I felt very strongly that this needed to be said.  If you are one who is in my shoes, who feels unlovable because of the way you look or how you have performed know that you are loved.    Please know that God's love for you is not dependent upon anything you do, on how well you talk, or what you look like.  God's love is not based on anything you can do or be.  God loves you because you are His creation.  God loves you inexplicably and completely.  I will be praying that you will feel His love tonight. -Kristine


Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Top Ten Tips for aspiring Super Mom's

I don't know about you, but when I brought home my first little bundle of joy from the hospital I was determined that I was going to be the worlds best mother.  My child would be the healthiest, the brightest, the fastest, the wittiest.  Actually, I'm almost positive that I caught glimpse of  my child  wearing red cape with Super Baby emblazoned upon the back as he was delivered  (No that is NOT the 20 hours of labor or the Demerol talking.).  Yup that's me, super baby's mom!!  Now where is my preferred parking spot?

Five kids and nearly twelve years later, I have long since relinquished my Super Mom title.  My exalted reign lasted exactly one hour after leaving the hospital.  I clearly remember the moment I unswaddled my little bundle to change his diaper and he turned completely blue.  I checked to make sure he was breathing, ran to the phone and placed a frantic call to our pediatrician.  It turned out my perfect little bundle was born with so little body fat that even on a 90 degree day, with no air conditioning, he had to stay bundled.  My Super Mom reign was over almost before it began.  Things did not improve from there.  By the time I had my second child, 17 months later, I was in a constant state of complete guilt.  Now I was splitting myself between two babies, a husband and the house.  Needless to say, nobody received enough of my attention.  I was overwhelmed by feeling like a complete failure as a mother and wife.  Once the twins came along there was no time for guilt.  I was running so hard just to keep up with four kids, all under the age of 3, that I was just on auto pilot, doing the things that had to be done just to make it through the day.
Today, I felt a bit overwhelmed.   I have a lot going on as I get ready for my trip back home.  As I was rushing around, trying to get everything checked off my to do list, I thought about the time all those years ago when I aspired to be Super Mom.  So tonight, I have made my own top ten list.  My top ten pieces of advice to any aspiring Super Mom's....hey my reign may have been short lived but I still held the title.

Top 10 Tips for aspiring Super Mom
10. Good baby swag does not a super mom make.  You will regret your designer diaper bag the minute your perfect little one has an exploding diaper in his back-up, back-up outfit.  At that point, all you can do is rinse it out in the bathroom and stick it in (you guessed it) your super expensive, designer diaper bag.
9.  Embrace the banana clip, stained t-shirt ( yes every shirt you own will have a stain on it within a few months), and yoga pant look.  I know you swore to your bestie back in the day that you would NEVER be THAT mom (most of us made the same solemn oath).  But you will, so stock up on banana clips before your bundle of perfection arrives.  It will save you from scrounging under the sofa cushions looking for one when you realize you have to run to the store for diapers NOW and you haven't showered in two days (okay lets be honest here, you're actually on your third day without a shower).
8.  Speaking of showers, as Super Mom these are a luxury to be prized above all things....except sleep.  Inferior moms will put their  babies into their cribs for five minutes to grab a slice of heaven (they may even let their baby cry....gasp).  But not you, as Super Mom you are required to either forgo the luxury completely until another, approved adult can hold your angel or you will bring the baby seat into the bathroom with you and leave the shower curtain open enough so that your angel never loses sight of you, in all your Super Mom Perfection.  It's a sacrifice, but being Super Mom isn't for the faint of heart.
7.  Sleep is for the weak!!  You thought you were something when you stayed up 48 hours straight to cram for finals in college. Ha! That's nothing.  Girlfriend, you will never see 8 straight hours of uninterrupted sleep again!  You will do a song and dance when you get three hours of interrupted sleep! Buy good concealer to cover the dark circles on the rare occasions you leave the house.  Super Mom's do not frighten toddlers with their raccoon eyes.
6.  Learn to eat, brush your teeth, brush your hair, talk on the phone and write a message down all with one hand.  This will save you many awkward moments as you adjust to the fact you have lost an arm.  No, they don't chop it off in the hospital after you give birth!  Nope, from now on your cutie patootie will have permanent residence in one arm.  Slings are quite in fashion now, they come in a variety of colorful patterns that cover your stained tee shirts.  If you are planning to go this route contact your friendly, neighborhood sling expert mom.  She will show you more ways to wear that sucker than ways Bubba Gump knows to cook shrimp.
5. All other moms ,who have babies within six months of your little dumpling's age, will feel the need to prove that their child is superior to yours in every way.  Being Super Mom, you know that this is untrue.  This scenario requires great delicacy because you are by now feeling the deep need for understanding, adult conversation.  I suggest that you compliment the other child's progress nicely.  Then as you are leaving your play date (every two month old NEEDS a play date.  This is imperative to proper social development.  REALLY, this is Super MOM 101 stuff.  Refer back to the chapter in your Super Mom manual the covers Baby Einstein, playing classical music in utero and teaching sign language to your little genius)....as I was saying, as you are leaving your play date just casually mention how your three month old now knows how to sign please and thank you.  This will allow the other mother to know who really has the smartest child, while avoiding the momma throw downs that sometimes occur at play dates.
4.  Cloth diapers and making your own baby food are all the rage right now.  However, from one Super Mom to another, your child will not suffer permanent emotional scarring should you choose to go the Pamper  and Gerber route.  You will have a few points deducted from your Super Mom score but the time and energy that you save ,on these things, can be used to teach your child more words in sign language, which will boost your score once more.
3. Amazon is your friend and Amazon Prime is your new BFF.  Every outing, whether to Target ( it is where all the Super Mom's shop), church, or a two week vacation, require almost the same amount of packing, gear and preparation.  To save yourself the hassle, order what you can online!!  Also, the "feels like a cross country move when I run to the store to buy diapers" phase only lasts a few years.  There is light at the end of this tunnel.  Then the "I am your personal chauffeur" phase starts.
2.  On a serious note, you will at times feel isolated and alone.  This is the hardest part of being being a mom of young kids.  This stage passes and you will again have friends and a social life.  In the meantime, have someone watch your special little bugaboo and have a girls night with your old girlfriends once in a while.  It won't be the same but those few hours of laughing will be a lifeline to you in your lonely days.
1.  There is no such thing as a Super Mom!!  That's the big secret that everyone has been keeping from you. We are all struggling, right along side you, trying to do our best and still feeling like we aren't enough.  Give your child grace to make mistakes and room to be a kid, give your friends grace as they struggle to be the best mom they can to their children and most importantly give yourself grace.  You aren't perfect.  Just take it one day at a time, friend.   I'm still taking it day by day.  Lot's of love, Kristine

