A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Still alive. Just had way to much going on. In the matter of a few weeks, all this managed to happen:

1. I slipped and fell on our hardwood floor, knocking myself out and banging the crap out of my right hip and shoulder.
2. April jumped up and broke the bridge of my nose in the middle of Target. I had two black eyes for a week. It’s still a little sore.
3. I almost died at an ungodly, comical hour of the early morning from the most horrendous cramping I’ve ever felt. I could hardly breathe, and next to back labor, it was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. James and the kids were on a plane to Arizona, so I was alone. I debated between calling 911 and calling my friend. I called my friend. I felt far too stupid calling an ambulance for myself, even though I really did think I was probably having organ failure or SOMETHING. Our assumption is that I either had 1) an ovarian cyst rupture, 2) a kidney or gall stone pass, or 3) some kind of janckity awful reaction to one of my meds. I survived.
4. I went to Tucson for Thanksgiving and had such a wonderful time I started second guessing my choice to move away. As much as I DESPISE the weather and obscene heat and sunshine, I just really miss my family like crazy.
5. I came back to Seattle and worked my ass off in my classes.
6. I announced to the dance community that I am retiring. You saw that right: RETIRING. And furthermore, we announced that we are no longer hosting and teaching at our Friday night dance after… well, tonight.
7. My backpacking pack arrived from Amazon. That was my Christmas present from my mom, and I am SO EXCITED to pick up hiking and camping and backpacking again now that I’ll actually have weekends starting on Friday to do the outdoorsy shit that I love! What does Surprisingly Sane do in her non-dance life? I’m the thrill-seeking, rock-climbing, hiking, backpacking, traveling, adventurous person wearing a handkerchief over my head and covered with a can of bug repellant while posing for a smile in front of the ocean. I am so at peace returning to that ME.
8. James made this massive discovery that he enjoys life outside of dancing. That means, sniffle, that he actually prefers my company to that of the dance floor again. He picked up his guitar again, he’s taken an interest in hanging out with non-dancers, and he bought us tickets to see Rammstein at the Tacoma Dome. This means that he and I have been doing MUCH better than we have since dance took over as the priority in our lives several years ago, and he was relieved to be putting an end to our massive Friday night dance commitment. Long story, but that’s all you need to know to kind of “get it.”
9. Finals. FINALS. FFFIIIINNNAAALLLSSS.
10. We’ve been working a ton on getting our house prepared for the invasion of my family at Christmas- mom, dad, Kath, Scotty, and my bro… five adults under our roof. We had one guest room with a king-sized bed already that people stay in all the time, but we needed a separate space big enough for three other adults. So what did we do? We converted our dance room into an awesome study/guest room, and it is turning out great!
11. We’ve converted to pseudo-vegans. Well, in the process of. And by pseudo, I mean, I’m never giving up my leather, and it is NOT about animal activism in any way shape or form. I don’t like meat, and I’m lactose intolerant. It just makes sense to actually eat what is healthy for me rather than trying to force it. However, also pseudo because I’m not going to balk at the occasional bite of cheese, holiday dinner at some else’s house (when in Rome…), or the infrequent sushi. The majority of the time we practically eat vegan, anyway, but now we’re just moving a little further in that direction. There’s no statement here, just a minor dietary shift that you’ll probably never hear me speak of again. I’m just not the extremist sort in any matter.

Would you believe those are just the highlights? We have had so much stuff going on here that I just haven’t had the chance to sit down and blog or hardly even check Facebook in weeks. I’m not being antisocial or lazy, just… busy.

Today is my last day of my 20s. If my mathematical calculations are correct, that should mean that tomorrow, if I make it that far, I will have been on this earth for 30 years.

People joke with me about starting a new decade, asking if it bothers me. The answer is no, actually, not at all. First of all, I still get carded for R-rated movies from time to time when I’m with a group of peers, so I know that at least I still look pretty damn young. And second of all, my twenties were a god-awful piece of shit, and I’m happy to leave them behind.

That last part was a partial lie, because it wasn’t all bad. I’m just still having difficulty coming to terms with the trauma of postpartum craziness, the painful prolapse that will always be a problem unless I have surgery to correct it (even with all the physical therapy I had), and learning that I have a shitacularly severe form of bipolar disorder. Life sucks it you look at it from that perspective.

But because I’m bipolar, there’s always two sides to my story, right? (HA HA, AREN’T I AMAZINGLY CLEVER?) So today, I’m going to list of the great accomplishments of my twenties.

Ready?

