Honoring My Momma On My Birthday

My Momma. Yes I'm a Mama's girl and that's because she gave me a wonderful childhood, supported everything I did, loved me unconditionally, taught me how to cook, taught me what being Super Woman looks like and to this day is my biggest fan. She picked me up off the floor when I couldn't fathom getting up. She moved in when an injury rendered me bedridden and depressed. She loves my kids like they're her own and is my sounding board for raising them. Being my birthday I had to honor the woman who gave birth to me (that's a funny story that involved my Dad passing out) and let her know how much I appreciate her. @geegah_ #honorthymother #mybiggestfan #3generations

A View From a Zen Parent

My good friend recently posted this very introspective 

look at his parenting in the midst of chaos. 

It's nothing short of brilliant. Enjoy!

New Directions: Coming Out of a Marriage

Agent Zoey is going in a new direction. While still chronicalling my life with my children I will now be writing about my experience with divorce and narcissistic ex's. My marriage was very good at times and very bad at times. There was emotional abuse, physical abuse and cheating. Here is a brief overview before I delve into specifics (if I can remember them).


During my 20 year marriage my ex cut me off from several of my good friends by picking arguments with them. I was too embarrassed to try to fix the friendships telling myself he must know better than me. I endured scary rages including ones directed at me for having depression and not getting myself out of it. He threw our oldest around because he was a difficult child (diagnosed with anxiety and Asperger's) and one time threw his coffee on our son. These were red flags I ignored. I was embarrassed to take him to get togethers with my friends because he would sit off to the side and pout. I then avoided these situations because I couldn't have one more person ask what was wrong with him and try to make up an explanation. He complained about my siblings. Judging them harshly and I blindly followed as he subtly made negative comments and judgements about them which resulted in my losing my relationships with them.
When he had what he said was an emotional affair with one of my best friends he told me via email. When I tried to get him to go to counseling he said there's nothing the therapist could say that he didn't already know. When I tried to talk to him about it for my healing he refused saying its in the past - get over it. He said he had no interest rehashing the past. My inability to process the affair led to depression which just made him more mad. The anger outbursts got worse, the yelling got louder, the words more hurtful and I felt worthless. The threats of divorce started to become very frequent with apologies in between leading me to feel like I was in a game of Russian roulette. I never knew when the scary side of him would emerge. I was in a constant state of fight or flight.
There were other incidents where I suspected he was cheating but when I tried to talk to him about it he got extremely angry and shut me down. I later found out I was right about the cheating.
Fast forward to 2013. He came home one November afternoon and handed me divorce papers. No explanation. No talking it through. I found out he had started dating someone a month prior. When I found out about the cheating I slapped him. One Friday afternoon I open the front door to a processor who told me I had 20 minutes to pack up and get out of the house or I'd be arrested. My ex had taken a restraining order against me and taken custody of our daughter. When I finally stopped sobbing enough to read the order it said I had sucker punched him, was suicidal and was sending him threatening texts. ALL LIES!
I was only allowed supervised visits with my daughter two times a week.
My son was an adult and he would come visit me every day.
Fast forward to the restraining order hearing. My ex testified first. He spouted the same lies but couldn't prove any of them. No threatening texts to show. He tried to submit pictures of a bleeding lip claiming he was bleeding profusely through his nose. My lawyer countered that claim and proved he was lying. When asked about my being suicidal he told a story from 3 years ago when I had a neck injury and I told him I wanted to run my car into a brick wall so I could be in the hospital and not have to take care of my responsibilities (I was the bread winner and sole caretaker of the kids). My therapist was there ready to testify that I had never been suicidal, even in my darkest depression. But she didn't have to testify. After my ex was done testifying the judge said there was no proof to his claims and that any appeals court would jump down her throat if she granted his order. She also awarded me attorney's fees which a friend in the courthouse said she NEVER does.
I went home (we were still living together) and he was visibly angry. He told me I had to stay in my room unless the kids were in the kitchen/living room.
Fast forward to the day I moved out. My ex cried and said it was the saddest day of his life.
More to come...

They're Gifted Therefore They'll Survive and Other Myths

As we're wrapping up the first trimester of school and looking toward the second trimester, my hopes are that with a 504 in place and an IEP assessment scheduled, we will see more differentiation and appropriate curriculum for Logue.