Monday, April 30, 2012

A Glimpse of Me

For three hours I stared at the screen, listened to music, stared again blankly at the screen.  For three hours I typed, backspaced, typed some more, erased everything and started over.  For three hours I wrestled a massive case of writers block.  Suddenly inspiration struck.  I would consult the ever wise sage "Facebook" for wisdom.  Surely, one of my extremely bright and witty friends would inspire me.  So I posted a plea asking for a suggestion of what topic people would enjoy reading about.  I told myself I would arise to whatever literary challenge that was presented me.....as long as it wasn't about my sex life (hey there are some topics that should never be blogged about..this tops my list;)  A wonderful friend responded that I should blog about myself.  Easy peasy right?!? After all, my blog is always about my thoughts.  But this is where my friend's genius came in (some may claim evil genius....I'll let you decide that for yourself after you have read this blog;).  She stipulated that I should write about what goes on in my head apart from family and autism.  No longer is this the walk in the park I had anticipated.  It is much harder for me to still myself to actually hear my own thoughts.  So everyone fasten your life jackets and hop aboard this boat if you dare. You are about to enter my stream of consciousness and there be rapids ahead;)
I must be honest, this past week I gave myself and the boys a partial week off.  We have switched curriculum and needed a moment to exhale after 8 months of being in a pressure cooker.  I spent some time reading  books, reviewing a couple of others, staring blankly into space and daydreaming.  When I was a girl my daydreams had several plot twist (Yes I dream in full novel form).  In one such plot I was an Olympic  figure skater.  I overcame unspeakable odds to achieve the highest of all accolades in the sport the Olympic gold medal!!  Now, those of you who know me need to pick yourself off the ground and get your uncontrollable laughter under control.  I will assume your untimely outburst is due to the trauma that was inflicted upon you as you watched my two less than successful attempts at even standing on ice skates.   I'm sorry you had to see that. If I could, I would remove your memory of me repeatedly falling and taking out every other skater within ten feet of me.  Needless to say, I am still Olympic gold medal-less.  My foolish daydream never came to fruition.  My daydreams have aged as much as I have and yet they are still as foolish.  When I find myself that spare moment to stare into space and drift into the comforting arms of my imagination the scenes are very different.  No longer am I a figure skater or a judge on the Supreme Court or the female version of Indiana Jones.  No, now my day dreams revolve around waking up and finding my house completely and miraculously cleaned.  Wonderful little sprites come in the still of midnight and scrub, sweep, mop and launder everything in sight.  In this daydream, I awake to birds chirping brightly, a wonderfully cleaned house (I am of course many pounds lighter as well).  My perfectly groomed and well mannered boys knock quietly at my door and offer to make me a gourmet breakfast and to call the cleaning sprites back to re-clean the kitchen. CRASH!!!!  Oh, I'm sorry that was the sound of a lamp crashing and rudely jarring me back to reality;)

I also read several books this week.  The one that sticks with me the most is Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers.  My pastor is doing a wonderful message series on the book of Hosea.  It is a harsh but beautiful love story in the Old Testament.  The story revolves around the prophet Hosea being called by God to marry a prostitute.  His wife strays repeatedly from him and yet he loves her through everything ( even when his love is tough love).  It is a picture of God's love for Israel and by extension His love for us. I mentioned to a good friend that other than in Bible school, I had never heard a message series on the book of Hosea taught in church (mostly because it is a very hard story to preach and the text is full of words like whoredom. Not everyone appreciates hearing about whoredom from the pulpit).  I was so refreshed to see our pastor take up the challenge.  My friend responded that I HAD to read Redeeming Love.  Since it was my semi-off week I took her advice.  My friends, if you have the time READ THIS BOOK!!  It is an amazing fictionalization of the story.  The book of Hosea lends itself well to dramatization.  Like Shakespeare's plays some stories are meant to be seen.  Hosea's story is definitely one of those.  Be prepared this is a harsh book to read and has some very disturbing themes.  This novel made me go to some places in my own life that I thought best forgotten.  However, even in our deepest pain God wants to minister his healing love and mercy.  There is no sin so great and no hurt so deep that God will cease to love us.  His love is deeper, wider and yes tougher than anything we can throw at it.

