Time for judging people...

I was told by another mother that I overshare.

I have not ever had a conversation with this woman of even 10 words and she felt entitled to inform me about...well..me. I must say I respect her backbone just not her action.

See, she felt the need to inform me that because I am unashamed of the path that my life has been through I should keep it quiet. Here's what she didn't know....

I am not ashamed.

The thing is, I have been married before. I have been through divorce. I have been in abusive relationships. I have experienced heartache and depression. I have been broken.

BUT... She failed to see the most amazing parts of my life because she was too busy suiting in her big black robe and thinking she could judge me.

She failed to see that I have survived. She wasn't on my porch the night the police had to be called to my house just to let me leave. She wasn't present for my VPO hearing where I had to swallow down tears stand tall while my knees shook so hard my high heels wobbled. She wasn't there any of the times I  dropped my son off with a smile on my face and then cried the whole drive home. She didn't pay my bills when I planned out each and every piece of bread to make sure I had enough for peanut butter sandwiches for the week.

She failed to see that  all of the things that I went through, are just things. They do not define me. Yes, they have effected me. Yes they have shaped and shifted and altered me into a different woman than I was 10 years ago. I am not even the same woman I was 6 mths ago. I am more. I am stronger. I am someone meaner... and I like me. I believe in me. I did not always. I fought tooth and nail to become this woman.

She prolly is the kind of woman who judges other people who had babies as teenagers... Funny thing, I judge them too. Just not in the way that she does. I judge that they are tougher than I am. I judge that they are made of sacrifices and love for their children that I respect. I judge that they truly know the things they gave up for their children and know that it was worth it. Many of my favorite people in my life are those children and mommas. I can not even imagine my life without them.

The thing with judging is that you weren't there. You don't know what you can handle until you are on the other side of the storm.

So to the woman who had the audacity to judge me.... Hats off to you.
However, I noticed that you didn't say them to my face which tells me you at least respect me enough to be BEHIND me...
After all if you're talking behind my back...
enjoy the view and feel free to pucker up princess.

Baby Daddies

I have heard/read/ and listened in on conversations that your first child looks more like the man than all other children. The reason (per the writings and studies) is that pre-scientific evidence, the men would be able to know, even in cave times, that the child was THEIRS.

I find this concept interesting. Where does that leave people like me? I have previously been married and had the most amazing child. Yes, my son does in some instances resemble his father/my ex, however; my son looks and acts sooo much like my father that I am a believer in the NATURE versus nurture debate. His actions and logic is beyond where my brain usually ventures. He is logical and rational and uses reasoning like a weapon. I am in awe of this more often than I will admit in public very often. I am non of those. I am emotional and moved by my heart. We are near opposites when it comes to choices and making decisions. I do not wish to change him, but there are some times that my emotional and heart led brain struggles to explain "WHY." to my logical and reasoning child.

Back to my original idea, if my son did not necessarily follow this idea, does that mean that my next child will not ? I find this sad. I kind like the idea of being able to look at baby pictures of a man I love and know that the possibility of my next child looking like said loved man . My ex husband had the most dominate genetics ever. His eyes, hair, skin all are considered "dominate" per the whole Mendel's dominate/ recessive notion about predicting the outcome of offspring.

BUT.. my son is not dark, does not have dark eyes, and does not have dark hair. He is the genetic hopscotch king and skipped all of that. Let me pause for a moment and address a weird and wonderful thing. My son came out, DARK.. hair, skin, eyes, everything. He could have been a doppelganger for his dad.... BUT within a small window he no longer is any of those.

I confess that I have a personal weakness for men with brown eyes. I even somewhat hoped my son ( prior to his arrival outside of the belly home) would have them. I have NO complaints that my child looks nothing like what I assumed he would look like because I think he is altogether amazing and handsome in a way I couldn't have imagined.

I wonder if men hope their children will look like them? How does that work? If you are in a committed relationship and make babies, do the men still dream that the offspring will look the most like them? Do daddies even think about that? Has the genetic tide pool shifted over time? Has the need for children to look like their fathers receded over time?

I sometimes wish I had a magic ball and could look into what I hope to be my future life and see if my subsequent babies look like their dad or like me...

I sorda hope that they look like their father. Why wouldn't I want a kid(s) to look like the man I love?
;)

Everything happens for a reason...

I am a true follower of the idea that everything happens for a reason.

I am also wise enough to know that there are things I won't understand now, and some that I may never understand. I am not a fan of thinking that there are things in my life that will never make sense. In fact, if I let myself contemplate it for ever a short moment of time it begins to agitate and bother me enough to cause me true anguish.

I wish I had some magic fortune tellers ball and could look into and give people answers. I wish there were moments someone was there to hold my hand and tell me that it will all makes sense in the end. But the thing I believe, the truth, is that not everything will make sense and sometimes the reasons why things happen are so far removed from me that I will never see the cause that effected me.

Then the idea that some things HAVE to happen to make me (or them) better. For example if I'd given up and decided not to have my munchkin with my ex...What if my son has a destiny to be something so great and change the world, but I robbed the universe of it because I changed my mind after we decided to try to make a kid? And because I hadn't yet my son I didn't know what I was missing?

I believe that God has a sense of humor, I believe that he knows I flex without breaking, and that I make a fantastic punchline. I also think that sometimes he allows me to go through things because it makes me stronger even though when I am going through it I feel weaker.

