tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74112825016714323302024-03-06T00:49:29.998-06:00Awkward Things My Mother Never Told MeAmber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-46961402163707857022022-09-17T21:00:00.001-05:002022-09-17T21:00:30.235-05:00Failing Or Higher Priorities - "The Talk"<p> So I'm not doing so hot on my writing and piano practice goals for this year. But I guess I technically didn't put writing on my list. So 4 out of 5 isn't bad, and I still have time to learn 1 song to still meet that goal. So I won't give up that one since I'd say the other 4 are going reasonably well. Though the stress level is an interesting one. I sense that the stress of the last 2 1/2 years have been impacting more than just me and in very different ways, and in some cases taken out on me. So I will just roll with it and keep trying to help alleviate it and put it into positive energy and positive changes at work. </p><p>So my husband has been experiencing death of classmates very recently. Which while I'm sad for him and them they had about twice as long or more than the first round of 4 I went through in and just after college. Recently this year, 2 more from my high school class were added to those tolls. The graduating class of '96 is taking a toll on the overall life expectancy and especially for women. </p><p>So he was off at a much needed funeral or celebration of life the other week spending time with people that had done some growing up since he last saw them. Which, I much prefer celebration of life and no open casket trend that seems to be happing now that we've hit middle age. While he was there I spent some much needed time with my daughter. We had "The Talk."</p><p>"The Talk" is probably not what you think it is. No she's known about sex and how babies are made for quite awhile and repeated for learning and understanding purpose. She's not quite made it to her period, but we are expecting it any day, month, or year now. No "The Talk" we had was around adults in her world and appropriate behavior. She's grown up with the annual age appropriate no one sees you naked not even friends except (now) me if she needs help, or the doctor if there's a problem we need her help with. We've even talked bluntly about the rape stories in the Bible vs gloss over what happened as was the tendency when I was growing up. But we took it to the next level and talked about how adults can 'groom' kids and gain their trust in an effort to rape them. I had a very personal example I shared with her of someone I went to school with that became a teacher and is now in jail (thankfully that was handled appropriately when found out, but should never have been allowed to happen in the first place if adults had good sense in the first place). So because of the details I know about that case I got very specific with her that a teacher should never call her or any of her classmates out to spend time alone with or or any of them except for known reasons like her piano lesson that happens at school. I shared with her that he had access to start grooming the girl he raped as early as 6th grade, which is the grade she's in this year. I also let her know that I share this not to scare her or to make her afraid of all of the teachers, pastors, and adults around her, but to enable her with the confidence to stand up for herself or to help a friend if they are ever in a situation like this that they don't know how to handle. </p><p> That's person I went to school with has probably been in jail about 9 or 10 years or so. I guess we learn and grow because thankfully background checks and regular training are now required of her teachers, pastors, and any volunteers including us parents that participate in any of her activities. However, that doesn't mean first time offenders can't slip through that process. This conversation was triggered by a DocuSeries I watched on FreeForm leading up to our weekend together called "Keep This Between Us," which reminded me of the age and timing this started with this asshole, and that she is not far off from the age of offense and certainly within the age of grooming. So it's important for me that she be on the look out and know she can talk to me or another trusted adult if something doesn't seem right. We will continue to have this talk regularly so she's aware and prepared for how to respond if she ever feels uncomfortable or has the sense that something isn't right. Better to follow her gut and be brave enough to speak up, than let herself or someone get hurt. It was a good talk and she had great questions and appropriate disturbed reactions to adults raping children. We also talked about the reverse example of Mary Kay LeTourneau so that she understands this can happen to any of her classmates. So this conversation will continue while she lives at home. </p><p>This is not a conversation I had growing up. I don't think it was less prevalent. I think it was behavior that was swept under rug, excused, or relocated. I distinctly remember being told to lock my door once when we had houseguests as a kid. However stupidly I recall being babysat by the same person at least once, so honestly it's probably a miracle that nothing happened to me. In my current life if I knew of or suspected anyone was raping or molesting a child, 1. I would report it and 2. I wouldn't associate with them to put my child at risk. I think it was thought that I wasn't pretty enough to be target. It's not about how a kid looks, it's about opportunity, and I think kids need to be educated to make sure they understand and speak up to help protect themselves and others. I pray my daughter and her friends and classmates are surrounded by upstanding adults that are truly looking out for their well-being and best interest. But she will be educated by me to keep a watchful eye and speak up, as opposed to to blindly trust all adults in her world none-the-less. </p><p>My only advice is to please talk to your kids. They are smart and can handle heavy topics. When they know you are looking out for them they will trust you. Make sure they understand the world is not surrounding them with cotton candy and cotton. Bad things happen, but they don't have to sit there and take it, they can fight back. They won't be afraid to talk to you if you respect them enough to have honest and transparent conversations with them. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-4988630225750960562022-05-01T21:05:00.002-05:002022-09-30T20:27:38.681-05:00Nostalgic Music<p>Do you have any songs that take you back to a vivid memory whether an event or time period of your life? I've forgotten about many songs that I probably regarded as favorites when I was young, but the following list of songs or albums bring back very distinct memories for me. And while some of them take me back to awful experiences, those songs provided a soothing impact to help me through life's difficulties at the time. They also take me down the rabbit hole of my brain to lead me to happy memories ultimately. And all of them help me appreciate that every day is a gift and music is a wonderful and fulfilling part of this short life we have. </p><p><b>1.</b> <b>Cranberries "Everybody Else Is Doing It so Why Can't We?," Smashing Pumpkins "Siamese Dreams," Janet Jackson "Janet": </b>These are the 3 first CD's I got with my first CD player for Christmas in 1993. My favorite song on the radio was "Linger" by the Cranberries, and well the other 2 albums had great singles playing on the radio that I also loved at the time. My parents got me the CD player and my brother bought me the CDs. They were really my introduction to album ownership of my choosing. From there I went on to love everything the Cranberries and Smashing Pumpkins put out, as well as expand my collection via the endless cycles of joining and cancelling CD club memberships to BMG and Columbia. That was the most cost effective way to purchase music at the time short of recording songs off the radio ruined by DJs talking over the beginning and end of them. I have fond memories of listening to full albums and was thankful for CD technology that allowed me to skip past the bad songs, as I quickly learned most albums were not as good as the 1 or 2 singles released on the radio. However, the great artists could fill an album with great music that never made the airwaves. </p><p><b>2. PM Dawn's "I'd Die Without You" & "Set Adrift on Memory Bliss" and Prince's "7":</b> My friend Traci and I loved these songs in high school. She would go on to introduce me to even more music to broaden my scope from the influence of my older brother's terrible taste in music. Winger and Firehouse to name a couple. Though I should probably give him credit for Metallica which