I also spent a lot of time thinking about friends that are in seriously hard places in their lives.  I have one friend in particular who is hospitalized with a serious illness.  If she comes to your mind please send up a prayer for her.  My heart breaks that I can't rescue all of you who are facing such hard places, whether emotional, physical, financial or a combination of all three.  I am by nature a doer.  Right now, it seems all I can do for you is pray.  And praying I am!!  You, my friends are not alone even when it feels like you are.

I came to several realizations about myself this week as well.  One is that I miss my me time.  I am drained by all that this year has held and I need a break. Another is that I am homesick.  I was driving behind an  Old Dominion freight truck and I nearly broke down into tears.  I am homesick for the Chesapeake, salt air, blue crabs, sand in my shoes (and other unmentionable places), for historical monuments on every corner, and for my family and friends that I have not seen in so long.  I am going home in July for my cousins wedding and it can't get here soon enough.  Lastly, I spent time thinking about where I have come from and where I am now and being overwhelmed with gratitude for God's mercy and grace on me through out the journey.  Over the past few weeks, the members of our home group each shared a bit of their journey (their testimony for those of you who speak Christianese;)  My husband shared his this week.  Seeing our journey, through his eyes, brought things back to my remembrance I had honestly forgotten; struggles and miracles that should never be over looked.  I am beyond overwhelmed by God's mercy and redeeming love.

So that is a large part of my inner thought life for the week.  I hope this gave you the glimpse into my head you wanted.  If not, no worries, I'll get back to family and autism stuff next week;)  Lots of love- Kristine

Sunday, February 26, 2012

A Glimpse of Vulnerability

To be transparent, to be free
To be vulnerable, to be brave
To swallow my own dread and apprehension
To clasp those around me to my true self
To let go of my silent inhibition
To grant you access to my silly self
This is my desire
This is my fear
-Kristine Skiff



There are times when writing this blog is uncomfortable for me. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE sharing my life with you this way. However, being transparent and vulnerable is not always a comfortable thing for me. The fact is that I am actually much more comfortable getting lost in my own little world when things get tough. So much so, that when my friends have not seen a facebook posting from me in 48 hours they begin lighting up my phone with text messages asking what is wrong because they know the only time I'm quiet is when something is going on. If they don't get a satisfactory response they show up at my doorstep to check in on me. First, I have to say I have awesome friends that care enough about me to notice (and believe me I do not take them for granted) but again this places me in the sometimes uncomfortable position of confronting things I would much rather just ignore until I am ready. The past month has been one where I have been forced to face somethings I prefer to ignore, vulnerabilities have been exposed that I thought I had covered in thick armor. I can't say truthfully that I have figured out all the answers. The things I am facing are not simple fix things. There is no pretty princess band-aid that will make these things all better. However, I am learning in a deeper way the importance of friends that speak truth into your life, the importance of being vulnerable enough to share the deepest pains and trials with a select few.
Vulnerability, transparency these things are often scoffed in today's society. Society teaches us only a fool exposes his vulnerability to anyone. Society teaches us our weaknesses are weapons that will be used against us. Society says to obscure our trues selves so that no one has the opportunity to reject us. There is the truth that we should not lay our pearls before swine. We certainly should be wise with who we choose to share our deepest pains and struggles with. Unfortunately for many of us, we choose not to share with anyone at all. Best to be alone than to risk rejection; it's better to keep everyone at arms length where no one can get close enough to hurt us. If you are like me these lessons are hard won. People have used my weaknesses against me. People have broken my trust, people have broken my heart. Even in my forgiveness of others, I have become calloused toward people. If I am going to be completely honest here there are some walls I have no idea how to take down. I am by no means completely arrived on this journey of vulnerability. Indeed, i am taking my own wobbly baby steps. But I know the truth remains that God calls us to a life of transparency and vulnerability, to a life of beautiful brokenness. Some of you read that word brokenness and think of weakness. It is my contention that true brokenness takes incredible strength. To be totally open before God, allowing him to use you in whatever way he chooses, to know that no matter what happens in this life, what hurts you may encounter, that he is able to and WILL take care of you. Yes transparency and vulnerability take great faith. Faith is one of those words some of you will have a hard time reading. Some of you have been wounded by people who use the word faith like a weapon, telling you that if you had enough faith healing would have occurred or money would have arrived or you would have been protected. That isn't faith. That is manipulation. Faith isn't about how much you give or how much you are healed or what car you drive. Faith is a condition of your heart. Faith is having the confidence within your heart of hearts of who God is, of his true character, of his love for you, of his everlasting, unchangeable, always just, always righteous nature. Faith isn't about what you can get out of God or what he can do for you. Faith is about your relationship with an unfathomable God. Faith is about having the confidence to do and be what God has called you to because you know in your knower that God has you in the palm of his hand. And here is where all this comes full circle for me: If I truly have faith in who and what God is I have no choice but to be venerable and transparent to the people He has placed around me.
So this is what God has been working in me personally over the past couple of weeks. I know it isn't funny, or about the family, or about autism but it is about me....the real me that is still learning and growing. Hopefully I din't bore y'all too much but this my heart tonight as I sit and contemplate, in the quiet of the evening. Lots of love-Kristine