Logue was diagnosed as profoundly gifted at age 8. Recently he has been diagnosed as having Asperger traits, Selective Mustism and Social Phobia. It's taken us approx. eight years and five psychologists to come to the right diagnoses. From the stories I've heard, our journey to getting special accommodations was not that bad. It's taken a year and a half and I'm only semi-psychotic about 20 days out of the month. It's pretty common when you claim your child is gifted that the reaction will be along the lines of, "Oh well, he'll do just fine - we teach to all levels in our classrooms." And if you're not very versed in the vocation of advocating through the 504, IEP systems, differentiated and compacting curriculum and what you need to do and who you need to do it to in order to get what you need for your child....it can be the highway to hell the long and winding road.

During the last school meeting, I was challenged by questions from a couple of the teachers. "Can he manage feeling different if his class is doing an assignment and he is not?" Or, "This is a unique way of being in school, can he handle the confusing complexity he is likely to feel when his peers are doing something in class that he isn't?" These examples are by no means verbatim as they were presented to me in even more of a rhetorical fashion (yeah, yo no comprende either).

Now, I say they "challenged" me with these questions not because they came at me with their gavels and demanded I answer with five supporting fact-based statements to back up my theories. I mean it challenged me because I believed them at first. I believed that because they were bringing up these potential problems, they were bound to be legitimate problems. I bought into the myths. I had to take a step back, take a deep breath and reread How To Raise Your I.Q. By Eating Gifted Children, (I had to throw that one in here). When I get centered in my thinking I remember that I KNOW my son. I can debunk these myths about differentiated curriculum, at least for my kid. Er, at least until the next meeting where the questions will challenge me in a new way.

In case I get off-center again, please copy, paste and post on my kid:

What is most important to Logue is NOT that he feel like a "normal" student.
It's not important that he feel that he is "like" everyone else.
He doesn't care if he's doing the same things as other students.
He has known for a very long time that he is different than what he sees in most of his peers.
A unique way of being in school sounds like a relief to him.

What IS important: That Logue feels UNDERSTOOD.
That his needs are met emotionally and intellectually.
That his teachers identify with him in some way and validate who he is.
That he feels he can identify with his teachers.

I suspect this will elicit feelings of relief for Logue.

Reminder:
Social Phobia is the fear of being judged.
Teachers are really the ULTIMATE JUDGES from a student's perspective.
Elevate him in a way that enables him to take back some of that power.
Word. I mean, Ohm.

Photo: New NAGC Poster courtesy of Tamara Fisher and her blog Unwrapping the Gifted

Luke Skywalker & Superman Our Schools NEED You!

As my husband and I have been navigating the special education system it has become so much more clear how little is being done to understand what children need in order to be successful learners. The latest catch phrase seems to be "21st Century Education" when referring to how classrooms should and can change from teacher centered to information centered. The possibilities of using resources outside the classroom walls are endless (students can create their own lessons online!) and can be harnessed to induce a higher love for learning in students. But - and it's a big BUT...people have to embrace the concept of change. Change in education systems can go very slowly with traditionalists fighting every step of the way. George Lucas writes eloquently here about how it's taken 20 years and we're just now starting to talk about what's working and what's not working in our schools.



I don't know where I've been but I just found out about George Lucas' organization, Edutopia and edutopia.org. The site is packed with information about how to enrich education for our children. How to start an after school social-emotional learning program or showing teachers how to use technology such as TED.com (Technology, Entertainment, Design) a collaboration of genius minds sharing their expertise, to watch a video on a subject he/she is teaching that week are just a couple of examples. Having a twice-exceptional child (also known as 2E: Gifted with a learning disability or emotional challenge), I am constantly looking for resources that will spark interest in him and for the teachers who, bless their hearts, are challenged with the task of motivating him to learn. And that's another blog, or book, or book series in itself.
My hope is that people will go see WAITING FOR SUPERMAN and jump into 21st Century Learning.

My Fieldtrip to H & M

I found this dress in all of its recycled polyester and happy floral glory!!!

Oh, and I'm using this bag to wear with it:

Bambini Boutique - timi & leslie Marilyn Diaper Bag in Teal
Do I care that it's a diaper bag? Nope.

1st High School Trimester Redux - Part 1

Since Logue entered high school this Fall, my anxiety level started increasing exponentially. The voices inside my head keep saying "Now his grades actually count." At first I had to restrain myself from grabbing his backpack and doing his homework for him. Call me crazy, but I've seen the 3rd grade science projects in which the quantum physics applied clearly did not come from the 8 year old.