I don't hold against him. Thankfully Traci helped me discover the likes of Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Neil Young, and Ozzy to name a few. But it's specifically these 3 songs that really make me think of her and probably because they are from my early days of discovering my taste in music. </p><p><b>3. Sound Garden's "Black Hole Sun" & Coolio's "Fantastic Voyage": </b>It was the summer of 1994. My parents were separated and my mom lived in a city 4 hours away. Her place of employment had a branch office near where I lived that she had transferred from. They offered a summer internship for the kids of employees. I applied and got accepted and was earning cold hard cash 40 hrs a week for 8 weeks or so. My dad dropped me off in the mornings and picked me up in the afternoons since I was a newly licensed driver and the highways of Dallas are nuts during rush hour and take some getting used to even outside of rush hour. I had my Walkman radio listening to music while working on files all day long. These 2 songs were the songs of the summer from my perspective, because they'd both play on the radio several times a day and kept me happy and distracted amongst the boring and mundane work, and during the prime awkwardness and turmoil of being a teenager. The days were long and boring, but I was earning a real paycheck. Minimum wage, but still better than what I had earned babysitting. I remember the OJ Simpson trial being on in the break room, which looking up the timeline, it must have been pre trial proceedings. There was one other girl interning that summer a year older than me, and lunch time was the only time we really interacted. She was nice, but I don't remember her name. After work my dad would pick me up from work and he'd let me switch the radio station to my music, and at least once a week or more we stopped at McDonald's for a shake on the way home. I had to switch to strawberry because chocolate had a bad metallic or chemical taste. I really enjoyed those car rides with my dad and appreciate that time with him. I'm fortunate to still have him around, but we don't connect like we did back then. I guess that's part of growing older (Cue "Landslide"). That summer was about expanding my freedom and independence as I had more spending power and responsibilities, but I was also mobile and did drive around and hang out even more with my friends. I enjoyed it all! There are no other songs that remind me of that summer so vividly, though I'm sure the radio playlist included many of my favorites. These are the two songs that brought me a sense of joy and freedom, and when I hear them to this day, remind me fondly of that summer. </p><p><b>4. Poe's "Hello" album": </b>It was during the year that should have been my Sophomore year in college. I had chosen to take a year off to go be a student missionary in Brazil. I was sick of school and going to class, there was so much drama around me, and I needed a break from it all. But I needed a purpose so that I would return to school as that was the path I was on in life, and could not envision a successful career without it. I went there without knowing anyone, but there were other student missionaries there from the US, Germany, Australia, and Denmark that I periodically met up with to travel around Brazil when we had breaks. Agape was from California. She was too cool for me in real life (at least in my mind at the time), but we had this year in Brazil in common. We all met up to go on a trip to spend a week on a tributary of the Amazon, and she shared this album by Poe with me. I loved every song on it. It spoke to the anger, frustration, and turmoil that I felt I had run away from. Even though they explicitly told us not to sign up to be a missionary to run away from problems. They were wrong and it was a defining year in my young adult life. I grew up. I learned about the world. I learned about my fortune to be born in a first world country. It gave me perspective. It sparked a love of travel for me. I gained confidence navigating the world without my parents. In fact when they visited me on separate occasions, I was their tour guide and translator. It taught me the I can always keep learning whether through study or from those around me. I bought the CD as soon as I returned and I love this album to this day even if I don't listen to it as much. </p><p>The world I returned to had moved on, but those problems I ran from also moved on from me, and the next 3 years of college came with many wonderful and tragic experiences. But this was the defining year that helped prepare me and give me the courage needed for life. I highly recommend a year abroad for young adults before you settle down. For me it led to another summer in Brazil right after I graduated and then a year abroad in Italy a couple years after college to obtain a graduate degree. Don't rush into marriage and parenthood before you've given yourself time to discover who you are and how you want to live your life. That is what this album reminds me of. And if there's one song from it that I take away from it as the 'one song,' it's "Beautiful Girl." The whole album reminds me of that year, but that song is the culmination of the person I like to think I became. </p><p><b>5. White Lion "When the Children Cry": </b>This is about my friend Kandy. She was one of my very best friends. We met in high school and became fast friends and hung out with everyone that was too cool to fit in with the 'popular' kids. We had many adventures together throughout high school and into college specifically around this song. It was her favorite song. I'm don't remember why, but think it had something to do with either her mom or dad. She was raised by her grandparents and that is who's house I spent many hours and nights at. Anyways on any occasion we were at the mall and or near a store that sold music, we would look for the CD that contained this song. We always went in with low expectations, because we'd become accustomed to striking out. This was obviously before the days of getting on Amazon or Ebay to buy whatever the hell you want. One Saturday night we were in a book store, and decided to go back and check out their music section since we'd not been to that one yet. She hit the jackpot that night as there was one copy and she instantly snatched it up. Perseverance had finally won out!</p><p>She was tragically killed in a car accident at the end of my junior year in college. She was much too young. Her younger sisters were in town with her mom making arrangements with her grandparents, and they asked me about music to play. I told them the story of looking for this album and that this was the song she wanted played. Ironically we'd gone though a discussion of planning our funerals, and she had a much more extravagant one planned that included limo hummers and I believe shooting her ashes off in fireworks. When this song played at her funeral, I didn't realize just how fitting it would be. But I have such vivid memories of her and our many adventures in addition to looking for this album that come to mind when I hear this song. </p><p><b>6. Neil Young "Cortez the Killer": </b>This song also takes me back to Kandy's death. I was numb. I was sad. I didn't want to be alone. Thankfully I had some wonderful and concerned people that did reach out to call and talk with me and keep me surrounded during that time leading up to her funeral. I didn't know what to do but go to classes and work, but I was literally non-functional and put professors through some serious bear trap moments including one professor who sarcastically walked by and said 'oh get a room' while a male friend of mine was hugging me while I was balling my eyes out. But he missed that part. One of my other really good friends actually worked for him, and I went into his office after class to talk with my friend who had explained why I was actually hugging someone for longer than a second. I'm not and haven't ever been a huge hugger, but am emotionally intelligent enough that I can do so when appropriate. My professor profusely apologized to me for his callous comment to me, which I didn't hold against him. It was one of many teaching moments for me that remind me that I need to always consider that I might not know what someone I interact with is dealing with that day, week, or month, and that they could maybe use a little grace from me. </p><p>My friend Traci was my rock that week. We are thankfully still friends to this day. She kept me distracted at work, and talked me into taking some time off work and hanging out at her aunt and uncle's pool. She also invited me to stay at her apartment with her so I didn't have to be alone at night. One night we drank a bottle of wine