Saturday, January 21, 2012

A Glimpse of learning to forgive

This week has been quite hectic in the land of Skiff. I'm not going to go into details but I will say two of our school days I had nine kids. This was actually an awesome experience for us. The four extra I had are wonderful kids and they were a blessing to our family while they were here. Yet in between all hectic craziness of life I have found myself in a contemplative mood. A friend posted on Facebook asking how can you truly forgive if you can't forget. This has been one of those life lessons for me that was difficult. I gave my somewhat shortened answer (y'all know I am never truly short;) However throughout the week I have found myself going back to that conversation and remembering the life experiences that brought about my learning. Then last night I watched Wuthering Heights (the BBC version). For those of you who don't know Wuthering Heights is Emily Bronte's novel of passions gone astray and a true lesson in the perils of unforgiveness. The story is based upon Catherine (known as Cathy) and our anti-hero Heathcliff (the ward her father took in as a child when he was found wandering the streets) and Cathy's brother Hindley. Hindley hates Heathcliff on sight and treats him terrible. However his reign of terror is short lived. He is sent away to boarding school, a common practice of the day, and Cathy and Heathcliff grow up wandering the moors together and are desperately in love by the time they come of age. Then the plot turns nasty. Cathy's father. Heathcliff's protector, dies leaving the estate to Hindley. Hindley strips Heathcliff of everything, sending him to live in the barn and beating him whenever the notion should strike. Heathcliff's hate and rage boil inside of him despite Cathy's pleas for him to forgive and choose love. I am not going to ruin the story for you. I will say if you read it or watch the movie be sure to have plenty of tissues nearby and know that this story does not tie itself into a nice pretty bow at the end. It is well worth the time to read the novel because the depth of the characters can never truly be portrayed upon the screen.
This blog is not my analysis of Wuthering Heights. Far greater minds than mine have done this way better than I will ever be able to. This blog is about forgiveness and the road that God has walked me down to learn the importance of it.
Not unlike our anti-hero/ villain Heathcliff I was once locked in a prison of unforgiveness and bitterness. I didn't know I was in prison, I felt justified wrapping myself tightly in my cloak of unforgiveness. I would say "Burn me once shame on you. Burn me twice shame on me" I felt protected behind these walls that I raised higher and higher with each passing year. I felt invulnerable.....and alone, terribly alone. Because the protective walls not only kept people out they also kept me locked inside, shriveling slowly away, each passing year stealing away more of my heart and compassion and replacing it with a hardened, lonely woman.
Not unlike Heathcliff, I also had genuine reasons for which to hold unforgiveness. As a young child I learned early on that the world was not a safe place, that people in places of trust could and would hurt you, and sometimes the only way to protect yourself was to distance yourself from pain by replacing vulnerability with bitterness and unforgiveness. Throughout my growing years this belief was only confirmed as more people hurt me. Eventually I went through my life looking for people to hurt me, the smallest infraction building upon the walls of bitterness and unforgivenss. Until I was encased in a fortress that no one else but me even knew existed. You see if you were to ask anyone who knew me back then how they would describe me the words bitter and unforgiving would never be on the list. I was a chameleon, able to hide the darkness in my heart from all those around me. Everyone felt so close to me, everyone found me to be the perfect confidante, everyone thought me to be loving and open. Yet no one really knew me. I held everyone off from my true self. To be open was to be vulnerable and I didn't do vulnerability. God, however saw the real me. The truly hurting, bitter, unforgiving, alone me and he in his compassion and mercy did not leave me to rot in the prison of my own design. No God set me free by battering down my prison walls and teaching me that true freedom comes through him.
I have spoken on this blog about my moving to upstate NY for Bible school. I even mentioned that when I moved there it was partly to escape some major hurt that I had experienced back home. I am not going to go into exactly what happened but I will say that the end result was many people who had known me for the majority of my life chose to believe lies and turned their backs on me. I was the subject of much gossip and shunned in many ways. A few friends defended me and stood up for me to their own detriment but for the most part I was abandoned by people I thought loved me. Years later the truth came to light but by then it no longer really mattered, too much time and life had passed under that particular bridge. I moved 500 miles away to a little Bible school, in a small town of upstate NY. This was God's demolition and construction zone in my heart, this is where the chains that bound me began to break, the walls the imprisoned me began to crumble and where the person God intended me to be began to be formed. I spent a month of Sundays on my face at the alter crying as if my heart was broken, because it was. I didn't even know why the tears spilled down my cheeks or where the gut wrenching sobs were coming from much of the time. I remember one of the Deans saw e one Sunday and she gathered me in a huge hug and said "Oh honey there is so much hurt inside of you. Just let God heal it all, cry all you need to cry. Know that you can trust him to carry all this for you. Know that he is rebuilding you." So I cried and sobbed and allowed God to begin a work in my heart that to this day I don't really understand but I do know after that month of Sundays I walked away from that alter with a huge weight lifted off my heart and cracks had started to form in my prison walls. I then met my husband, we've already talked about a lot of what occurred during our dating relationship. However, I did not go into one very important thing God used my husband as.....a battering ram to break open a huge section of the walls that imprisoned me. You see my husband was not swayed by emotion at all and saw right through my well versed chameleon act to the very heart of me. He did not miss that everyone trusted me but I trusted no one because he was not affected one iota by my patting and stroking of feelings (one of the ways I kept people at bay was to be the friend that always had an open door and a shoulder to cry on. I could make anyone feel better. I was the world's den mother;) Instead he analyzed me and saw I did not add up and one thing my husband can't stand is something that doesn't add up. So he was relentless in his pursuit of the true me. This infuriated me, this terrified me, this made me want to trust him and throw him off a very tall building all at once. He was an emotional bully much of the time and later on this would be very detrimental to our relationship, however the flip side of that coin is that there never would have been a relationship if he was not relentless.
Then God brought it all home after we got married. I spent years harboring bitterness and unforgiveness toward my husband, again a lot of it was justifiable. It is truly hard to let go of pain and hurt that we are entitled to. Somehow stroking that bitterness and unforgiveness can make us feel better about ourselves, more righteous, more right. I became harder and harder, a mere shell of the person I had used to be. By now I had already reinforced the walls that had been knocked open only a few years before. I began to dream of vengeance, how could I hurt those who had hurt me so badly. Let me tell you it is a scary place to get to when you realize just how evil your mind can become.
All my life I had heard the sermons on forgiveness and letting go. I had heard about how unforgiveness poisoned you, not the person you held it toward. I never truly believed it. How could unforgiveness hurt me, how could it poison my very soul? Then one morning I was washing dishes in my kitchen, a houseful of babies noisily carrying on and I was lost in my own unforgiving thoughts toward my husband, the reel of all the things he had said or done to me playing over and over again in my head. Suddenly the thought popped into my brain, an almost silent whisper "You're a smart girl. Car accidents happen all the time. Would it be so bizarre if his breaks went out on the way to work?" I dropped the dish I was washing and started to shake. I was terrified by my own malice. Right then and there I prayed, tears streaming down my face. I begged God to forgive me for my unforgiveness. I begged that he would teach me to forgive and forget. Then that still small voice came to me "Forgiveness is a choice. Not an emotion. You have to chose daily to forgive the ones who hurt you most. You have to daily chose not to dwell upon the hurtful things but to think of the good. Forgiveness is NOT forgetting, it is moving forward despite what's happened in the past. It is choosing to let go of your right to the pain. It is giving it to me when you want to clutch it so tightly. Forgiveness is an action, a daily discipline on your part." Let me tell you the next few years were hard, hard years for me. My husband will tell you he would hear me say aloud more than once "I have forgiven this. I chose to forgive, I will not dwell on it anymore." This is where the tires of my "faith" met the road of self discipline and capturing my every thought. This is the hard walking out stuff, not the touchy feely stuff we like to talk about as Christians.
I learned in this walk that there were people that I could forgive and not let back into my life. Being wise is not the same as holding unforgiveness. Some of the people of my past could still pose a danger to those I loved. I chose to forgive what they had done and walk in that freedom. I no longer tense when their name is said, I no longer wish them harm. However, the Bible also says to gentle as a dove and as wise as a serpent. Wisdom dictates that they cannot be a part of my life.
So dear friends this is the journey that I have been pondering this week. A hard journey but one that has set me free to enjoy the relationships God has placed in my life. I still have to make a conscious choice to forgive sometimes but it is so worth it. I pray each of you has been forgiven and has found forgiveness for others in your hearts. If this is a journey that is still a struggle for you please know I will be praying for you. If you need a friend to hear your struggle I am here. You can private email me at kristine.skiff@gmail.com. I love each and everyone of you. Thank you for walking my journey with me. Lots of love, Kristine