During my twenties, I…

1. …studied abroad in Germany.
2. …graduated from the University of Arizona. Twice. Hooray for my higher-level education even though it hasn’t really gotten me anywhere at all (yet?).
3. …got my first job as a dance teacher (funny that that’s been a stronger skill for a job than a college degree).
4. …backpacked part of the Grand Canyon. For like five days!
5. …said “yes” to James when he proposed to me down in the Grand Canyon on that backpacking trip. (Too bad my ring was recently stolen, most likely by the only person who was in our house during that time. She completely denied it, naturally, but we’re not as stupid as we look. Remember? I have a freaking degree… see above.)
6. …married James in a super traditional, beautiful Catholic church wedding complete with a colorful Stargazer Lily bouquet and a white dress (shhhhh… we weren’t virgins).
7. …learned that the Catholic “Natural Family Planning” method is utterly retarded when I peed on a stick and learned I was having a baby just nine months after getting married.
8. …birthed two fat, healthy, beautiful baby girls!
9. …did two completely natural water births.
10. …fabulously survived one home birth.
11. …breastfed both my girls for a year despite the fact that every cell and hormone in my body hated the experience.
12. …got my second tattoo right on my hip/abdomen as a “I’m done having babies!” present to myself.
13. …signed for my husband’s vasectomy .*insert big grin*
14. …bought two houses.
15. …moved across the country.
16. …went to Hawaii a few times and visited Alaska.
17. …learned Argentine Tango and West Coast Swing.
18. …spent some time as a school teacher.
19. …gained baby weight, lost it, and a decade later… I STILL WEAR A SIZE 6 (and sometimes even a 4)!
20. …realized  that my body still looks fantastic and I’m not afraid to bust out my bikini despite having two kids.
21. …survived post partum depression. Twice.
22. …cut my super long locks off.
23. …dyed my hair for the first time. And several times thereafter.
24. …learned how to experiment with and enjoy wearing makeup.
25. …developed my own sense of fashion and style.
26. …learned to love shopping (seriously, this wasn’t a natural thing for me).
27. …sought the help and medication I need, even though it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
28. …promised myself I’d have clear skin for my 30th birthday, took Accutane… and guess what?! My skin is BEAUTIFUL!
29. …became more comfortable with who I am as an individual.
30. …realized that I really do like who I am. I’m proud of myself. While we all have our struggles, not all with bipolar disorder are able to live a relatively healthy and full life. I make that happen for myself. It’s not an easy task, but I still do it.

And there. My Kum Bai Ya moment. There’s more, of course. It’s hard to sum up one’s decade of accomplishments in a small list, but I’m leaving it to 30. One for each year.

Current Mood: Cool

I was just reading this article on Yahoo about parenting advice from professionals: doctors, nurses, teachers. I frequently find those articles nothing more than entertainment fluff, but I kind of liked this one. Here, I’ll sum it up for you:

• Don’t freak out unless your kid *actually* chops his penis off- fevers happen, owies happen, and feelings get hurt… it is NOT AN EMERGENCY unless their arm is detached from their body. Fevers- even ones pushing 104 degrees are RARELY cause for real concern.
• Expect your child to be responsible.  He/she is not a princess.
• Don’t compare your kid to other children. Who the hell cares if she mixes up her Bs and Ps sometimes while she’s still a toddler?
• Do not stick your head up your kid’s ass and adhere to their every wish, command, and whine. Have a freaking backbone.
• Stop making them a separate meal and feeding them Fruit Loops for breakfast. Offer them healthy  breakfast food high in protein with a bit of fat, not sugar and tons of carbs… kids need it. And stick the same food on their plate as everyone else gets or they can choose to go without dinner. If food is available, they will not starve to death. There’s a reason we have an obscene obesity rate in America.
• Don’t overload your kids. They do not need to dance, play soccer, take piano lessons, and learn to ride a moped all at the same time.
• READ TO YOUR CHILDREN EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Before I got laid of in the lovely state of Arizona, I was a school teacher. Yes, true story. And my advice to parents?

• READ TO YOUR CHILDREN EVERY SINGLE DAY. That is my number one. I have statistics like crazy to back that one up, and have seen amazing proof behind doing so.
• Be consistent. Kids need structure, and they love you for enforcing it.
• Be a loving disciplinarian. Hold your ground. If you have a rule, don’t bend on it. Period.

And for the record, I am absolutely not a perfect parent, nor do I think I am void of the “Moron” title. But heck, at least I see when I make mistakes, own them, and try harder the next time… and honestly, I get a ton of compliments on my girls’ behavior, personalities, and colorful vocabulary (not what it sounds like, I don’t actually cuss around them!) so I must be doing something right!

Current Mood: Cool

I know Kate Moss is supposed to be strikingly gorgeous and some kind of incredible supermodel and shit…

But I just cannot and never have seen the appeal. When I see her in magazines and billboard ads, the following comes to mind:

