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As big as a butterfly

When I was younger there was a moment in my life where I was completely wowed by butterflies. After some horrible choices in life there was this period in time where everywhere you looked there were white butterflies... hundreds of them. And with the circumstances of where I was at in my life, right then those butterflies represented rebirth and cleanliness.

For years I have been charmed by butterflies. I will stop whatever I am doing to watch them. I will bring a chrysalis inside to be able to watch the butterfly emerge. I download pictures of them to be my background on my laptop.

And I have always thought of butterflies as perfect. Maybe because they get to spend all day flitting around in the flowers, maybe because they get to be so beautiful. As a woman I don't see myself as a butterfly. I am too fat, to pimple-y, too imperfect. And then I noticed something.

Go back and look at that picture of that beautiful butterfly again. Really look at it. Do you see the damaged wing? This one butterfly has two huge spots that make it flawed. And maybe in the butterfly world it is the geek or the fat chick. But when I saw the picture of it, I saw a beautiful creature that put a smile on my face. And I realized, we are what we perceive ourselves to be.

Why do we label ourselves by our flaws? We place so much value in those imperfections and we want other people to point those flaws out too. So go ahead and really look at yourself. If you didn't describe yourself in those negative ways, do you think someone else would point them out to you? Be beautiful. Those butterflies are so beautiful and yet they are flawed. I bet you'll find there is more butterfly in you than you imagined!

What doesn't kill us...

Things I have rediscovered in my food choices since becoming a little less financially independent include such gems as Bologna Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, Bean Burritos and Hot Dogs.

If I don't have a heart attack from the fat content, it's a safe guess that Mr. Sodium is waiting in the wings with a stroke.

Date Night... say WHAT?!?!

Yesterday I watched two movies... Date Night and Our Family Wedding. I was struck by one theme that ran throughout both of those and it was how women become wives and mothers and they give up their idenity as the person they were and become ONLY wives and mothers. I've been struggling for some time with a feeling of being lost. I don't pursue anything I am interested in. I go to work and am "working" mommy. Then I come home and I AM mommy. On my days off I am "clean my house and run errands" mommy.

I feel guilty if I sit down to read a book or watch a movie because that is time that I carve out to be selfish. I have a small "guilty" pleasure in life of getting a pedicure... a pleasure that gets shelved everytime I see something in the store that Toby would like or whenever he needs something. Maybe it's because I spend so much time dirt broke that I am really feeling down.

I love being a mom. I love taking Toby to places to show him things like the aquarium or the zoo. But I also miss that woman who would go to see a ballet or who could go lay on the beach all day and while away the hours reading and wading. But mostly I miss people genuinely wanting to talk to ME!

I spend 10 hours a day talking to people on the phone. They call and get someone to talk to. I make the most of it because you gotta do it anyway, might as well have a laugh or two. But when that person on the other end of the phone says "how you doing?" and you start to answer with the normal pleasantries, well, you know they don't really give a damn... and most times don't even let you answer.

When my 10 hours are up, then I spend the next couple of hours talking about Toby. What did he do at school. What is he going to eat for dinner. What jammies shall we wear or what smell can we put in the bathtub. And then he goes to bed. And every one of of those conversations if there is a hint of "me" in it, it vanishes as soon as there is a demand from Toby or a story about Toby.

At 8 each evening, mommy me is over. And I sit on my couch and have virtual conversations with people who I work with, who I used to be friends with. And no one ever asks me how I am. No one gives back any sort of emotional connection. Any and every conversation I have with anyone either revolves around why they pay so much every month or something about Toby.

And I know it may be selfish and I know I may sound like a whiny brat. But just once in a while I want to be able to go out to lunch with a friend or go buy a shirt just for the hell of it. Or have someone ask me how I was doing without cutting me off or telling me how THEY are doing. I want to be able to sort through the laundry of my life and be able to see my own identity, to try my own things. To be able to be a mommy but to also have someone care about me outside of that identity. And to not feel so damn guilty if I do something for me once in a while.

It ain't Musak baby!

I have a friend who recently wrote in her blog about her life's sountrack and it got me thinking and I've kind of been stuck on it for a few days. Thank Carrie!

I look at my life and I can look back into the past and hear all of the songs. Not all of them are pretty and not all of them are real music. There was Petra and David Meece, Keith Green and Psalty. Then there were the sounds of mangos plopping onto the patio in our backyard, Micah barking and the gate latching closed. I hear the ice cream truck and the school bus, the lid to the record player and the click of the cassette deck. As I got older there was the sound of the tennis ball smacking up against the outside of the house, country music and Garth Brooks... and my mom making fun of me and coming into my room singing "yeeeee hawwww". There was the sounds of dishes being washed, my dad watching TV and David playing the piano.

I think of sounds and songs more than I think of the past itself. The sounds connect me to that place, that moment in time. I hear ocean waves and I am sitting on the beach after crossing the bridge, feeling peace and serenity as whatever that day's challenges were wash away with the crashing waves and the rolling tide. When people ask me if I remember this and such I usually would say no, but if you asked me if I remember the sound of the oven opening as my dad pulled out the Thanksgiving turkey, well, then I can see the table all set with the "fancy dishes" and my grandma sitting there waiting for dinner.

When I play the music of my older years, mostly I hear Mike screaming, the pounding of drums. I hear angry music and the clinking of beer bottles. To this day when I hear someone pop the top to a soda, I am transported back to that moment, and I can see the anger that alcohol brought. I hear the sounds of my body being damaged and the words that crushed my soul.