Monday, November 21, 2011

The Beauty of Loneliness

The world around me is noisy and full, nearly bursting at the seams with its commotion
Yet I am alone
My kids chatter away, my husband tells of his day, my cats' meow their discontent
Yet I am alone
My social calendar is scheduled, my days packed with essentials
Yet I am alone
 
I have learned there is a beauty in loneliness.  It is in the quiet stillness of loneliness that I have time to sift through my thoughts and ever changing emotions.  In the midst of loneliness I am grounded, I am anchored.  Sometimes it takes the quiet ache of loneliness for me to discover the hidden truths, those pearls hidden for the earnest seekers of truth.  Lonely seasons, seasons of reflection, seasons of growth.  It is in these times that serious heart work is done.  It is so easy to distract myself with everything and everyone else around me.  Loneliness is the mirror in which only I am reflected back at myself.  It shows the imperfections of my nature that I mask so often in front of others; pride or envy, anger or apathy, love or hate are all inescapably reflected. 
It is in loneliness that I come to understand the truth that I am NEVER alone.  The One who placed the stars in the sky, the One who knows the beginning from the end, the One who sacrificed Himself to bring salvation to the world, yes He who knows the number of hairs upon my head, He awaits me in the place of loneliness.  How often I have missed Him by refusing the beauty of loneliness?