and watched the movie "With Honors" I believe and balled our eyes out. In the morning she would put music on, and one morning she put on a Neil Young CD and this song came on. It played while I layed in bed waking up not wanting to get up because I didn't know what and how to do that day. It was a beautiful and moving song to me and for some reason brought me a sense of peace in spite of the topic of the lyrics. But I have always been attracted to music first and lyrics sometimes. This is the song I would listen to on the anniversary of her death for many years to come and reminds me of all the people that loved me through that tragic experience. </p><p><b>7. Garbage's "I Think I'm Paranoid": </b> Kandy introduced me to the Version 2.0 album and I love every song on it. "Special" was my favorite song for the longest time as it described many dating interactions I had in college. However, "I Think I'm Paranoid" takes me back to a night in college that I was going out with Traci and some other friends. I do believe it was my senior year. I don't remember if we went to a concert or if we went dancing or what. But I was at her apartment and she put this album while she was getting ready. This song came on and I felt inspired to pick up her bass guitar, turned on her amp, and starting figuring out the bass line of the song because it was so perfectly pronounced for me to pick it up. I didn't and still don't play the bass, but when I starting playing the piano when I was young, I had a knack for playing by ear after the teacher played through new songs for me. So much so, that she stopped playing them for me to force me to learn to read the music. I'm convinced to this day that ruined my musical desire and potential because it became a chore to practice. Anyways back to Paranoid, I did a good enough job playing along that Traci even commented on it and for a brief moment in time I felt like a cool musician! </p><p>There is my list and associated memories. What's yours?</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-79388479677860962742022-03-13T17:09:00.002-05:002022-03-13T17:09:10.536-05:00The Day-Light Savings Lobby & 2022 Goals Check In<p>I feel like I have an inner grumpy old man inside me that comes out to shake my fist and complain every time there's a day-light savings change of the clocks. I mean how long are we going to keep complaining about this and what big money lobby is preventing federal or state legislation to stop it? I mean I really want to know who is for keeping the twice yearly changes so much that it goes nowhere in congress. It seems like an easy thing to get bi-partisan support for that someone could then tout as working well with the other side to get things that matter done when it comes time for re election. </p><p>Am I wrong? </p><p>We all know by now that farmers don't care about clocks. They farm when they need to farm, so it never did, nor does it now have anything to do with farmers. So if the consensus is that we want sunlight later in the day, then just don't end daylight savings. Leave it there perpetually and stop changing back and forth like Michael Scott's vasectomy. Snip Snap Snip Snap. It's time to end the madness!</p><p>I really need someone to follow the money and blow the whistle on the day-light savings lobby, because I don't understand why we have made it to the middle of my life and things are so bad in politics that people can't work together on what should be little easy wins. What do we have to do to get that done? Start a petition?</p><p>If someone wants to explain to me the hyper partisan reason on both sides why 'we' can't get along and get this done, please tell me. Otherwise put aside the bigger reasons you choose not to have real discussions to solve issues, give peace a chance, and start with this one little thing. Can't we all just get along?</p><p><b>By the way, here's an update on my goals for 2022 as a way to hold myself accountable:</b></p><p>1. Personal growth - <span style="color: red;"><b>Going well (Generic goal gets equally generic status update)</b></span></p><p>2. Keep Learning - <b><span style="color: red;">Definitely doing this</span></b></p><p>3. Take more time off work - <b><span style="color: red;">I've taken more PTO by this time this year than I did the last 2 years and I have a few days already on the books planned for the next month including one this coming Friday!</span></b></p><p>4. Get my stress level back to a healthier level - <b><span style="color: red;">I see a light at the end of the tunnel, but definitely still working very hard on it, including a little on a Sunday </span></b></p><p>5. Practice the piano more/learn at least one new song - <b><span style="color: red;">I bought a piano book of Enya songs and working on a couple of favorites. They are easy but so what. </span></b></p><p>Have a great day, week, month, and be kind to each other, to strangers, and to yourselves!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-48200829655937860312022-01-31T19:19:00.001-06:002022-01-31T19:19:37.193-06:00Cussing, Cleaning, & Tattoos; Awkward Conversations with my Father<p> My parents got divorced when I was in high school. It still affects me to this day as a middle aged adult, which is another post for another time. I moved out the minute I graduated high school. Or more accurately my dad got remarried and moved out on me a month before I graduated. So I've pretty much lived on my own with various levels of roommates since then. I had moments of short term renting a room for free from them during and after college, but very temporarily in an effort to save up money to go live abroad for awhile. </p><p>My dad and I had a very good relationship when I was that age for the most part. I lived with him after the divorce and he only got mad at me when I failed to call and check in with him past curfew, even though I was out with my older brother. This was when cell phones were emerging so we didn't have them yet, but there were home phones and pay phones galore that I could have used. </p><p>So back the title of the post. My dad did NOT teach me to cuss. In fact cussing was more likely considered a sin in my house growing up. However when your parents commit the mortal sin of divorce, well you can always keep that in your back pocket to throw that in their face when convenient. I got a job waiting tables my senior year of high school thanks to my brother. And that is where and when I really learned to cuss like a sailor. When no one shows up to work for a shift and 3 of you are left to wait on the whole restaurant, and it's slammed, and the kitchen manager is a bitch to you, well you learn how to cuss pretty quickly to manage through the stress. This was back in a time when they didn't not seat open tables just because people didn't show up for work. You just did the best you could and the manager rolled up his sleeves to help and we powered through it and made good money. F yeah!</p><p>Well I started slipping up around my dad during college and he thought it best to warn me that my potty mouth wasn't attractive and I'd have a hard time finding a husband. Joke was on him, because I married a kick ass man that loves me and my potty mouth. And he's a pretty f-ing hot good cusser too! I've slipped up enough around my daughter that I'm very self-aware that I'm the one likely teaching my her how to cuss. She's not learning it at school. For now she knows not to say that at school or teach her friends how to cuss. She has been open enough to tell me when she has overheard some of her friend's older brother's friends cuss and ask about it. </p><p>Then there was the time that my dad came by my apartment in or after college, and I was busy and it wasn't very picked up. But I went over to other people's places, they didn't come by my place. He awkwardly told me I was going to have a hard time finding a husband if I didn't learn how to keep things picked up. But the thing is I wasn't searching for a husband at that time in my life so I didn't really care. I knew when I was ready to settle down, I could pick up after myself so as not to scare the right man off. I think my dad thought I was a slob, but my place never smelled like my brother's stinky feet closet, so there was nothing dead or decaying underneath my mess. Thinking back, I'm not sure why he was preoccupied with my ability to get a husband. I was in no rush and not a drain on him any more than he'd signed up for. </p><p>Now on to tattoos. When my brother was a freshman in college he asked my dad about piercing his ear to which my dad responded that any and all financial support would be cut off if he did. Even though at the time he was going to school on loans that I guess my dad co-signed for but that was it. The debt