Mom to the Screaming Masses

The Weird Sisters - Not What You'd Expect

"This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own."

When I was sent The Weird Sisters, I was intereested but also slightly annoyed. The tale of three completely opposite sisters who are only bound together by the blood they share, I was worried that I'd be bothered by certain aspects of the book.

Mostly by the fact that they may be sisters, but they really don't like each other. At all.

I waas intrigued, though, by the manner in which these three sisters managed to come together to deal with the health crisis that frames the story. I wondered to myself just which sister I'd be like if I had to deal with such a crisis - would I be like scatterbrained Cordelia? Or more like pragmatic Rose, who was virtually unflappable in any situation? I REALLY hoped I wouldn't be like Bean - I probably sympathized with her the least.

Or at least, I thought I did. But then the book would shift and my sympathies would go right along with it and I was, once again, confused.

This book kept me guessing, that's for certain.

I had many areas of this book marked, and here's one of the areas that really spoke to me:

What do you do when you are no longer the one worth watching? When there are women less beautiful, less intelligent, less versed in the art of the game who nonetheless can beat you at it simply because of their birthdate?

Something I've been pondering due to a scenario I observed at the mall last week.

And another:

We all have stories we tell ourselves. We tell ourselves we are too fat, or too ugly, or too old, or too foollish. We tell ourselves these stories because they allow us to excuse our actions, and they allow us to pass off all of the responsiblity for things we have done...

Further on in the same scene:

Your story is the story of your sisters. And it is past time, I think, for you to stop telling that particular story, and tell the story of yourself. Stop defining yourself in terms of them. You don't have to exist in the empty spaces they leave. ....We can change the story we tell ourselves about it, and by doing that, we can change the future.

Powerful stuff, indeed.

in the end, the book ends exactly as it is supposed to - and for me, that's the mark of a good book.

Please join us over on the Blogher discussion page and read this book.

 

What Makes People Do The Things That They Do?

I'm not pondering this as it relates to just people in general, but in particular the things, the forces, the what have you - what makes two different people in the same family react in total opposite to the other.

That was a rambling sentence.

If you have more than one child, you probably know of what I speak.

Say you have a handful of kids, and they are all asked to speak in public about their favorite book. You take all of those kids to the public area in which they are to speak, and there is a crowd of people there, other students and parents - most of whom are known to the children. You yourself are in the front row, with the other siblings, and the principal (who the children really like. A lot.) All of your own children have prepared talks that they have written themselves and practiced. All of your children have spoken in public before.

One of your children does magnificently.

One of your children speaks, although this child is a bit wobbly and nervous and it's reflected in the voice.

One of those children decides, on the way there, that participation will not happen. And though you'd really like to see this child participate, the only response that you give is, "Ok. It's up to you. Whatever you decide is ok with me." Because it is. The entire night is completely voluntary and it doesn't matter one way or another.

And one of those children has a total freak out when the name is called and loses his/her complete mind. You have to hold on to said child because this child wants to hide under the chair, and cries forcefully but completely quiet, so as not to attract more attention.  Which is what you thought might happen, but when said child volunteered to speak in public you were so surprised and you didn't say anything at all for fear that you might sway the outcome.

You as the parent reassure the child, but realize that by mentioning it over and over, you are making matters worse, and so you leave that child in the company of older siblings and walk away.

So. If all of those children are raised in the same home, with the exact same parents and the exact same set of circumstances - what I'm pondering is - what makes each child react in the manner that they do?

And, before you ask, I didn't react negatively to the two kids who bagged. I congratulated the two kids who did complete the talk, and then we got hot chocolate and left. There was emphatically no punishment, no negative talk, no mention of it at all.

I've been thinking about it for a week, and observing people - and I really wonder - what makes people the way that they are? What makes one person "She never knew a stranger!" and the blood relative so shy that eye contact can't even be made?

And if kids have two parents who are both outgoing and chatty - how do they end up with introverted children?

Discuss among yourselves.

Life Well Lived - Love Yourself Unconditionally

How do you practice self-acceptance and find unconditional love for yourself? How does practicing love first help you attract more love and happiness in your life?