I truly believe that all my jobs I had prior to teaching helped to equip me to be a teacher.

Grocery store cashier- ability to answer multiple questions, deal with conflict and see people at both their best and worst and treat them equally
Waitress- help others, listen to 15 people all at once, keep track of information, and do it all with a smile
Photography studio- see the best in people, celebrate life's events, be there in the right moment
Jewelry Sales- find out the needs of others, figure out what they can do, help them to see they can do it, make them happy with their accomplishments
Children's Shoe Sales- meet the needs of others, find the best fit, handle crying and snot, and gross things with ease and act like nothing even phases you, breathe and handle everything that comes my way
Marketing- ask and answer a ton of questions, learn names and faces rapidly, convince others I/ we are great at what we do

I think all of these things are integral pieces of what makes me good & also love my job.
everything happens for a reason. I did not love all of those jobs, but they  all taught me something. I think the same is true with people in my life, everyone is there for a reason. Some people are there to teach me, others to keep me sane, some to hold me in check, and others I am apart of their life to teach, help, love them.

I believe that every moment in my life has led me to this place... this moment.. this time...
if I had changed one step I might never fall in love...
never had had my son...
never become a teacher...

everything happens for a reason, sometimes the reason is above what my feeble brain can understand.

Boobies

I discovered a lump in my boob about December of last year. I asked the man I was with to check and see if he felt anything and he refused and told me I was just being dramatic and that there was prolly nothing there.
Mostly, He "foo foo'd" me off.
I decided maybe I was crazy...

And so... I waited.

January in a quiet and yet dramatic course of events I left said man.

July I went in for my "girlie" exam where they examine my ladies, check under the hood, and make sure everything is fine. As my Dr, is chatting away with me and discussing life, love, my munchkin, how blessed I am, etc. and she is feeling me up like a easy prom date she pauses in the conversation.

She says... "Do you do your monthly self breast check ups?"
Me: "Yes...............(silence)......why?"
She Dr. "Have you noticed this before?" concern on her face and voice tense
Me "yes. I found it in December but previously mentioned ex told me I was crazy and being dramatic."
She Dr. " I'm sure it's nothing...BUT... we need to get this checked out.
For those of you unfamiliar with the "BUT statement rule" let me enlighten you. Anything said before the 'But' should be ignored because it's just there to sugar coat the truth. I am aware of the "BUT statement" rule of conversation and have to begin concentrating on breathing as I am panicked.

A quick couple texts to people I adore and trust and a few 5 calls to get the "just check this out" appointment scheduled, some promises from my BFF to get new bigger fake boobs if it's a bad lump and I am at the Oklahoma Breast Center in OKC.

I arrive for my appoint and get taken back to a quiet freezing room and get topless, a lovely nurse brings me a heated blanket and we begin to look and discuss at the inside of my boobs.

She explains everything, shows everything, labels everything, and is amazing. However, she also feels like the head Dr. man needs to come in and feel me up too

At this point 3 separate people have seen and felt me up, none of which have brought me dinner or even a snack. Sighhhh.

After much discussion we all agree that there IS a lump. It IS noticeable. It IS hard. It IS about the size of a marble. We discuss and evaluate as a team (a team for my boobs!) and decide a mammogram is next. The have me move across the building; still topless; and a nice new lady feels me up and puts cut flower stickers on the lump and they do a mammogram. Yes I have heard the horror stories about mammograms and heard how they "squish" your boobs and make them feel like pancakes... but a. I am not enormously blessed b. my lady was amazing c. I kept giggling at the way my boobs looked squished between two clear pieces of glass. I kept thinking of fish faces squished across the wall of an aquarium d. my alarm from the day before went off and we enjoyed "Boston" by Augustana and it helped relax me.

4 people have now played with my boobies and still no snacks or treats or offers for a date.

I am taken back to a room where mister Dr. man, ultrasound lady, and the mammogram film all are. We all look, talk, analyze, and decide that there IS a bump. It IS hard. It doesn't look bad, but all of their years of experience tell them to check ONE more way. I get taken over to scheduling where we discuss my cycles and they ask some really in depth questions and am actually able to answer them with 100% answers because I have an app for that. ;)

We schedule my MRI for the next day.

I have a problem with needles.

A LARGE problem.... when I arrive on Thurs a lovely nurse has me get topless ( naked boobies seen by person number 5) and we discuss if I have tattoos, piercings or any other internal metal, etc. She begins my IV, I look away and concentrate on breathing and on our discussion about tattoos and babies. I feel myself get heavy and my eyes start to spot... I let her know about 1 min. before I pass out. I wake up 5 min. later, a little hazy about where I am, surrounded by 3 more people, still topless.

Number of people who have seen or felt my boobies in one week, 8.

I get relaxed, we do the MRI. I think about the man I crush on, music lyrics, the last time I cuddled anyone, the heated blanket on my legs, the annoyance of laying my body weight on my rib cage, and wait.

Turns out, after 8 people have seen or felt up my boobies in a week, and non of them even offered me a stick of gum, I am thankful that my the only thing wrong with me is I'm lumpy like bad mashed potatoes at Gramma's Thanksgiving.

However, I will also not take my boobies for granted. I will be thankful that I breast fed my son for almost a year. I am blessed that while I have bad genetics I have the gift of prayer and people who love me and help handle my whiney stressed out self. I am blessed that my insurance didn't need a pre approval and I was able to get answers in the same week .
God is good even if my boobies are lumpy. :)