Mar 31 2013

Not Quite Ready To Grow Up

My Bye Bye Bye Baby post (here) may have been a little too premature to celebrate. I boosted about Parker’s progress in potty training, going without a pacifier and abandoning her crib all in one week. Turns out she is not exactly ready to shed her baby skin completely. Maybe it was too much too soon and once the thrill of it all was gone she decided growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be… At least I feel that way sometimes.

PJ did well in her toddler bed for several nights, maybe even a full week, with no problems. And amazingly she still called in the morning, from her room, to let me know she was up instead of charging through the door. Taking naps in the new bed became a challenge, as predicted, she petifully looked at me with her head tilted to the side reporting “I’m not tired mommy, I don’t want to take a nap.” Then as I told her she could just lay down for some quiet time then (hoping a change in the name might change her attitude), this frequently ignited a brief crockadile teared tantrum clearly insinuating the need for a nap. For days Parker was able to escape taking naps just for the simple fact of not being able to keep her horizontal long enough to doze off.

Eventually Parker began leaving her room in the morning too, discovering she could hop right into mommy and daddy’s bed when she wakes up. It was fun at first, a little bit of snuggle time before breakfast. Then morning after morning she came in earlier and earlier until our usually late sleeper was now rousing each morning at 6AM. Too tired to even calculate how we were going to curb this new behavior and determine who was going to have to adjust – her or us – then the night of doom happened.

The day was normal, the nighttime routine was normal, by all accounts she appeared healthy and content when I put her down to bed. Then two hours after she had been sound asleep she woke up crying. Daddy addressed her crying and she went back to sleep, two hours later the same thing only this time we had gone to bed and she met me at my bedside. The rest of the night was more up and down, screaming at my bedside and exhausting any idea of what could be wrong. It felt like I was back to having a newborn to care for again except this newborn sprung from bed and hopped into my face to let me know she wasn’t sleeping. We took her temperature, rocked, changed pull-ups, drank milk, laid in her bed, and tried for about an hour of the night to see if she would sleep in my bed. The night was a blur of activities, screaming, scattered sleep and no clear idea of why it was all happening.

The next day when she continued to plead for no nap she was not tired, I knew she had to be exhausted. Again, she was not cooperating with the need to stay in bed so I offered her the option of sleeping in her big girl bed or a pack and play. I offer her choices a lot of times to try to employ her to make the positive choice, she often chooses the other option to see if I will carry through with the consequence. So, out the pack and play came since the crib has been disassembled and stored away. The afternoon after the night of doom she slept a good nap in her pack and play. And since then the pack and play has remained set up in her room, next to her toddler bed and she continues to choose to sleep there for night time and naps.

Maybe it’s more comfortable to be enclosed? I don’t know why it’s her preference for now, as long as we don’t end up shipping the pack and play away to college later on I suppose we are okay.

Mar 27 2013

Red Hope

Yesterday I was thrilled to find a sea of unity on my Facebook wall in the form of a simple red equality sign. In case you’re one of the few without a Facebook or Twitter account, the equality sign has been promoted by the Human Rights Campaign in the wake of the congressional hearing on same-sex marriage. The HRC released a statement stating “the original image has been shared more than 100,000 times and created upwards of 10 million impressions in all 50 states – not including countless user-created versions.”

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Yay! It makes my heart smile to see people empowered to express their stance on a hot subject. The equality sign posted on a Facebook wall or replacing a profile picture is not a means to ignite an argument with non-supporters or demand a high level of activism which can often dissuade people from becoming involved. The equality sign was an awakening and measurable shock to congress, though more importantly an encouraging message to the gay community. The LGBT community faces discrimination and hate in ways most of us cannot relate. I hope the sea of red yesterday was a sign of support, progress and love. I also hope the volume of equality signs visible yesterday was an inspiration to non-supporters to reconsider their position.

I know I have many conservative friends on Facebook who don’t support gay marriage, and sometimes it’s bewildering to me why they don’t talk about it publicly. It’s like they want to keep their narrow-mindedness a secret, maybe deep down they know they are wrong for trying to impose their religious beliefs to control others. In stark contrast, I see so many ignorant insults being flung anonymously on forums and posts. Here is what I know for sure: The change is going to happen. So the faster the non-supporters work their way into acceptance the easier it will be for them to make the adjustment. Even better, their children can grow up accepting and loving rather than fearing and hating.