was still my brother's. My brother liked to say shocking things for a reaction, not actually do them. So I learned that you don't run things past dad that you know he'll disapprove of. So I got a tattoo in a reasonably well hidden spot and kept it hidden pretty well until the one day when I accidentally exposed it and someone else saw it and ratted me out to him. He got pissed, and made some kind of comment referencing what he told my brother. I don't remember my exact response, but that's probably when I pulled out 'you got divorced and then moved out on me before I graduated high school, so if this is the worst thing I do or that happens to me, then you are f-ing lucky as a parent.' And we never spoke of it again. Because he witnessed the tragedy that became of one of my best friends. He watched the struggles some of his friends have been through with their kids. He's still an f-ing lucky parent in spite of my cussing, cleaning challenges, and tattoo, and he knows it. </p><p>Anyways I share this because 20 plus years later in hind sight they are funny memories to me and I know he was looking out for me and wanted the best for me at the time. But with each passing year of my young adult life, he gained new perspective that he wasn't expecting to gain. I know he's proud of the person I've become and thankful that me and my tattoo are still around to have more awkward conversations. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-23631484113175330832022-01-02T15:19:00.001-06:002022-01-02T15:19:15.605-06:00New Year New Goals<p>Another day and new year gifted to me in this life, for which I am grateful. My personal goals for this 2022:</p><p>1. Personal growth</p><p>2. Keep Learning</p><p>3. Take more time off work</p><p>4. Get my stress level back to a healthier level</p><p>5. Practice the piano more/learn at least one new song </p><p>No plan for how to achieve them yet, though some cases I just have to make a decision in a moment to take a day off work, to sit down at the piano and play, to find something new to learn about, to take a deep breath and choose to bite my tongue. Others may truly require more deliberate actions and back up support to go forth and achieve. In the case of number 5, if I don't call it out separately, it is not likely to happen. </p><p>There it is. Specifically generic. And in some cases accomplishing one may also accomplish another. You may think that's cheating, but I couldn't care less. It's my life and they are my goals. You can make whatever rules you want for your goals or resolutions for the new year. Or you can choose not to set any at all, and I will practice my first goal, and love you anyway and not give you my opinion unless you ask for it. </p><p>Happy New Year and may 2022 be Merry and Bright for you!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-50034154294176605232021-12-04T18:33:00.007-06:002021-12-04T18:35:17.112-06:00Hell Hath no Fury (Or Strength) Like a Toddler in a Car Seat<p>When I dusted off this blog, one of my intentions was to fill in some of the gaps of experiences between 0 and 10 of raising a child for the first and only time. One that my mother did not warn me about was the car seat prison so despised by the freedom loving toddler. This is probably because car seats were in the early stages when I was a baby and not likely nearly as effective at restraining a child as they are now. </p><p>My daughter came out with early indications of being a highly independent girl, which I was very happy about. She was walking around at 8 months, albeit a bit wobbly and not without many opportunities to teach her that she was 'tough' and didn't need to cry when she fell down, or bumped her head. Though there was that one time that she earned a big cry and my parenting might be judged as questionable by some for not rushing her to the ER. However the internet and the book I had confirmed they'd just monitor her and gave me signs to watch for. So I monitored her for those concerning signs and made sure she was still functioning normally, and she turned out fine. But I digress. </p><p>The bigger and more mobile she got, the less she liked being strapped into her car seat for long periods of times. It made her cranky to the point that we avoided trips longer than a just a 2-3 hours away for quite awhile. And we also accepted that if they were longer, we'd have to go slower to let her get out and run around for a bit. </p><p>It got to a point where we had many fights trying to get her strapped in. She was a strong little thing too. She would stiffen up straight as a board, which is not how car seats are shaped, and fight me with every ounce of strength in her little body. Which by the way, surprised me that it greatly exceeded mine in these moments of desperation. All of this came with screaming bloody murder as if she was being abused. Manipulative little bugger! This horrified me in big public parking lots with people walking past usually pretending not to notice as no one ever came over and checked on the situation. There were a few times we cried together in frustration for 15-20 minutes until her strength was worn down to a level that I could safely overpower her and get her strapped in. I remember wishing that it should just be left up to survival of the fittest, so that I didn't have to have that fight on a routine basis. I mean car seats didn't always exist. I would have been happy to let her play on the floor in the backseat to avoid the whole scene now and then. </p><p>Not only did my mother not warn me about this, no one did! They don't teach you anything about what really happens when you choose to bring a child in the world and raise it. It's not all cute and fun. Which I knew that going in. I just really didn't know a car seat was going to become the bane of my existence as mother. To this day that was the worst for us so far, so I can't really complain as there are many worse things that some parents have to go through with their toddlers and children. I'm just putting this here for my memory and for those that might want to prepare themselves mentally for what comes when fiercely independent toddlers begin to fiercely despise the car seat. We turned her around as soon as we could, and graduated her out of it into a booster as soon as she reached the borderline minimally recommended size. Which was early compared to some kids we know that were just as content as could be in their 5 point harness turned backwards. </p><p>Now she sits in the front seat and loves it! She's still as independent as ever, but has greatly matured in how she exerts it, which makes it all worth it to control yourself, take a step back, and slow down as needed when they are toddlers. Even if that means sitting in a parking lot for a half hour. There's a light at the end of the tunnel. Unless you keep having kids. Then it's just compounded for years and years until finally the last one gets there! </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-32183137968298361372021-11-28T14:21:00.002-06:002021-11-29T17:48:43.883-06:00My Only Child is Not Spoiled - Privileged Yes - But Not Spoiled<p>I have an only child. A daughter if you've not read previous posts of mine. I have friends and peers that have or planned to have only one child, so in my world it hasn't been that big of a deal to proclaim that decision to others. And I've not received many comments related to having only one that I recall. But it could be that I and we don't really care if someone disagrees with that decision, because it's really none of their business anyways. However some that I know have heard many unsolicited comments about the decision to have one including their child is or will be:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Lonely</li><li>Selfish</li><li>Antisocial</li><li>Spoiled</li><li>Bossy</li><li>Dysfunctional</li><li>Won't know how to share</li><li>Won't work well with others</li></ul><div>I only had one only-child stereo-type mentioned to me that pissed me off, however I bit my tongue. It was a new colleague who came to talk business in my cube many years ago when my daughter was still young. She saw the picture I had up of my family and asked if she was an only child to which I affirmed. And she said 'oh she must be spoiled.' I'm pretty sure I gave her a confused look as it seems a pretty bold conclusion to draw about a child you've never even met. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I've grown up and gotten further out from it, I honestly don't think she meant it with mal-intent or as a shot at our parenting as compared to hers or others with multiple kids. She just didn't think that how she phrased it comes across as a negative shot at such a decision. I think she probably meant it as we spend more time and money on her since we don't have other kids to spread it out on. Which is true, but doesn't equate to raising a spoiled kid. But she made a statement without knowing that we:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>tell her no</li><li>considered that we would have to teach her to think about others</li><li>take the time to demonstrate thinking about others as a value worth putting time an effort into. </li><li>consider a budget for Christmas and birthdays </li><li>participate in efforts to be generous to those less fortunate so she understands that she is indeed privileged </li></ul></div><div>I myself came from an upbringing where I was the youngest of 2. My husband is on the younger half, but in the middle of 7 kids. So we were both very well aware of the nonsense and/or chaos that comes with growing up with one or more siblings. When we decided to have only one, we didn't make that decision lightly or without research. We actually realized that we'd have to make more effort than we might normally like to ensure she has social interaction outside of the normal school schedule and year. Honestly this is probably a good thing for a couple that is 1. introverted and 2. extraverted but borderline introverted socially. This means we end up hosting her friends at our house more than other parents host her. But honestly we don't always know her friend's home situations and so we are more than happy to have them over for lunch and and afternoon of fun. When I think back to the parents (particularly the moms) that hosted me during my turbulent high school and college years, I'm incredibly grateful for them allowing me to dominate time at their homes with my friends. They taught me so much about who I want to be as a mom to my daughter's friends going through the same tough times I did as a kid. </div><div><br /></div><div>She is on the other hand incredibly privileged in the following ways:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>She was born in a rich and free country relative to much of the world.</li><li>She has parents who love her dearly and don't want to screw her up.</li><li>She doesn't have to share a room.</li><li>She doesn't have a sibling to break her toys.</li><li>She doesn't have a sibling to fight about everything with including not crossing the center line in the car.</li><li>She was born to parents who can provide food, shelter, and private education for her.</li><li>She was born to parents willing to move her across the country to provide her opportunities within their value system that she didn't have just a few short years ago.</li><li>She was born to parents who can afford to make sure one of us is currently at home for her and can take her to various activities that she likes to participate in. This wasn't always the case for her.</li><li>She was born to parents that believe vacations should include her and they don't mean only going to visit grandparents.</li><li>She was born to parents that can and do teach her the value of a dollar and how to manage money including expenses, charity to those you don't know, and generosity towards those you care about and love.</li><li>She was born to parents who know their limits. Even when that means telling her No!</li></ul><div>We have very much thought about the fact that when we are old and decrepit, that she won't have a sibling to share that stress with. We both can currently talk to our siblings about the stresses that come with our parents aging or other frustrations that come with that. However, we are doing our best to make sure that we are not a financial burden to her. My own personal worry is that I will do or say something to screw up her desire to be part of our lives when she is an adult. That concern is what reminds me to own up and apologize to her when I've been an unreasonable hardass. Plus I have a wonderful husband that isn't afraid to call me out when I need it. I also think of these times as opportunities to show her I'm not a perfect parent/adult and it's ok and important to own up to and learn from mistakes. </div><div><br /></div><div>We are trying to do our best just as reasonable parents who choose to have a heard of children generally try to do their best. She's privileged yes, but not spoiled. My dog on the other hand, completely spoiled!</div></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-61689075786381105252021-11-20T18:50:00.001-06:002021-11-28T14:44:09.473-06:00Metaverse, Reality, or Twilight Zone<p><b>Proceed with caution. The thoughts below are my own opinions, and in this highly volatile and political climate we find ourselves in these days, I'm sure it will be offensive to some.</b></p><p>I don’t know about you, but I sometimes miss the good old days before the internet. Some days I'm not so sure we aren't living in the Twilight Zone. </p><p><span color="inherit" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">We live in a world now where you can create your own reality. Facts are whatever you believe and anyone that disagrees with you is a sheep deceived by fake news. You can find anything on the internet to support your version of the facts since someone put it out there it must be true. They don’t have to present legitimate credentials, experience, or expertise to back up anything they say. They just have to say it, post it, and suddenly it’s true and any evidence counter to it is just false. </span><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This is our new reality, or thanks to Facebook, the new ‘Metaverse’ we live in. While Mark Zuckerberg wants you to think of the Metaverse as something different from Facebook where you essentially have an avatar and can go have fun around the world from the comfort of your own home for a fraction of the cost, we have been living in alternative reality for years and years now thanks to Facebook. The pandemic has just amplified it since people somehow had nothing better to do with their time than fall into the Internet abyss.</span></p><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">People are now morally conflicted about a vaccine because of the unsubstantiated 'research' they have found to support their created reality. They are no longer morally conflicted about what’s best for the greater good of society and those most vulnerable in it. A public health issue has been politicized, and so we can only get into a self-righteous argument about which stance is morally superior if we are to discuss it. They aren’t antivax in their version of reality because they have all their childhood immunizations and so do their kids. They just need more time to feel comfortable, and thank God they didn't hit the death lottery when they or their kids actually got Covid that one time. Followed by 'thoughts and prayers' for those that have lost a loved one, or more fake news they were all going to die anyway. They have ‘done their research’ even though they don’t have the training, expertise, jobs, or resources to actually ‘do the research.’ But the people that do can't be trusted and are just lying or publishing altered results in order to push something that is 'unnatural' on us. For a purpose that still hasn't ever been articulated to me. Meanwhile there is nothing ‘unnatural‘ about ingesting a pharmaceutical at the advice of Joe Rogan or other blow hards on tv or radio, none of whom have any training, experience, or expertise in pharmaceuticals or medical science. They are instead patriots standing up for freedom and being persecuted for it. Now in the face of vaccine mandates, they are morally conflicted about whether to support their families or stand by their convictions and leave their jobs. Providing for one's family is not something anyone should be morally conflicted about. And I don't know if it is a truly a useful exercise for those that are able to work from home and don't have to interact with the public given all of the misinformation polluting the Internet right now along and the inability to by many to cut through the clutter. Most weren't taught about discerning nonsense on the Internet in school. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Let me tell you what is real. I work in corporate America now (not for Facebook/Meta) and many of my colleagues in my division were just fired, laid off, told they didn’t align with organizational changes that were taking place. Six months earlier they were told the new boss coming in was told it wasn't a rebuild or division that needed to be fixed. Five months later after an assessment period, in a matter of hours our lives are changed forever. There was never any opportunity to discuss if there was a good fit for any of them tha</span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">t made sense in the new structure. </span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">To make matters worse my impacted employees told me when they received the news. This shook me to my core. I didn’t know it was coming. My boss didn’t know it was coming. And yet we survived what I can only describe as a blitzkrieg attack, the likes of which I have not experienced before now. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">That is real. I saw it happen. HR didn’t help or advise me or others how to address what happened with our surviving team members. I didn't know when they were hit if any of the others were next. I was called to a meeting that basically laid out the new structure and confirmed it was over. That was when I found out how many were impacted and it was many more than I had even heard about to that point. I called my surviving team together and broke down in front of them as I shared the news and told them I had no clue, and how I felt like an ass for trying to allay any concerns or fears only the day before advising them to treat rumors as just that. I apologized for how this happened and went down. I apologized for not maintaining composure. </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I got the crass emails from the system at the end of the day to go over the termination checklist to transfer data etc. from them. Their system access was cut off well before that could be done because one of them tried. I told them not to worry about it. Those emails were followed by the system emails that their terminations were ‘successfully completed.’ A termination that neither my employees nor I had initiated. So those words are ironic, callous, and robotic for such a traumatic event. It happened to them. It happened to others. It happened to me. </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /></div>I’m still trying to provide for my family. And I am now living with survivor's guilt because I am genuinely relieved I didn’t lose my job. I am grieving for those that did. <span color="inherit" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">I will return and I will support and participate in the rebuild, until a I have an exit strategy or alternative offer, because I have a family to support. I don't have to agree with how it was executed to support the future. </span><span color="inherit" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">This is real and this is hard. But I have no delusion that I should ever feel comfortable as I watch the top leaders make moves that serve their future positions at the expense of average everyday grunt workers and low level managers that live paycheck to paycheck. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I also live in a reality where my second X chromosome is considered weak because I got emotional. Sure I had my game face on in the meeting with leadership that I was summoned to, but not with my team, and I should have handled it like the Y chromosome would. I live in a reality where, thanks to a form a feminism I don't subscribe to, those that came before me said we are the same as or better than men. Indeed if we want to be men by all means we can turn ourselves into them and our 'dreams will come true.' They chose that route rather than fighting for equality where it matters and celebrating the strengths we each (XX & XY) bring to the table and embracing the differences that come with the 2nd X chromosome. We are expected to be stepford wives, stepford mothers, and stepford leaders all at the same time. They created an expectation that is impossible to live up to if you want to join the ranks of executive leadership in the work place. And for those that actually do, they are royal bitches that lack empathy and compassion. So you're either weak or a bitch, and it is possible to be a weak bitch. But you can never be a great or even good enough leader, because let's face it, that's still men's work first and bitches work second, all others need not apply. Depending on your perspective or maybe upbringing, one is better than the other. This is the world I'm trying to raise my daughter in. I hope she never feels compelled to apologize for what comes with her second X chromosome, or that she somehow handled a situation poorly because of what came naturally with it. <span color="inherit" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">I'm optimistic that as the pendulum swings, she will have an experience better than mine, and gracefully contribute to a better experience and work environment for the women and men that come after her. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Finally I live in a reality where "Me Too" cherry picks some bad behavior and gives passes to others. As long as Q (or is it god?) ordained them to save the world from all the evil in it, then their "Me Too" behavior gets a pass. Also this person suddenly cares deeply for the average person in spite of the fact that his business and personal actions demonstrate he only cares about himself. I was taught that actions speak louder than words, and I still believe that. </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Metaverse. I just have one question Mark Zuckerberg, when your vision for the Metaverse is realized, is it still rape if it happened there? </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">For those that once had or still have identity in Christianity, your (our) religion has been hijacked. Though since history repeats itself, this certainly isn't the first time. The Bible is full of wisdom about not being deceived (Mathew 24, Mark 13, and Luke 21). It also says the two greatest commandments (Matthew 22:36-39) are: </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span> </span>1. To love the Lord your God with all you heart, soul, and mind. </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span> </span>2. To love your neighbor as yourself. </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Notice it doesn’t say to love yourself first then them. And if you’re unclear on who your neighbor is, go watch the documentaries on Mr. Rogers. He understood it well and taught it to many of us. </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Bible also says pure and undefiled religion is to care for widows, orphans, and strangers (also known as refugees and qualify as your neighbor) (Matthew 25:31-46 and James 1:27 among others). </div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You don't have to be a Christian to find these to be good principles to live by, or to find resources other than the Bible that teach these principles. If 'we' spent as much time learning and living these principles and less time with cultivating passion and distress caused by own personal self involved Metaverses, maybe, just maybe this world can be a better place for you and for me in the few short years in our lifespans that we have left on it. How do you want to be remembered?</div><div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-42176128266620021842021-10-05T20:04:00.000-05:002021-10-05T20:04:40.438-05:00What's In A Name?<p>Before our daughter came along, I naively thought I had 100% naming rights, particularly for a girl. Because my mother didn't teach me otherwise. Obviously! So much so, that in college I got a tattoo and justified it as for my future daughter if I had one. And because my future husband, whom I hadn't met yet, would LOVE the name! Again Obviously! I have no regrets, but I have a tattoo of a daisy and no daughter or even dog to date to call Daisy Sunshine. My daughter is aware that I wanted to name her that, and I sometimes call her Daisy Sunshine, which she emphatically says "NO! that's not my name!" It will always be your name in a parallel yet alternative dimension or universe where your father agrees with my tattoo. </p><p>Naming a child is such an awesome responsibility. You can set them up for years of teasing with the wrong name or the wrong set of initials. You could potentially set them up for prejudgment on an resume that might cause them to get weeded out from getting an interview. You could inadvertently rub salt in a friend's fresh wounds by choosing a name they had chosen for their baby that didn't survive. A word of advice for you young, immature, awkward types. Even if they didn't offer the information, don't ever be afraid to ask your friend if they'd picked out a name after they suffer such loss. It might better show you care, than delicately tiptoeing awkwardly around their pain and grief. </p><p>Before we had confirmation we were having a girl, we started talking names, and it was then that my husband established unlimited veto power that either of us could exercise for any name for any reason. We came up with two lists, one for boys and one for girls, simply because it's kind of fun to talk names. You learn more about your spouse in these conversations too. I'm pretty sure we settled on Colby Jack for a boy, however, I know my husband would tell you he vetoed the Jack part of the name because our son could not be named that intentionally for cheese. However since we didn't have a boy, I can maintain whatever story I want, and I'm sticking to it!