Dear friends I have been reflective this past week.  It has been in my reflections that this piece was born.  I am blessed to have so many beautiful friends who are there for me in any circumstance.  I know you are there:)  I firmly believe in the importance of having a good, trust-worthy support system.  I do not for a minute want anyone to think that I am now going to become a recluse.....I enjoy people way too much for that.  This is just the other-side of the coin of loneliness.  A perspective that I hope will encourage any one of you my firends who may be walking down the path of loneliness right now.  If you are in that place please know that I love you and am here.  Lots of love-Kristine

Sunday, October 16, 2011

A Glimpse of Margin


Unlike many in my family, I am not a great poker player.  I had moved out of the house before the big poker tournaments began.  However, one thing is consistent when I play.  I am an all or nothing kind of player.  I will either fold at the beginning or I almost always I am going to play the hand out.  This works well for me sometimes.  When the cards are running my way or the other players are playing as poorly as me this strategy can indeed be quite effective.    But if one little thing goes wrong….if the cards aren’t so favorable or a new player joins the game: I am sunk.  For this reason I don’t play poker;) However I live my life the same way I play poker.   I am either all in or I’m not in at all.    This style of life pursuits has its advantages.  If I commit to you that I am going to do something, you can bet your bottom dollar I will do everything in my power to do it.  If I am your friend, you know I will be loyal to you through thick and thin.  If I believe in something fervently, then watch out world! I’m coming for you!   In fact once I get going on something I leave myself no margin, whether it’s money, time or energy if I’m all in then I am ALL in.    It is this that God has been working on in me this week.


This week was a rough week.  We started the school week WAY behind in our lessons, hubby worked late almost every night, one of my little guys was sicker than sick for two full days and physically I was at one of the lowest points I have been at in a long time.  In fact I spent an entire day unable to get off the sofa.  My body hurt everywhere and I was completely exhausted, not tired but so exhausted that just standing up for a few minutes meant I had to sleep for at least an hour.  I don’t often talk about these times because quite honestly I find them annoying and embarrassing.  I hate having weaknesses and I hate even more allowing others to see them.  My house was/ is trashed (we’re slowly getting it back together) and I was at my wits end.

Thursday came around and started out well compared to the rest of the week.  I was feeling better so I set to work.  I cleaned, made challah for sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles), taught the kids school (caught up on a lot), made a special dinner for Sukkot , and was getting ready for our home group when I just completely crashed.  My husband looked at me and asked what was wrong.  I burst into tears and told him to take the kids out of the house for a drive because I NEEDED a few moments to myself.  I just sat in a quiet, empty house and cried.  I was used up, done; I had nothing left to give.  I took a long, hot shower and cried some more.  I turned on an old movie on TCM and cried again (yeah I know weakness again…I hate that).  My hubby got home; we put the boys to bed and watched some TV.  He looked over at me and said “You know honey you never leave yourself any margin in any area of your life.  You jump in with both feet and run until there is nothing left to give.”  Right then in there I felt that convicting tug of the Holy Spirit. 

Friday was another crazy busy day.  I had my Rheumatologist appointment in Dallas.   Dallas is really not very far from our house (around 40 miles or so) but the drive can be long simply because of traffic.  Once the doctor saw me he placed me on more medications, medications I have been fighting going on simply because I hate weakness (I know a theme right?).  He looked at me and said without an inflection of any kind in his voice “You are going to go on this medication because you need to give yourself a break.  You need to sleep and there is no reason for you to be in this kind of pain.”  Again I felt the Holy Spirit gently speaking to my heart, give yourself a break, and leave yourself some margin in your life.

On the way home from the doctors a car lost control and nearly hit me.  He spun across four lanes of traffic, coming so close to me that if my window was down I could have reached out and touched him.  I always leave a lot of room between me and the other vehicles on the road.  You drive 95 or 495 enough times around northern VA or DC you figure this out pretty quickly.  Again I felt that still small voice:  When you leave margin you can better deal with the crises that arise.

So this weekend I gave myself permission to leave margin.  My plan had been to rush around cleaning like a mad woman, catch up on more school work and have a generally stressful weekend.  Instead I enjoyed a wonderful Saturday with my boys.  They got haircuts, we ate out and when we were home we chilled out.  Today I had wonderful morning at church, a leisurely lunch with my family and friends and then went to get my hair styled.   I gave myself margin, I started my medicines and gave my body a break and I am in a much better place as I start this school week.

I don’t know if any of you, my friends, are living a life without margin.  I don’t know if you cram your page of life so full of stuff that you’re writing up the sides (Like me).  If you are living full speed ahead I would encourage you to take a moment to breathe, to reassess where you can give yourself a break, to leave a little margin.  I know I will need to be reminded of this many times in the future.  We can walk this road together.  Lots of love-Kristine

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

10 Promises to Other Mothers


I awoke bright and early this morning, rushed two of my beautiful boys through their morning routine and onto the bus and then sat down at the computer for a few quiet moments of Facebook before my other three boys woke up.  Facebook is my vice, I admit it freely.  I love staying in contact, daily in some cases, with friends and family I would never speak with otherwise.  Facebook does have its drawbacks though.  One of them is that people, including me at times, are often too free with their opinions on how others should live their lives.  After reading one such post I have decided to compile my list of 10 things that I promise to every other mom out there.

1.      I will never tell my horrific labor and delivery stories to a new, expecting mom.  I will wait until after she has delivered and wants to share her own.  Then it’s no holds barred if she asks ;)



2.      I will NEVER lay a guilt trip on any mother about breastfeeding, cloth diapering, natural child birth, making her own organic baby food, or when her child sleeps through the night.  There are plenty of ways a mother will pile guilt on herself throughout the next 21 years.  She really does not need me to add to her pile of guilt.





3.      I will never just pop in unannounced on a new mother or a mother of small children.  This is cruel and unusual.  I will also respect that if a mom only opens her door 2 inches and speaks through the crack that there is probably a very good reason.  I will not try to glimpse her house, her hair or her attire.  We all have those days.