Mar 26 2013

Dollhouse Foreshadowing

My sister and I spent endless hours playing with dollhouses when we were little, I’m talking NASA astronaut training hours. Our first dollhouse was constructed by my mom from a wooden craft kit. The four room house was decorated and redecorated by painting the interior, gluing felt for carpeting and paper on the walls. We bought furniture and accessories down to potted plants, tiny picture frames, dishes and tea cups. Later we planned to add to our dollhouse neighborhood and each bought our own craft kits for additional houses. My house, like many of my master-minded projects, never got completed. I lost the directions and the beginnings of a large three-story house remained untouched in my parent’s basement for nearly 20 years. Call it divine intervention interrupting either mom’s ~~hoarding~~ reservation in throwing things out or my inability to follow-through with projects; the remaining contents in the doll house kit got wet in a minor leak in their basement and the house was finally set out on the curb.

The clean up effort lead my mom and I to rediscovering the remaining dollhouses last week. I assumed at some point I would introduce my daughter to the houses, thinking maybe when she is a little older. Two years old is too young for the fragile old wood, it doesn’t light up or make sounds like other plastic houses she’s seen, and all of the itsy-bitsy accessories to keep track of is enough to cause me an aneurism. In a few years I figured she would love the houses. Then as quickly as the dollhouses were at table level and within reach, a childhood wave of sentiment rushed over me and I couldn’t wait for her to wake up from her nap to come and play.

My mom and I sorted through the miniature time capsule of our youth, cleaning up, dusting off and discarding what was broken or not worth keeping. My sister was mighty pleased, back in the day, to use some creative skill in making her own dollhouse furniture. Foam haphazardly covered in fabric as the bed would have been fit for a dollhouse equivalent to a crack house. There were a few surprises in the excavation of the houses which ironically seemed accurate in our lives today. My sister’s house was filled with pets, including two tigers. This spring she will be completing her vet tech degree and the journey to get her there was inspired by her time working with the tigers at Endangered Animal Rescue in Citra, Florida. (Click HERE for more on that story.) My sister plans to work with a zoo veterinary department and continue her passion with big cats.

The other foreshadowing shock from our childhood houses, we found a black family. In our suburban caucasian home I can’t remember or imagine why we had purchased a black family. Perhaps my sister and I needed a way to distinguish who’s dolls belonged to each other? Were we impatient with a store who ran out of white families? Could it be my sister and I wisely saw a value in increasing the diversity in our dollhouse community? Whatever the reasoning was back then it has long since been forgotten and I’m sure my twelve-year-old self would have never been able to know she would one day fall in love and marry a black man.

With the components freshly sanitized, small accessories stored away and rooms reconfigured the houses were ready. I barely withheld my desire to wake my daughter up to come and play… Finally she arose and joined us downstairs to get her first glimpse of the hand crafted childhood treasure. Parker jumped right into investigating the pieces of furniture, opening the refrigerator, rearranging the living room, and pointing out the bird-cage. She opened the toilet seat and promptly put the little girl on it, holding the “mommy doll” near by to applaud her when she finished. Dollhouses may predict the future and when a two-year old plays it replicates her present life with plenty of potty practice.

If you are interested in having your own fun with this creative and playful hobby you can find doll house kits online or at craft stores like Hobby Lobby or Jo Ann ETC. In the Kansas City area you can check out Mini Temptations at 3633 West 95th in Overland Park, KS for a greater variety of houses, decorations, furniture and accessories you can see first hand.

Mar 24 2013

Time to Take a Stand

Political crap you don’t want to read about, right? Just hear me out. Avoidance develops ignorance and reflects as tolerance.

Guantanamo Bay is not a place I think about on a regular basis, as I am sure most American’s can relate. I know it was constructed to detain terrorists and protect the world from their lethal plots. I know there has been controversy surrounding who is actually being held there and how they are being treated. I know, and still Guantanamo Bay is not in my mind. The individuals residing there for over ten years have no face, no name and no presence in my life.

Until the other day I was struck by a news story on the radio about a hunger strike taking place at Guantanamo Bay. The story was brief, explaining several dozen prisoners had chosen to withhold eating starting back in February as a means to draw attention to the fact they have been held without trial for eleven years. Immediately it reminded me of hearing cases of men who had been farmers, cooks and drivers with nothing to do with acts of terrorism who had been sent to Guantanamo Bay. HELD WITHOUT TRIAL FOR ELEVEN YEARS. The news story reflected the government’s position as downplaying the severity of the hunger strike despite admitting eight inmates had been placed on feeding tubes due to their declining health.