Then the soundtrack starts over. And I hear lullabies. I hear the first giggles of my baby. The cough that the endless runny nose brought on. I hear "Mommy, watch me!!", "No mommy, like this!", "Mommy, can you help me build?". And I know that this soundtrack, this moment of life is the one that tunes out all of those other moments. Sometimes there is crying and screaming and doors slamming, but 20 years down the road when my child is moving on with his life, those sounds will be what I hear.

I wonder what the years will bring. Will I hear marching bands or referees blowing whistles? Will my child be a superstar or a supernerd? All I know is the music makes the memories for me. And I can't wait to hear the next part of the symphony!

My WTH moment

Okay, there is precious little in life anymore that really takes us by surprise. But I have to say as I was scrolling through my addiction of Etsy and stumbled across a very unique pillow, well, all it left me with was a WTH moment. I am not mocking these people's artistic talents but allow me to list some of the following items that I was linked to (first comes the pillow though) and the actual descriptions the people who are selling these fine wares came up with:

1. Utera maxima - Worried that your uterus is too small? Wow them the next time you go to the gynecologist, be the envy of your peers. Why is this Spanish woman so happy? Just look at the size of her uterus! Order now and see instant results!!!


2. Super Period Fun Time Pinata - Because every now and again you have a period that deserves a freaking fiesta. Don't believe me?? Examples for your consideration: You just had your first period! Your period was mysteriously missing for a while but now she's back! You made it through your first period after some hardcore Uterine surgery! Your uterus is herself again after a pregnancy! (said pinata is filled with Bliss dark chocolate, Hershey's kisses and TAMPONS!)


3. Uterus love earrings - think hot pink, dangling uterus hanging from your earlobes. Enough said!


4. Dorothy, Blanche and Rose - Uterus and ovaries pillow - gotta love the catchy logo - nothing says from "U" to "US" like a uterus!

And my personal favorite....

Childbirth teaching models uterus placenta cord baby breast set: And I think the picture above MORE than speaks for this one.

Now the whole time I am seeing these items I am giggling like a 11 year old boy seeing a dirty picture for the first time. I've been married. I have a child. But the thought of a grown ass woman buying herself a giant uterus pillow to cuddle with is just too much for me. If I was ever at my "secret, private No No" doctor's office and someone came at me with uterus earrings... well, I'd probably be a wuss and just sit there but I swear I'd be envisioning myself bare assing it out into the parking lot.

I know we all gotta make a living but this just doesn't seem like the way to me. Knitting a uterus and fake boobies? And for the folks selling both the huge 3 foot uterus pillow and the giant pinata: where do you store these things?

I double dog dare you to go to Etsy.com, think of the most outlandish thing you can think of to search for, and come back here and tell me what freakish bizarre things you found.

El gato

I've been musing upon things that I see in my house. My latest thoughts are on my cats. This may be incredibly boring to the 2 of you who actually check in to see if I have any new thoughts but this is my blog so suck it up.

I have three cats: Countess, Domino and Ninja. These three are as different as three children could be but each one also represents some aspect of my life, the point where they entered my world.

Countess is my baby girl. She has been with me since she was 6 months old and I was freshly turned 21. She filled a spot in my life when I was reeling from bad choices, a horrific breakup and was feeling suicidal. I knew I needed something to come into my world that was settling/calming and so I got a cat. Well, she technically was a replacement cat. The first cat I adopted was a freak who hid under the bed and never came out. Literally never. Returned that nutcase and saw this adorable little kitten. She seemed so sweet and I took her home and named her Countess. This little miss priss gave me a serious run for my money. She looked like a diva from the front but when she walked away, she had this swagger in her step that reminded me of a linebacker. She used to sit in top of the fridge and jump off onto my head. She would climb the window screen in the middle of the night, a repeat action that resulted in being declawed. She has been with me for over 13 years, multiple moves, several cities. She let me squeeze her when my daddy died. She was the only animal in my house that Mike never hurt, I think he knew he'd "disappear" if he ever hurt her. She is the queen of my house and represents so many happy, sad and bittersweet moments in my life.

Then along came Domino. She is fat (we're talking a waddle that swings when she runs), has a wonky eye, lost her mother as a newborn kitten and her nose runs whenever you pet her. We originally took her in when Toby was a few months old. Something insane about Countess needing a friend. First of all, Countess does NOT need friends. Secondly, if she were to pick a friend, it would not be this simple minded animal! To Domino's credit, she ADORES Toby. She lets him lay on top of her, every morning when I open his door, she is the first one to jump on his bed. After Mike and I split, I renamed her Domino. She has these spots on her chest and her nose and they remind me of a domino. Everytime I look at her I sing the chorus from the Van Morrison song.

As I start worrying about Countess' age and the thought that she might leave me soon, I decided it was time to bring in a younger cat to carry on the cycle. Soooo, along came Ninja. Big Mistake! This cat is worse than the worst puppy you will ever encounter. He eats shoes. He steals toys. He fights with the other cats and climbs the curtains. He's actually a younger version of the hell Countess put me through but without the 13 years of forgetting the behavior. He is sweet and loving and stupid and destructive. Most of all, he adores me.

Every one of these animals represents a period in my life, a moment that for better or worse that I cherish because it helped shape me into the person I am today. I look at these cats and I think of 13 years down the road when my son will be a teenager. How many people and animals will have come in and out of our lives in that length of time? Where will we be living? What kind of man will he be growing into? Funny how you can look at a cat and see your past and that it can make you ponder your future!