4.      I will not judge the mom at Wal-Mart or the mall whose child is screaming bloody murder.  I understand that I am not in possession of all the facts and that this one moment in time is not a reflection on her parenting abilities.  Again we all have those days.





5.      I will not judge a mother on working outside the home or putting her child in day care.  This is one of those family decisions that I have no right to an opinion on.  Having been both a working mom and a stay at home mom I know each has its own challenges.



6.      I will not judge a mother on her choice of schooling for her children.  I will not push any particular schooling method on her.  I have done both public school and homeschooling (I would love to do private school but it has not been an option) again each has its advantages and disadvantages.  This is another family decision that is not my business unless asked to share my experiences.



7.      I will not judge a mother on her choice of whether to medicate or not medicate her child.  God has given her the wisdom for her child, not me.  My opinions are only opinions and will only be shared if I am asked for them.



8.      I will not judge a mother if her child gets dirty while playing.  Seriously people the cool thing about kids is that God made them washable.



9.      I will not judge another based upon her size. Some moms have 15 children still wear the same size jeans that they did in high school.  While I find this very unfair and annoying I know that God loves them just as much as he loves those of us who have increased the size of our laps;)  I will not tell anyone woman what they should or should not weigh. 



10.  I will never, ever tell another mom that she is not good enough and I will always endeavor to view my fellow moms through the lens of grace that I so need to be viewed through.
There it is ladies; my pledges to you.  Lots of love-Kristine

Saturday, July 23, 2011

A Glimpse of a night long ago

I had planned to make this a collection of funny anecdotal stories from the summer thus far.   I will still write that blog, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week.    Tonight I don’t feel like laughing anymore.  Tonight I am so very sad.  I read the news of Amy Winehouse’s death on Facebook.  I am not a particular fan of Amy Winehouse’s music.  I probably could only name one of her songs.  I like much of the world’s population, caught glimpses of her on the covers of the tabloids in the grocery store checkout line.   I can claim no personal or professional relationship.  In fact my life is not directly affected by this in any real way.  Yet I feel a deep, sad connection to her story.  This blog comes from one of the darkest nights of my life.  This blog is about the night I tried to take my own life.
It was a bad day.  If I was to rate bad days on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being mildly annoying and 10 being horrendously, world endingly terrible) I would rate this one an average 5 or 6.  I had had worse days in my 15 years. I had had better but somehow this night I just could not stomach another average 5 bad day.  Somehow this night when I looked at my life I saw a never ending line of fives, sixes, sevens, and eights marching in front of me.   I looked at the hopeless, never-ending marching parade and I went to the medicine cabinet.  I took anything I could find in it, my parents didn’t do the whole “drugs” thing so there wasn’t a lot to choose from.  What was there I took it all, including the entire unopened 100 count extra strength Tylenol, a bottle of peroxide and whatever else shoved in there.  I was so done. I was so over all the pain.  I didn’t want help, I didn’t want advice, and I didn’t write a suicide note.  I just wanted out. I just wanted oblivion.  I just wanted not to hurt anymore.  I spent a miserable 14 hours on the bathroom floor retching.  My mother came to the door once and asked if I had taken anything to make myself sick.  I told her “No. I only have a stomach bug.  I’ll be fine. Go on to bed.”   She did.  I don’t blame her for this.  My mother and I did not have the traditional mother daughter relationship…but I’m getting ahead of myself.   I lay on the bathroom floor, in my own vomit (I didn’t even have the strength to make it to the toilet anymore) and I felt the presence of God in a way I can’t describe.  I had a relationship with God.  I had felt his presence many times but that night it was different.  “Do you want to die?”  The question screamed in my head.  “YES!!!” I screamed back.  Fifteen minutes and much retching later the question came again “Do you want to die?” “Yes.”  Another ten or fifteen minutes went by.  Time is relative when you’re lying in a pool of your own vomit.  “Do you want to die?” “What to do you want from me?!?  LEAVE ME ALONE!”  “But do you want to die?” the question came again.  “Yes…no….I don’t know” That was it.  I had survived the night.  I got my mess and I cleaned up and spent the day burying myself in books.  We didn’t have a TV so this was as close as I came to vegging out.  Every time I stopped reading the same question pounded in my head…..Did I want to die?  I continued to ignore this in every way I could; putting off the inevitable confrontation with my choices.  I am a master procrastinator so I was able to escape myself most of the day.  Finally there was no putting it off any longer.  “Do you want to die?” I stopped and thought a long time.  “No I don’t want to die.  I just want the pain to go away.  I don’t want to feel this anymore.”   Never again after that day did I even think about killing myself.  I realized something very basic in that moment.  I truly did not want to die.  I needed to heal.  This is not the end of my story.  My parents did not know about my suicide attempt but they did know something was very wrong.  They sent me to live with my Grandparents for a while.  It was the best thing they could have done.  I needed the solitude, the quiet and honestly the pampering that they gave me during that time.   My grandparents didn’t know what had happened, to this day they probably don’t.  But they gave me a deeply needed respite.  For a few months I was able to just be.
I don’t know what happened to Amy Winehouse.  I don’t know if she took her own life or not.  I am very sorry for the loss of the people who loved her most.  No one can fill the whole that someone leaves when they go.  I don’t share my story lightly.   Some of the wounds and pains that needed healing in me took years and much counseling.  I share this only because maybe, just maybe my story will make someone reconsider an irreversible mistake.  If I had died that night I never would have experienced the greatest moments of my life.  The moments I could not see while I was in that dark, dark place: a wonderful summer when I was 17 and I made lifelong friends while living at the beach and working in a mission, going away to college, falling in love with my husband, getting married, having my five beautiful baby boys, learning and loving all the differences God has given each of them, moving to TX and meeting many more beautiful friends, so many, many good things that I cannot even begin to list them all.  My life has been so very full of wonderful, awesome things.  My life has had some hard roads and painful loss but in walking these hard places I never once thought about ending my life.  Instead I cling to life in the good, the bad and all the in between.  Life is so very precious.  Thank you God for your grace.