I researched more on the situation going on at Guantanamo Bay and was saddened to find there weren’t many news sources reporting on it. What I was able to discover is of the 166 prisoners the majority have been participating in the hunger strike, most of them have not been tried (85 prisoners there today have been cleared for release since December 2011), and over 80% of the prisoners had not been captured by the U.S. military in combat. Of the 779 detainees brought to Guantanamo 80+% had been turned in by Pakistanis and Afghans in exchange for a $5,000 bounty provided by none other than your United States government. This means no proof, no evidence, just one man’s word over another who was in the wrong place and the wrong time to be turned in as a terrorist. My stance is not all prisoner’s at Guantanamo Bay are innocent, there are likely some who have bad intentions and justifiably should be punished. However, for those who have been captured, interrogated, locked up and not allowed an opportunity to return to their homes – it’s sickening. And this is without even mentioning the reports of beating, torture, abuse and humiliation which the U.S. denies despite claims be substantiated by other investigative agencies. This has been an eleven year nightmare I have turned a blind eye to, demonstrating tolerance in allowing this to continue.

A hunger strike by the detainees represents a means to an end of the suffering. An effort to draw attention to the injustice of criminalizing innocent people we have accepted as part of the conditions of being at war or to die and slow and miserable death by starvation. It is tragic the American people have not been offered the honest facts happening at Guantanamo. Or is it more related to our judgement and fear related to terrorism which is publicized and overshadows the terror our military has imposed on others? In either case, this has to end.

We have more to fear in the United States about violent acts of crime committed by other desperate Americans. Americans cope with poor education, sexual and physical abuse, lack of proper medical care, astronomical rates of mental illness, addictions and the inability to sustain themselves financially. We are constantly faced with situations to condition fear, anger and hatred of others. The terror is happening at home with Americans in conflict with each other, yet trillions of our tax dollars have been spent overseas to fight a war with no end in sight and to imprison innocent men at Guantanamo Bay. Our American troops are terrorized too, their lives and their families lives are forever impacted by the missions they have been ordered to carry out. Soldiers are returning home carrying the stress of fear and guilt, causing depression, addiction, violence and suicide. We are more at risk of an act of violence by an American then by an “act of terrorism” from overseas.

I’d like my tax dollars to focus on making America safe by providing for the next generation to learn to love, ensuring everyone has a proper standard of living, education is a priority, healthcare is affordable and social services are easily accessible for those who need it. Enough is enough, it’s time to take a stand.

If you agree and want to take a stand with me, please share, voice what you know to others especially when you hear someone making judgments without the proper facts. Silence is acceptance of the status quo, please don’t accept the crimes against humanity happening for the last eleven years. It’s time to release them from their suffering and to bring our tax dollars home.

Mar 23 2013

Two words, out of the blue.

Behavior is lawful, I learned this phrase when I became an instructor for Positive Behavior Support. It has been a long time since I have taught the class, however this phrase always stays with me. In short it means no behavior is ‘out of the blue,’ as we sometimes describe actions of others. Any action an individual takes is a response to something whether we are aware of it or not, the trigger could be anything in the environment noticed by our senses, a reaction to another person’s behavior or behavior can stem from a thought.

There have been many occurrences, since by daughter began speaking regularly, where I would have been caught off guard by her simple communication. Sometimes it’s while I am driving the car with her behind me in the car seat sitting peacefully observing the scenes passing outside her window when I hear the two words in her sweet high-pitched voice, “Thank you,” she says. She is very polite expressing thanks to family, friends and strangers on a regular basis; it’s the times when there is no apparent prompt for the comment I am boggled by. The comment appears to come out of the blue, except I know behavior is lawful and it must have a purpose.

I’m so curious at the thoughts in her two-year-old mind which evoked this comment. She didn’t get anything, no compliment received or favor helped. Is she thanking me for the ride, praising me for being a safe driver? Is she as appreciative to get out of the house as I am? Was she just trying to start a conversation to break the silence and these are the words others respond to? And then my mind takes me to wondering if it’s simply a thank you for being, kids are present in a way we lose as life gets more complicated. They are not congested with the volume of thoughts, opinions, data and stresses we have in our adult minds.

Without having the words to provide an explanation, I am left to imagine. Her enduring two-word expression, when the environment is otherwise silent, has developed meaning for me even when I don’t know what it means from her. It’s a reminder to focus on the present, no moment is ordinary, I need to appreciate it all.

Mar 22 2013

I hate you… Don’t leave me.

I wanted to add to a post I wrote a while back about Borderline Personality Disorder. Individuals suffering from this disorder experience the inability to regulate emotions, sometimes engage in impulsive and dangerous activities and often have extremely troubled relationships. BPD can be a result from a combination of both biological and environmental factors. There is treatment proven to be effective in improving the quality of life for those suffering and reducing or eliminating symptoms of the disorder.

For my original post about BPD please click here.