• she should be paying royalties to photoshop
• wonky eyes! WONKY EYES! (and wonky eyes can certainly be attractive on many people and they have never bothered me, but hers kind of do… probably because they get more wonky the more drugs she’s sniffed!)
• interesting possibility: a friend of mine many years ago was dating a big-time dealer who claimed she bought cocaine from him. Personally, I don’t know how valid that is, but wow, small world, I guess?
• WONKY EYES!
• Holy crap, she looks amazing in that ad with 5 pounds of makeup and photoshop in her pocket!
• No makeup shots: Total Plain Jane. Not a bad thing… but it also proves the power of makeup. Hey! No wonder I love makeup!
• Damn, girl looks rough.
• I’d think she looks pretty in that photo, but the black liner just emphasizes the glazed-over wonky eyes.
• You know, I dare say that if she wasn’t a supermodel, people probably wouldn’t look twice seeing her on the street.
• Overall: Round face, nice cheekbones, very photogenic. Thank God for photoshop. At least she does have a lovely smile.
• She was kind of a homely kid. I feel a little bad saying that. But makeup does wonders.
• TOO SKINNY! Cover that emaciated chest please!
• WONKY EYES!
• Really, why on earth is someone that rich from posing for pictures when really, they’re just not all that appealing? We live in a weird world.
• OMG, she has a cute little girl! I hope she has a ton of stretchmarks from being pregnant and we just never see them thanks to PHOTOSHOP.

Current Mood: Alarmed

1. Ugh, the time I felt like I *had* to tell my mom I was having sex. I was a sophomore in college, and I’d waited quite a bit longer than everyone else I knew to lose my V-card. My mom, a hard-core-wait-’till-you’re-married advocate (despite being a total hypocrite in that realm, naturally) was treating me like shit because I was dating this (older) guy that she hated. It was all she could talk about, and so finally, I admitted it had happened. What I didn’t tell her or anyone else at the time was that it hadn’t been consensual with this guy, and I was so ashamed that I just couldn’t even admit it to myself or anyone else. I never should have told her. I spent the next few years putting up her making me feel like like a dirty slut, leaving printed-up information about HIV and other STDS, and making off-color cracks about how tainted and dirty I was. Every time I think of that, I just wish to God I hadn’t said a damn word about it. I needed support for the trauma I’d dealt with, not someone damning me to hell over a mistake.
2. The morning I moved to Seattle, my dad broke down and cried when he said goodbye. Up until that point, I thought he was incapable of tears, and I was horribly shaken by his pain. If I’d known just how badly it was going to affect him, would I have dealt with moving here differently? Would I have second-guessed it? Was the move really worth the pain I was going to inflict on so many people, even though it was a better choice for us?
3. I made this demo-tape at a news broadcast station during my internship in college. I’d written this clever story, did the shoot outside onsite, and even had the clothing, hair, and makeup to play the part. Upon seeing it, I knew that I was never going to pursue a career in Journalism. I sounded like a young, immature girl, my long hair looked ridiculous, and my expressions were unconfident. Staring at my face on screen, I realized how much I hated the way I looked and sounded in this unnatural role, and there was not a chance in hell that I was marketable as a reporter. I turned away from that screen, the internship, finished my degree since I was on the last year of it, and enrolled in a post-bacclaurate program before that semester was over. I’d spent years pursuing this degree that I was unsure about from the get-go, and all it got me was this crappy demo-tape that proved to me that once again, I’d made a poor decision.
4. During my days at ballroom studios, I was hired to go on a cruise. The man who asked if I’d be his dance teacher for the trip was a kind old gentleman in his mid-80s. Had I known that I’d be trapped on a ship playing the role of escort (minus the sex- thank the Lord) for the 3-day cruise, I would have sprinted off a cliff to avoid it. It was, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable weekend of my life while I quickly learned that my role was to get as done up as possible, dress like a gold-digger, and spend the weekend on this old man’s arm while he spent money on me, held my hand, and kissed my cheek. I felt sick as the people around me glanced in my direction with smirks and I felt like my personal space was completely compromised. When I talked to my boss about the situation, I was basically told to suck it up, enjoy it, and go with it- that’s why I was hired, after all.
5. And are you ready for a good one? I saved the best for last… I once had a guy I was sort of seeing (yes, just sort-of seeing… shut up… it was a short-lived phase) ask, “How do I measure up?” when he pulled out his (dinky) peen in front of me for the first time. Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph… how do I answer something like that? You wanna know what I told him? I cared about him, so I very cooly rep(lied)… “Well, uh, I’ve seen bigger, and I’ve seen smaller (I’ve changed a few diapers in my time), so you fall somewhere in the middle. And besides, why worry about that, anyway? From what I hear it’s not the size, but how you use it that matters.” Was that so freaking incredibly kind and gracious of me, or what? (Bows and accepts Oscar). Looking back, I probably should have told him the truth… I just hope he doesn’t have a lifetime of thinking he’s hot shit and doesn’t have to work his ass off to please a woman in bed because I didn’t have the heart to be honest. Oh well. Happily, his little dick will never be my problem. Bah ha ha ha! And to be honest, I’m not sure what makes me cringe more… the fact that I saw his teeny wiener, or the fact that I lied by omission about its size.

For some reason, my mind is taking a walk through the cringe-worthy moments of my recent years today. But as much as these memories catch my attention from time to time, I think all the therapy I’ve been taking over the last two years has been truly helpful. Yes, I shudder to think of some of these, but it’s more like a minor “eek” than something that sticks with me to agonize over for hours. And at least that last one makes me laugh out loud more than anything!

Current Mood: Mischievous