Friday, July 15, 2011

A Glimpse of the harsher truths

I was so excited.  We were going out to eat, at an actual restaurant….the sit down kind, for the first time in at least a year.  I had all seven us looking our shiny best as we walked into the restaurant.  This was going to be fantastic!!!!  About 15 minutes into the meal one of the boys began to wail.  I tried giving him a cracker but he was not to be distracted.  I leaned over to my hubby and told him I would take this one outside to the van and he could stay in and eat with the other boys.  I promptly picked up the screaming child and exited the eatery.  To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.  I was so looking forward to a nice meal that someone else cooked and cleaned up after.  With all of our kids being so young (they were 5, 4, 3, 3 and not quite 1) this was a rare occasion.  My husband was disgruntled when he returned to the van.  “Why’d you just leave like that?”  “Because all the other people in there did not pay good money to hear our baby’s cry throughout their entire meal.  It’s called being a responsible parent.”
It’s time to grab your life jackets friends and batten down the hatches.  I’m about to steer this blog into troubled waters.  Ok is everyone buckled up and holding tightly to the railing?  Here we go------o…….
My last blog was about one of the biggest lessons I have learned as a parent, learning to let go of my need of others acceptance and approval and just doing the right thing for my child.  Today I am going to tackle the opposite side of that coin. I call it considerate, responsible parenting.    I did not want people to get the wrong idea when they read my last blog.   Whenever possible I try to be considerate to the other people who surround me.  There are the rare occasions, such as the Wal-Mart story of my last blog, where a public meltdown is unavoidable.  I was dealing with a deeper heart issue, my NEED to have others approval and acceptance above and beyond what was right for my child.  That in no way negates the need for considerate, responsible parenting. 
I have had to say no more often than I have said yes as a parent, even when it has broken my heart.  This past school year my kids got strep on the week three of them had their ONLY field trip of the year.  All year the teachers had been pumping them up for this day.  They were on antibiotics for 24 hrs but I knew they would still be contagious to the other children so I kept them home.  It broke my heart because they were looking forward to this day ALL year. There were tears, lots of tears, that made me feel like the lowest of the low creatures alive….somewhere below pond scum on the charts.  However, I knew it was the right decision to make as a considerate parent.
I have spoken of some of the lowest points for me personally and some of the heights.  I am by no means a perfect standard to judge by.  I have messed up frequently and will make many more mistakes in the future.  Not because I desire to but because I am not perfect in any way.   That being said, many women come to me with questions and looking for advice.  I guess they figure that if you have enough kids you’re bound to learn something along the way or maybe they figure with this many kids I have probably made every mistake there is and they can learn by avoiding my example.  Either way I field a lot of questions.  “What do I do?!? Johnny pushed a popcorn kernel up his nose.”    “Why won’t Katie potty train?”  “What Dr do you use?” etc, etc...You get the point.  Many of these questions have simple answers. “Have Johnny blow his nose as hard as he can.  If that doesn’t work go to the pediatrician.”    “I’m not an expert but I would say it’s probably because she’s not even a year old yet.  I hate to tell you but you have a lot more diapers in your future.”  “Pediatrician or Developmental Pediatrician?”    Unfortunately some of the advice I have to give is not so popular.   These lessons are the ones that were hardest won for me.  My last blog I addressed one of those issues.  Today I’m addressing another.  Being a responsible, considerate parent often means being selfless.  Parenting is the hardest job you will ever do.  It will take everything you have and then it will demand more.  At that point you will change, you will grow.  You will give up who you are to become who you are meant to be.  I know this goes against all that pop culture will teach you. Today you are taught that you DESERVE to have things your way and that you NEED to hold onto yourself above all else.  Unfortunately the ones who pay the price for our self-indulgence are our children.  Then we wonder why our children grow up to be self-absorbed and selfish.   The answer is simple: They learned by our example.    This sounds very harsh and I am sure will not make me many friends.  But that does not change the truth.  Sometimes you won’t get to have the dinner you have been looking forward to, sometimes your kids will cry because life isn’t fair and they missed their field trip, sometimes you will have to be judged by others because you choose to do what is right.  Sometimes you will have to be unpopular (I could give a class on this one;)
Now for the good news: Being a parent is the most AMAZING ride you will have in life.  It’s way better than the biggest roller coaster or the tastiest chocolate.  Every sacrifice you make will be small in comparison to privilege of bringing a little life into the world and guiding that life into adulthood.  There is NOTHING better.  Friends before I sign off I have to say I am blessed to be a part of your lives.  Lots of hugs-Kristine

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