This video “Back From the Edge” is the purpose to add to my original post. You can hear first hand experience from 3 different individuals who have been diagnosed and participated in treatment. There are also doctors and clinicians to give their perspective, facts and research about the disorder. My title “I hate you… don’t leave me” came from the video as it explains the tumultuous relationships conflicting with the fear of being abandoned. Marsha Linehan states the treatment, Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, is the synthesis between the change which needs to happen with behavior and the acceptance for what situations present themselves. This means individuals with BPD begin to learn how their perceptions, which dictate their emotions, may not necessarily be a reflection of reality (really, couldn’t nearly everyone in the world benefit from this?) I thought it was valuable to view and worth sharing.

Mar 21 2013

Ha ha – I didn’t say that!

When I first started writing a blog naturally I began reading other blogs too, one of the first I started following was Breezy K’s “The Camel Life.” I couldn’t tell you exactly how I stumbled across her, since web surfing can easily take you away into clicks and connections you had never imagined. Needless to say, I have been near tears time after time from reading the hilariousness of her twenty something, professional, Canadian life. Breezy K has not only entertained me with laughter, I have learned a few valuable things along the way too.

Many people who follow my blog are friends and family, then there are connections I have made through WordPress when things are published, and finally there is the good ‘ole internet search engines. One lesson I noted from Breezy K is to check the searches to my blog to see what terms people have Googled their way to you. “The Camel Life” has been discovered through some shockingly unique search terms you can see by clicking here.

Searches to Inspired Living KC were relatively common sense and directly related to things I have written about specifically. And then there was this: my husband makes the furniture stink.

After the laughter subsided, I figured I had two choices. I could either keep it to myself or tell everyone and reinforce when someone searches this term again they will come here. Just to be clear, with 100% certainty, I have never spoken or written the words “my husband makes the furniture stink,” (until today) and while sometimes he does ~~make your nose run away screaming~~ stink I don’t remember ever thinking it was effecting the fragrance of our furniture.

I am not clear about which post was related to this inquiry or if her interest was met from reading anything on my blog. But just in case someone is searching now, first I would like to give my sincerest apologies. It must be a pretty heavy aroma to require an internet search. I would recommend purchasing some hygiene products for the hubby and some Febreeze for your furniture. If this does not suffice, consider purchasing some furniture of the plastic variety which can be taken outside and hosed down on a regular basis. Good luck.

Mar 19 2013

Bye Bye Bye Baby

Some weeks I look back and wonder, how did that happen? I had one of those weeks recently where in a mindless one activity to the next, I looked back and distraughtly noticed three major milestones conquered in days for my two-year old.

First, the adventures in potty training, I have written about them before just waiting for the momentum to really pick up and for her to grasp onto the concept. Finally it was me who committed hard-core, she wore big girl panties and a t-shirt at home most of the week. Strongly motivated by candies after successful tolieting and a rigorously timed routine of going to try about every 30 minutes she had very few wet accidents. She even stayed dry during an overnight in Nana’s bed, which after hearing about it made me panic since I had not warned Nana we were not there yet at home and she still wears diapers at night.

In the same week I assembled and painted her new big girl bed. With no plan or intention of making the transition, I just happened to have the time to work on the project. However, some days I end up being like the Mouse and the Cookie, with one step leading right into another. Before I really realized what I was doing her crib was disassembled in the basement and she was jumping up and down on her new big girl bed.

The last major milestone was a completely happy accident. I don’t feel strongly about an age where pacifiers are unnecessary for other people’s children. For my child, I felt she was old enough and still she was hanging on to them. Despite chewing off the tips of the nipples and looking completely unappetizing, she would still cry for her “baba” to go to sleep or to ride in the car. She had been warned these would be the last baba’s she would have and when they were gone, they were gone for good. I frequently asked her if her baba was broken and if she wanted to throw it away, she did throw some away and as she realized she was down to her last one she lingered over the trash can a few times before deciding it wasn’t broken enough.

One evening before bed we searched the house together upstairs and downstairs, in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, in the bathrooms and through every nook and cranny to find her last baba, it went missing. I honestly did search hard, I was nervous about her big changes and adapting to life without her baba AND being in a new bed. At the same time I was silently cheering, the unnecessarily dependent relationship with this wrecked piece of plastic was finally going to be over.

After a good long search we had a talk about the baba being gone. My two-year old melted onto the floor for a few brief seconds and then went back to being excited about her new big girl bed. She asked for a baba a few times since and calmly settled herself when we talked about how it was gone.

A few days after the baba disappeared, it reappeared under the couch where I hadn’t been able to spot it before. I hurried to it before she noticed to keep it gone for good this time.

Inspired Living KC

Inspiration can come from everywhere, you just have to slow down and notice it..

Monthly Archives: March 2013