I want Logue to have all the resources possible for the kind of education he deserves, that any child deserves. Unfortunately, grades sometimes determine the opportunities and homework sometimes stifles the excitement for learning.

A few nights ago, Logue had to sketch a copy of a Calvin and Hobbes illustration as accurately as possible. He tried for 2 hours to conjure up something he thought would be acceptable to turn in to his new high school art teacher. But in his mind he fell short because accurate meant perfect and to him it wasn't perfect. Then came the frustration, the anxiety and the defeatist attitude and BOOM! It hit me - like wearing 5" heels reminds me that I have bunions:

Flash back to 5th grade math class. One day Logue didn't finish a homework assignment. His teacher, brilliant man, decided he'd show Logue a thing or two by putting him out in the hall. That night, Logue didn't know how to do the new homework because uh, he was in the hall feeling stupid and missed the lesson. This went on EVERY DAY for months before I found out. The teacher sure showed Logue. Wait, showed him what? That homework and school can be profoundly castrating?

After the Art assignment melt down and my flashback b*tch slap, I let Logue have some time to just relax and not think about homework. Then I did the unthinkable: I told him that the grade was not worth losing self esteem. If he tried, he tried - even if that means a "D" as in "Dang, so close." If the teacher has some suggestions for improvement, so be it. His grade is not a reflection of WHO he is. I want him to WANT to learn. And anyway, I would be punching out any teacher who doesn't realize how wonderful and brilliant he is. He let out a huge sigh and gave me a hug. *Joy* I still get hugs from my 14 yr old son. Twenty years from now, we're going to remember the hugs, not the grades. (Well, and maybe the image of me socking his teachers with my 5'3" mini self.)

I've always had mixed feelings about homework and grades, probably because I got nothing but A's out of fear and now I'm a pretty screwed up, gigantic, anxiety ball. What are these stressful homework situations teaching our kids?

Cut back to present day, 1st Trimester, Freshman year: For Logue's final exam in English he had to answer the question, "What does it mean to be Educated?"

While I may not be educated enough to answer that question in any coherent fashion, I do know what it DOESN'T mean:

*It isn't that you've memorized the Periodic Table and all the Presidents of America.

*It isn't how many hours your butt was stuck in a desk.

*It isn't your test scores.

*It isn't your pedigree of degrees from Pre-School to PhD.

What kid can even make it into Stanford or Harvard these days? One with a 6.8 GPA? And what does that half million dollar education get them today? A large diploma with an gigantic student loan bill?

We've all stuck our nose in our kid's homework where it didn't belong in an effort to either circumvent an emotional breakdown, boost their chances of getting to be an Ivy Leaguer or (even better) prevent our "perfect parent" reputation from being tarnished by a bad grade in 3rd grade geography. Whether its helping with just that one little paragraph or building the damn model bridge ourselves, sometimes we just to want it to get done already!

Apparently some parents' (not me of course) OVER involvement in homework has become an epidemic according to Alfie Kohn. In "Stop doing the homework, overzealous parents warned," Kohn states this phenomenon has some schools requiring students to complete their work at school to ensure parents are not undermining the learning process. I say yay to that concept. I already did my times tables.

Homework at our home can cause tension, stress and anxiety. I'm not going to let 5 hours of video gaming take the place of what could be more productive, non-comatose time BUT, I will be the first to email a teacher when memorizing states and capitals becomes a 2 hour long process with only Oregon and Washington accomplished while members of my family are losing their voices and handfuls of hair. I have questioned teachers on the validity of an assignment. It does mean crossing that line. You know, the one that puts you on THAT list at the school. So, I'm the Bad Mom - the out of the box, non conventional, trouble maker who questions the curriculum making all the teachers avert their gazes when I walk down the hall.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "So, what's going on at home that is affecting your child's ability to do their homework?"

You mean besides the fact that I tell my kid the homework is stupid?

I'm not at the point yet where I have taken on battling the school's homework policy, but there are many parents who have done just that: like here.

Luckily, I have THE BAD MOMS CLUB - to at the very least share my badness, non Super Mom ways and have moms like me to justify my unconventional means of surviving .

note: no teachers were hurt in the making of this blog post.

For Anna

Glee - Don't Stop Believin'

Sweet Anna, my justifiably absent co-blogger, has been slammed with an autoimmune disease that is debilitating, painful and worst of all not curable. Remarkably, it is the same disease I was diagnosed with 9 years ago.