Self Acceptance is a tough thing for me - I find that it's a very fine line between "I love myself and am happy to be me" and "WOW. I am so, so wonderful that everyone should want to be just.like.me!!!!"

In other words, when does self acceptance and unconditional love become vanity? How do you know if too much is, indeed, too much?

I don't know. I know that it's almost in "vogue" to list your flaws, but I often do it anyway - not in a effort for empathy or to discuss how awful I am, but in an effort to keep me away from the vanity. Then, again, there's a fine line between realism and self pity.

Gah. Aren't you glad that you are not in my head? It's a total messed up place, to be certain.

I find, though, that when I go through a list of my "flaws" - too chunky thighs, bubble bottom, crooked jaw, scars on my arms and legs and boobs from melanoma excisions, lack of patience, easily frustrated, judgemental and not tolerant, etc etc - I then tend to dwell on those, and my day goes downhill. So, to compensate for that, I try to balance them out. I list things about myself that I do like - nice eyes, fair figure (although I need to work on it something fierce!), great at multi-tasking, have ability to accomplish a lot in one day.

When I try to focus on feeling good about myself, it's funny that I tend to be more positive in general. I don't lose my temper quite so quickly, the air smells cleaner, my checkbook balances and I have no acne.

Kidding.

I'd love to know how you manage to balance it.

After commenting here - or if you don't want to (sob, sob) - head over to the Blogher main page to participate in the round up - and read the blog post, where you could enter to win a Kindle Fire!

Sports Bras and Me

This topic is really only of interest to the female crowd. That's not to say that I would discourage any male readers - but, you know, you might be WAY more comfortable coming on back tomorrow. This is a discussion of boobies, yes, to be sure - but I will venture to say it's NOT scintillating in any way, shape or form. :)

I have a love/hate relationship with work out bras. I love them for what they do - if they are utilized correctly, they reduce or even eliminate bounce, making the wearer far more comfortable as she goes about her exercise. Especially if she's doing something high impact - I've been known to scream (in my car, only in my car, and not at random women running down the street) "For the love of God, get a supportive bra on! It hurts just to watch you run!!"

Stream of Consciousness - February 5, 2012

We are heavily entrenched in the paperwork right now. I've got kids who have term papers due, projects to create and applications for schools for next year, and all of this extra work has me in a funk.

It's cold. It's no longer 70 degrees - which was a total fluke anyway, but it was still superb - and now it's rainy. One of my kids was up most all of last night with tummy bugs and I'm exhausted.

I missed National Delurker day, which makes me unbelievably cross with myself, although it's really stupid to be upset by this.

I think it's all just seasonal. February is often the worst month of the year for me. It's cold, I am TOTALLY unmotivated to exercise - especially now that I've lost my ability to train boxing every day - and all I want to do is sleep. And eat. Neither of which bode well for my figure.

Blerg. Tonight, we have a SUPER BOWL PARTY - which should be good for the enjoyment.

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Now…

1. Grab the button

(it’s over at Fadra's Place)

2. Write your post.

3. Link up there.

You See the COOLEST Stuff From a Plane Window

This past weekend I flew from home to San Jose by way of Houston.

And, duh, then I came back. The same route, in reverse.

Wanna know why I was flying? Check it out. It's pretty cool.

I had my typical bad travel karma on the way out, which is to say that I was "randomly" searched at security, had to run for the gate in Houston, the tram broke down, I sat on said tram (after the THIRD time it broke down) withing literal spitting distance - see, I'm not exaggerating -

Project 29/366

But I wanted to share with you something that happened on the way home.

We flew from San Jose to Houston, and about halfway through the flight, the turbulance began and we were alerted to a storm. We bounced up and down and up again, and I was pleasantly surprised to see this:

Project 31/366 - photoshopped a teeny bit, so that the rainbow "popped", but not so much as you might think - it was REALLY stormy.

There's always a rainbow. Somewhere.

PSST - I have a couple of posts up for Redbook.