</p><p>When we got the news we were having a girl, the conversation blew up. We went through so many names followed by an interrogation whenever either one of us would exercise a veto. However neither of us were ever satisfied with each others explanations. But a veto is a veto, and you either respect the rules or create unnecessary chaos before even bringing a child into the world. And let me tell you, I kept trying to put Daisy back on the table over and over, and he never waivered. I still don't understand it to this day, but you don't have to understand a veto. To be clear there was no disagreement over passing along my middle name to her. He was on board with that from the beginning. </p><p>We narrowed it down to our top two names and didn't make a decision until we checked into the hospital and they wrote her name on the board. While we liked both names, we thought one was more classic than our second choice and there was no further discussion. We both knew by then which one we wanted. Now if I'd had the privilege of hindsight, and bothered to be a good friend, her name would be Piper Sunshine. Which let's be honest, is almost as cute as Daisy Sunshine, but not quite. </p><p>The only other discussion we had to settle on was the spelling of her name since there so many ways to spell her name. I let my husband's logic win out because in the end it was the pronunciation I cared about. His rational was that Madelyn was the simplest and most obvious way to spell her name. Well the joke is on him, because people still spell it Madeleine, Madelynn, Madeline first. Even after I spell it correctly, many people will still misspell it back to me. So that will never end and it is what it is. That makes them awkward not me. </p><p>All that to say it generally takes two to pick a name. And it should never take more than two. Just make sure to check the initials to avoid initials like FAT, MFR, BUT, PIS and others. And make sure the full name isn't something like Ima Hogg or Richard Head. The internet is full of information, you can always test it there to see what comes up to save your child from being the butt of jokes through out school, and good laughs in Human Resource offices through out adulthood. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-85037261662073991842021-09-24T18:45:00.000-05:002021-09-24T18:45:14.525-05:00Out of the Darkness - American Foundation for Suicide Prevention<p>Some of you may be aware and have contributed to my community walk and fundraising efforts for this cause and organization in the past. I'll start with how I got involved. </p><p>I have a friend Beth, whom I worked with in Texas before we moved. Beth and I worked together for awhile and bonded over our shared love for crack cookies (you know the kind you buy at the grocery store that are white with the thick colorful frosting on them). On top of that she and her husband were married on my birthday (day not year), and our husbands shared a first name. The icing on the cake was that we are both hilariously funny and found each other entertaining and a spot of joy to make our work life more enjoyable! </p><p>A little over 5 years ago the unthinkable happened to her husband while she was returning home from a trip. Since then she has focused some of her time and energy leading a valiant effort to get involved with this organization that has a goal to reduce the suicide rate by 20% by 2025. She participates in and leads a team in the Austin walk every year in memory of her husband and his struggle. Her team's name is The Jay Walkers, and this year's walk will be on October 23. I still walk with and support her fundraising effort from afar. If you are looking for a worthy cause, I'd like to encourage to to directly contribute to her effort and learn more about her story. I admire her grit and the fact that she is making a difference in this world beyond her efforts for this organization! If you are interested in getting more involved, you can use the below link to get to the organization including how to find events in your local community. We both thank you for your thoughtful consideration and contributions!</p><p><a href="https://supporting.afsp.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donordrive.participant&participantID=2422339" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: georgia;"><b><span>Click here to Donate and help Beth double or triple her 2021 goal!</span></b></span></a> </p><p>Now the part of the post I really struggled with. I personally don't and haven't struggled with suicidal thoughts, however I have had a former teacher and acquaintances from my past not survive theirs. I have friends and acquaintances who have lost family members and friends to suicide. The truth is, we've all have a family member, friend, teacher, or acquaintance that either struggled with various degrees of depression some to the point of ending their misery. It's possible you just don't know it yet. Some of those people will struggle their entire lives. What I will say is that mental health has not been treated well in this country. And while we've made progress in some ways, it's clear over my lifetime that mental health has become a much more common issue that we are almost indifferent or calloused when we hear or read news stories that result in the end of more lives and more beds being filled in prisons and mental health facilities. </p><p>It's so easy to say it's because 'we've' become so inwardly focused as humanity vs thinking of ways we can be of service to others. I could also add that we are so inwardly focused that 'we' don't care what our friends, neighbors, co-workers, classmates, or stranger in the next lane may be going through when they are not around us. All that matters to us is what we are going through and they should give a damn about us. We shake our fists, flip people off, or blurt out nonsense to them because they've said or done something to us that hurts us or makes us mad, and we must have the last word or action. The reality is as medical science advances we are learning more and more about conditions, side effects of head trauma, pharmaceutical side effects, or other things in the brain that can cause someone to logically get to suicide, being the only solution. And we don't think twice that someone we interact with just might possibly be on the brink of getting there, or that our next words or actions to them could impact their next decision one way or the other. </p><p>What if instead we approach everyone we cross paths with compassion, assuming that there is something in their life that they are struggling with that very day or moment, and that they could use a break from us in that very moment? What if every time that devil on our shoulder tempts us to get irritated with the other party for not being considerate or compassionate to our personal struggles, we slapped it off our shoulder and instead offered to lend that person an ear or a hand? What if we chose positivity when we feel most negative towards those around us?</p><p>I ran across a very interesting TEDx Talks video while looking for inspiring motivational videos to share with my team. And it seemed relevant for this post. "The Most Important Lesson From 83,000 Brain Scans" Basically he says the field of psychiatry is the only medical profession that treats an organ without first taking and reviewing scans. Essentially the lesson is that peoples brains can be changed, which can change their lives. It's just under 15 minutes if you're interested. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/esPRsT-lmw8" width="320" youtube-src-id="esPRsT-lmw8"></iframe></div><br /><p> In the event that someone comes across this searching, this is the link to their clinics. <a href="https://www.amenclinics.com/">https://www.amenclinics.com/</a>. I am not a doctor, so I always recommend a medical professional in a time like this, so please find a doctor you trust, or at least one that someone you trust has trust in.