No one can fully understand another person's experience until they've lived it and even then it is through different filters, perspectives and emotions. As they say...Until you walk a mile...But, nothing can be more of a comfort than hearing someone say "I've been there," (and meaning it) "I understand what you're going through."

While Anna is struggling with her disease in greater proportion than I ever have...I dedicate this video to her - to you Anna, as my way of saying: I've been there and I understand what you're going through. Don't give up, it will get better...and I love you. Oh, and I picked this to remind you what the good kind of chills on the back of your neck feel like that lead to inspiration rather than curling up in a ball.

Parenting - Are SuperNanny and Dr. Phil Steering us Wrong?

I found this article from the New York Times, When a Parent’s ‘I Love You’ Means ‘Do as I Say’ by Alfie Kohn quite thought provoking. As a parent I'm constantly motivated by the desire to keep my kids out of therapy in their adult years as a direct result of my inept attempts to protect, teach and guide. I find myself fighting the urge to "helicopter parent" quite often even though I know better. Somehow that instinct to protect your children from pain and sadness can become so strong, reason gets overshadowed.

The article raises some points that have enticed me to read the book. I've always been a believer in talking with your children so they understand why you have the rules you enforce, why it's important to abide by them and why certain behavior is unacceptable.


Wesley Bedrosian

When Logue was a toddler we impressed in him that crossing any street is dangerous and he should pay attention to signs such as "Don't Walk." We didn't want to just say "No" to him all the time without explaining why. In fact, we did our best to take "No" out of our vocabulary and use words such as "Danger" as more descriptive cues. One day while riding our bikes at the beach (I think Logan was 7) we came to a boardwalk. After several minutes I realized I didn't hear the whir of the bikes behind me. As I turned around I saw Logue stopped at a sign with his Daddy bending down to talk to him. I rode back to find out what had happened thinking Logue's chain came off or he was tired. I looked at J and he pointed to the sign right in front of Logue that read "No Bikes Allowed on the Boardwalk." "He won't disobey the sign," said J. Logue started to cry. He didn't want to break the rules. We couldn't convince him that just this once, breaking the rule wasn't going to hurt anyone. He wouldn't budge. So, we walked our bikes and he was happy following the rules.

However, I have questions after reading the article. Mainly, how does it all work Mr. Kohn? If Bean tells me I'm stupid and I walk away because I'm not willing to participate in a conversation like that with her, am I giving her the message that I don't unconditionally love and accept her? Or am I setting a boundary that teaches her how her behavior affects other people?

I would love all of you to weigh in on your thoughts about Unconditional Parenting vs. well, whatever it is you do. Parent or not, you were parented at one time. Did you feel unconditionally loved and accepted or did it feel that love had to be earned? If you are a parent, have you put yourself in the minds of your children to try to see your love and acceptance from their point of view? Do you reward based on grades, good behavior, high performance in sports? Do you withhold love and acceptance from your child if he/she doesn't meet your expectations?
How do you feel about the exerpt from Kohn's article:

The child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim, who readily acknowledged that the version of negative conditional parenting known as time-out can cause “deep feelings of anxiety,” nevertheless endorsed it for that very reason. “When our words are not enough,” he said, “the threat of the withdrawal of our love and affection is the only sound method to impress on him that he had better conform to our request.” But the data suggest that love withdrawal isn’t particularly effective at getting compliance, much less at promoting moral development. Even if we did succeed in making children obey us, though — say, by using positive reinforcement — is obedience worth the possible long-term psychological harm? Should parental love be used as a tool for controlling children?

Let's talk!

This Girl

Dear beautiful, free thinking, independent yet dependent Bean,

You can be so smart, funny and fun to be around but sometimes the teenager in you comes out and it scares the hell out of me. I feel like I can barely remember the last nine years and I don't want to lose any more time. I guess that's the question I have: Do you "lose" time that has past when memories fade? Or is it something you've gained like a stripe on your uniform of life? Or is it that gray hair that sticks straight up in the middle of your part? I desperately want to hold on to time...make it slow to a pace my brain can keep up with.

It's funny Miss Bean - you regress to younger behavior at times, throwing your tantrums, crying and screaming and yet at others you're spitting out hateful, yet teenager-like phrases. Your favorite thing to say is:
"You hate me and everyone can tell. It's SO obvious."

I'm in awe of you and yet so confused by you. I love all the blogs and businesses you've created. The ideas amaze me and your commitment to your Pet Helping Program filled me with pride. Yesterday, you came up with a business card for your NewsFlash website on the computer and I was floored by how smart and innovative it was.