Random Question

What is the house cleaning chore that you dread the most?

Stream of Consciousness - January 29

I'm in San Jose today, and for the next two days, on a job that I cannot share - yet - so I thought I'd take on today's prompt.

Today’s (Optional) Writing Prompt: Describe, in detail, the way you like to relax.

It never fails to crack me up that, when I travel for some kinds of blog functions, my family seems to think I'm away on vacay. Travel doesn't relax me. Well, no, travel alone - that's not uber relaxing. I go on a trip once a year with my husband for his job - now, THAT'S relaxation. I'd much rather travel WITH my husband - someone to sleep on in the plane, to dish with about the other travelers, to make fun of the woman who completely lost her cool on the second plane when a man stepped on her foot (by accident, and how DARE he have an accident like that, didn't he know how much it hurt her??), someone to watch the luggage while I take the world's longest pee, someone to grumble with when the tram in Houston stalls, stops, forcing us to get off the tram and then back on and when it finally drives down the rail it hesitates

and then completely stops on the rails -

Project 29/366

and just, you know, to be with my husband.

Especially today. Cuz it's his birthday and I'm on the opposite coast.

I gotta admit, though - being in a hotel room by myself does factor in to the relaxation. LOVE me some hotel time. Watching television, napping intermittently, reading (currently Under the Dome - scaring myself silly with some Stephen King) and getting to take the world's longest shower - those are all good things.

If I was truly relaxing, I'd have room service, a massage, a mani/pedi and something decadent for dessert, with a couple of martinis. I need to be alone or with just my husband, though - as much as I love my kiddos, I cannot relax when they are around.

What about you? How do you define true relaxation? Who factors in to your relaxation equation?

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Now…

1. Grab the button

(it’s over at Fadra's place!)

2. Write your post.

3. Link up at Fadra's place.

Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head

I went to TRX/Kettlebells today - a friend of mine is the instructor and he invited me.

It was a *great* class and I left totally drenched and exhausted. And very, very happy, for that's my favorite way to feel after exercise.

On my way to class, the sky looked very much like this:

And while we were busy sweating and cursing, the skies opened up and the rain fell. It pelted the roof and sounded quite as if it would come through at one point.

Leaving class, I was behind a very small little boy, maybe not quite 2, and his grandmother. He was properly attired for the weather, wearing the smallest little black boots and a dark blue raincoat. He was buttoned snuggly inside, hood up over his cute little face. When he saw the rain, his entire body broke out into excited wiggles. I could hear him from several feet away.

"Is WAINING! Wook!  Is WAIN!" and he ran out of the door, lifted his face to the sky, and as the rain pelted him in the face, he laughed some more.

From my vantage point behind him, I saw his grandma, who joined him in laughter. Looking around us, though, I noticed that *everyone* else was not laughing. No, people were hunched over, frantically trying to keep dry and get out of the rain post haste.It was a heavy rain, no doubt, and I really didn't have any desire to drive home soaked to the skin and shivering - but his delirium was infectious. I watched him stomp in the puddles with his grandma, giggling at the water and listened to his shrieks of excitement and I wondered -

When do we lose that love of being in the rain? Why do we hate rainy days so, so much? Other than the fact that a rainy day makes me long for a nap, why else would one dread the rainy days?

I drove home, pondering this, and soon saw my answer. In the form of a three car accident, where two of the drivers had gotten out of their cars, leaving the driver doors open into on coming traffic. They stood toe to toe, nose to nose, and screamed at each other, headless of the oncoming traffic, ready to either remove their doors or their lives as they vilified each other over a rear end collision. Fingers pointing, forehead veins popping, furiously, frantically screaming their fury.

Oh, yeah. THAT'S why we hate the rain.

That, and the fact that it makes people drive 20 under the speed limit.

How is it Thursday Already?

I know I'm getting old when I say something like this, but, for realz - where did this week go?

I have not dropped the ball on Project 366, although I have been faithfully chronicaling my days with my phone. Let's use the photos to see what I've been up to - play along as if you are interested. Please. It will make me feel so much better.