I've learned a few things from you this summer:

1. I need to work harder on pushing you out of the nest so you can build on your comfort level with separating and becoming independent from me.
   
   
2. You cannot be bribed! (Yes, I have stooped to trying bribes.) It usually backfires.
   
   
3. You are such an independent thinker. While some girls your age are concerned about Manolo Blahniks and Coach purses (I'm not kidding), you are concerning yourself with writing songs, conjuring up skits, having tea parties with the dogs and finding a miniature wheelchair for Pinkie the injured pink puppy.

I hope you never lose that exquisite part of you.

I look at this picture of you and after I throw up, hyperventilate and pour some Visine into my eyes, I hope with every neuron in my brain, that I can be the right mother for you.
Love,
Mama

I Should Have Done This a Long Time Ago

When the world lost two legends yesterday I panicked. Not only from the sadness of the loss but from the fear that I hadn't taught my children about the people from my childhood who have shaped the entertainment world today. I thought I had time to inject little bits of Michael Jackson musical history into Bean's world of Hannah Montana and The Jonas Brothers. But, as life reminds us from time to time that it is fleeting, last night I was jolted with the fear that she might grow up not knowing who this musical genius was.

Logue was out of town and is old enough to know who MJ is and appreciate his contributions and influence on music and dance today. But Bean, being 5 years younger, somehow missed that Soul Train ride through music history.
I felt a pressing need to give Bean a history lesson of all things Michael Jackson. Of course I first had to give props to Farrah: "Farrah Faucet was an original Charlie's Angel, they were spies and mommy thought that was so cool 'cause it was when "Girl Power" was really popular you know like after Title Nine?" The kid actually knows about Title Nine, thank you American Girl (I'm sorry I once thought your products were a worthless, stereotype inducing waste of time...I was wrong). I kept it short not because I think less of Farrah, I just knew I had that short 9 yr. old window of time (like 10 minutes) before her eyes would glaze over and Selena Gomez on TV would take precedence. I mean no disrespect to Farrah, but come on, MJ was the man I was going to marry...or so I thought when I was 10. Priorities.

I started with the Jackson Five singing "ABC" then "I'll Be There" as I used to sing that to Bean when she was still little and couldn't say, "Mama, can you please stop singing now?" She watched with bated breath. I dug in. "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough" and "Billie Jean" the live version where the Moonwalk was debuted.
"He invented that Mom."
"I know baby, I'm so proud that you know that."
"I invented the "Sun Walk" which is forward and the "Star Walk" which is sideways!" She said.
Right on Sister!

"Now Bean, you have to understand "Beat It" came out when A) Music videos were brand new and B) MJ was the first to use Dance as an artistic expression of his music in his videos and that was BRILLIANT."
"Wait, how come there isn't a "Menu" on VHS tapes?" she asked.
"Tomorrow I'll teach you about 8-tracks, vinyl records, Beta and VHS tapes."
"Wha?"
"Nevermind."

J came in to share in the tribute and if Daddy was interested, well then so was she. So, I steered her focus back with "Thriller" the ultimate lesson in innovation, artistry, expression of music through dance and well, just pure genius. I tried to invoke the emotion of anticipation I felt waiting for the album "Thriller" to come out. I was in junior high school, in the very same gymnasium where my son's 8th grade class performed their rendition of "Thriller" this past May. I was practicing my MJ spins and Moonwalk with my friends talking non-stop about who's house we could watch MTV for the premier of the video because most of us didn't have cable.

"Why didn't you just DVR it?" asked Bean.
"Tomorrow, babe, tomorrow."

Since "Thriller" was familiar to her, I had her hooked and from there we followed the journey of MJ's career until she fell asleep.

I continued to reminisce about the countless hours I practiced the Moonwalk, how when "Don't Stop Til you Get Enough" plays, I get chills every time, how I dreamed of someday dancing in one of MJ's videos and because of that teenage obsession my poor best friend had a dream/nightmare when we were in high school that I kept coming after her, stomping my feet with that wild look in my eye shouting "Dah!"

I hope I imparted in Bean the influence MJ had on my dance career and what an iconic legend he will always be. As a lover of music and a former professional dancer this piece of history was so important to me to pass on to my kids.

At some point when the ban on embedding MJ's video's lifts, I will post "Black or White" here for my kids to watch in the years to come as this video helped break barriers between races through dance. For now, here's the link:
BLACK OR WHITE

OUT OF THE FOG

Oh, I just came out of a fog. A wrong-freakin-medication-for-a-year-and-a-half fog. And the thing is I didn't realize I was in a fog until I changed medications. I mean, I had moments when my gut would say "Hey, I think we're not doing so well," and my brain would say "Quit your whining wimp! There are children starving in Africa."

By the way, I do have an adopted child in Uganda. His name is Amos, he's adorable and the money I send goes towards his education and other necessities.

Anywho, I kept thinking things weren't quite right but it took me a long time to get up the courage to go to my Doc and mention it. I kept thinking she'd come out of the examination room after talking to me and gather all the nurses around to have a good laugh about what a hypochondriac I am and then come back in and say "Well, let's just give it some time and see what happens."

But, I gathered up my gumption and made an appointment with my Doc. It went something like this:

Me: "I think I kinda haven't been wanting to really get out of bed for like maybe six or twelve months like I might be I don't know kinda depressed-ish?"
Doc: "That doesn't surprise me, the medication your other doc put you on isn't really the right one and depression isn't something we should mess around with."
Me: (outside voice) "Oh?" (inside voice) "F-ing why did he put me on it in the first place and let me frickin' suffer for a year-plus god dammit and where were you in all this? Did it just occur to you that I was on the wrong drug even though we've talked about it numerous times? Or, were you waiting for a call from the psych ward that I'd been admitted before you decided to do something?"
Doc: "Yes, let's change your medication."
Me: "Huh, ok."

I won't get into why I need these meds - I've already reaped the ramifications of "sharing" this information i.e. Life Insurance companies won't insure me anymore. They call me "high-risk" but the message I hear is: "Our surveys say you're gonna die sooner than later and we just can't take that kind of risk given the statistics on people like you and all." I know, I'm such a pessimist.

So, after switching meds, which I won't even go into the insane process that was (well, I have just two words for what the side effects felt like: Brain Electrocution)...the fog has lifted.

And I'm kind of thinking, wow this is what 'normal' feels like?

And I'm kind of pissed because I knew in my gut something wasn't quite right when all I could really do was make sure the kids were alive, clothed and sent off to school and then collapse, but what do I know?

RANDOM DENIAL

Dammit, it happened again. I found another career to add to the 582 careers that I want to pursue.

It always happens on a day like today when I'm in the middle of a Fibromyalgia attack that inevitably makes me depressed, grumpy and guilt-ridden because I'm not dealing with my day-to-day responsibilities.

It's a slippery slope of guilt, denial and...I don't know WTF else.

As if I don't have enough on my plate - I'm constantly trying to squeeze in some pet project or charity even though I don't take care of myself as it is. When I became a mom I let go of the notion that I "needed" anything but my children to thrive. It's as if a switch went off and the thought of say going to the makeup counter weekly as I did in the old days makes me feel like I'm violating some code I don't know the name of but it's there in my head and it says: MUST NOT DO FOR SELF. I mean, I want to look good but who the hell would pay $50 for a lipstick when that money could go towards 20 home cooked meals of Kraft Mac & Cheese, and 6 day-old loaves of bread? Besides, the time it would take to look decent enough to go out, drive to the mall, park, choose a lipstick that I'll never wear and come back home? I'd rather freakin' take a nap. Lately, if I have time and energy to put chapstick on I'm giddy with pride and accomplishment.

I can't remember the last time I got a haircut, as in like going to the salon instead of taking some Fiskars into the bathroom and hacking off some layers. And shopping for clothes? Yeah right. Good one. But alas, there I was on the internet, watching a news story (see below) and going I WANT TO DO THAT TOO!!!

Maybe it's the Cancer (astrological not medical) in me who wants to nurture every possible thing I come across. I say "thing" because I've been known to feel sorry for inanimate objects. "See Jay, the lion statue is sad because the birds are all sitting on the other lion statue."

I am fully aware that the dreams I have over and over about losing a baby bird and desperately searching for it until I wake up in a cold sweat could be my subconscious mind crying: YOU ARE NOT FULFILLED! I SO am in the sense of fulfillment I feel with my family, my kids and our lives together. How am I contributing to the world (aside from raising my kids) that gives me a sense of accomplishment and gets me out of bed every morning? That seems to be where I have gotten lost.

First step: balance the peas, chicken and potatoes on my plate (and maybe take off a few Krispy Kremes).

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Seriously though, anyone want to open a SAME Cafe with me?

MY WORK LATELY