</p><p>Additionally if you or someone you know needs help here are some additional resources:<br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 800-273-8255</li><li><a href="https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/">https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/</a></li></ul><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-35450173453279509562021-09-14T18:52:00.000-05:002021-09-14T18:52:05.867-05:00Ode to Awkward Norm - RIP<p>The world lost a legend today. Norm Macdonald passed today. He was the king of the Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live. My all time favorite anchor. He was extremely controversial (though not in my eyes), mostly because he said what everyone was thinking, but usually crossed the line of what people considered respect. However he indeed crossed that line with people who blew so far past the line with others, that the line couldn't be seen anymore to the point their victims received blame, shame, or whatever made up responsibility for the disrespect they received. Bill Clinton, Michael Jackson, OJ Simpson, to name the 3 biggest butts of his brutal and smirky honesty. How did he get so lucky to hit that jackpot of gold, constant material during his time!? He never hesitated to call out hypocrisy surrounding them, which often left people feeling awkward about whether or not they should laugh. OF COURSE THEY SHOULD! His dry but shocking delivery was phenomenal, and had me laughing from week to week. His Burt Reynolds impression torturing Will Farrell's Alex Trebek was also a highlight for me. It's a big hat. It's funny. His standup lived up to his personal comedy integrity that carried on even after SNL threw him under the bus. And while many may disagree with me, looking at the tributes this afternoon, his peers agree that he was indeed the best. </p><p>RIP Norm! Thanks for all the laughs! 💔</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-91297093091667397932021-09-12T18:31:00.000-05:002021-09-12T18:31:13.926-05:00Tap Tap Tap....Is This Thing On???<p>Well it's been a little over 10 years and I found this blog stuffed in the back corner of a dingy, dark closet all covered in dust. I thought I'd clean it up, give it a facelift, and hopefully some new life. There has been so much change and so many awkward adventures in the last 10 years, some of which I will discuss in future posts including:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>My only child is not spoiled. Privileged Yes. But not spoiled.</li><li>I swore off Facebook. </li><li>Lola died (I miss her) and Bad Maggie arrived (I love her too).</li><li>We moved across the country.</li><li>We left tornado alley to experience our first tornado hit vs it hitting on the other side of town.</li><li>We took up mountain biking on top of regular hiking.</li><li>Hell hath no fury like a Texas summer....or late winter storm.</li><li>Public health is now a political issue - Who knew???</li><li>My career long advocation and fight for teleworking has been vindicated, and I TOLD YOU SO to my bosses that patted me on the head and told me to run along and get back to work.</li><li>My tween daughter is rapidly approaching the most awkward phase of her life, and I'm so excited for her!</li><li>I'm convinced I'm going through my version of a mid-life crisis.</li></ul><div>Anyways, I don't know if anyone is still out there. But if you are, I hope you'll join me as I dive into the awkwardness that still is, and will be part of me, as long as I live and breathe on this earth. I have very much missed this outlet. When I look back on what I enjoyed most growing up that gave me joy and an adrenaline rush, playing sports was at the top of the list, followed by my creative writing assignments and exploits. And with my daughter needing us less and less, I ran across my old blogs and after reading through them, realized I've learned a bit and my perspective has changed a bit over the last 10 years. This is the one I missed the most and still has the potential to give me a cathartic outlet that I so desperately need at this time in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I hope to find some of you again, and maybe find a few new people that relate, debate, or just plain hate. See what I did there. I also enjoy awkward poetry!</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's to our awkward future together! </div><div><br /></div><div> RIP Lola<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span>Welcome Bad Maggie</span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnH0LIz-aZGnpvnrNPGUcd3z2BCjrFEhL39EC8ceix1I4m1s0nhyphenhyphenv-7PlPCdiA2908VfZ-An3KyIRNIzSPaqZSChpT-BixUvcAk6wDDO2RLws2YQbYptbzsEin3uDhe2DEQFp8ajXV55Pv/s640/Lola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="640" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnH0LIz-aZGnpvnrNPGUcd3z2BCjrFEhL39EC8ceix1I4m1s0nhyphenhyphenv-7PlPCdiA2908VfZ-An3KyIRNIzSPaqZSChpT-BixUvcAk6wDDO2RLws2YQbYptbzsEin3uDhe2DEQFp8ajXV55Pv/s320/Lola.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0T5rSWIOziuS4OF_y70RHcQeRWKb6iv4QR_DAUNTyOUGU-4sN9EF9EuLdiAru4khs7z5vYQ0eabUJXhrqHeVJYjj1aGzzb6-CJqZOt1RV1dcJX1UEnKefcU7ir39RxUCIyiZ8_O8cvKTK/s640/Berkberk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="418" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0T5rSWIOziuS4OF_y70RHcQeRWKb6iv4QR_DAUNTyOUGU-4sN9EF9EuLdiAru4khs7z5vYQ0eabUJXhrqHeVJYjj1aGzzb6-CJqZOt1RV1dcJX1UEnKefcU7ir39RxUCIyiZ8_O8cvKTK/w153-h234/Berkberk.jpg" width="153" /></a><br /><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-8160642889043438702021-09-11T07:37:00.000-05:002021-09-11T07:37:10.944-05:00Moment of SilenceLet's go to the phones....Paul in a uh.......<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-74821005218403758272011-07-30T06:14:00.005-05:002011-07-30T06:36:00.877-05:00Poop, Poo, DoodiesWhen I was younger and still very awkward, I used to talk about poo because I thought it was funny. You know like the friends episode where Chandler thinks duties is funny. That was me. "He said doodies" snicker, laugh, snort. I was not much of a lady then. I'm not so sure I'm much of one now, but I have more 'lady-like' moments now. Even though I still think doodies is funny.<br /><br />Now that I have a child, I find that the majority of conversations my husband and I have are about poo. <br />"Did she have a poop today?"<br />"How many times did she poo today?"<br />"What did it look like?"<br />"What was the consistency?"<br />"Was it extra stinky just for you?"<br />"How many wipes did it take?"<br />"Did it require a wardrobe change?"<br /><br />Who knew death could come out of a baby's butt and instill such pain on you, while at the same time producing such laughter from her? She thinks putting us through such agony is hilarious. And so it makes sense now. Doodies is funny from birth. It doesn't stop being funny to you until you have to change exploding, stinky diapers. But at that moment the humor is passed on to the next generation. And so poop will always be funny.<br /><br />That said it doesn't change the fact that my husband and I don't have much else to talk about. Not that we don't talk about other things. Other topics just don't seem to dominate our conversations anymore. Is that a sign of an old married couple? I suppose. But it sure is fun to talk about poo and especially, for me, if she had an extra stinky poo just for him. It brings joy to my soul to know I am not be the only one changing extra stinky, messy diapers.<br /><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-21162603021773457222011-07-01T06:21:00.006-05:002011-07-01T19:56:00.266-05:00Who Knew Being a Cop Could be THIS Awkward?!?!<div><div>I'm not a cop, but here's an 'interesting' <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/06/28/us-arrest-breastmilk-idUSTRE75R3Q420110628">story</a> about some cops that were probably not expecting to have the kind of day they had. To sum it up, a drunk lady (oxymoron), who also happened to be 'producing milk,' decided to whip out a booby and spray the officers that were called to the scene. How awkward is that?!? That's beyond awkward.</div><div><br /></div><div>The article says she was charged with assault, but wasn't clear if that was related to spraying the officers or the fight she was having with her husband. This is clearly a woman who shouldn't drink if she can't resist the urge to spray people while intoxicated. The equivalent would be a man whipping out his dong and spraying people. Pee, milk...both bodily fluids that you don't want sprayed on you. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wonder how that goes down....<br />"Ma'am step out of the car."<br />psycho nut job steps out of the car, whips out her boob and starts spraying the officers while probably yelling profanities.<br />whiping faces off..."Ma'am, put your boob away....Ma'am stop spraying us."</div><div>more spraying and profanities followed by the take down and cuffing of said psycho nutjob.<br /></div><div> </div><div>Awkward...though I'm not sure who it's most awkward for...the cops or the drunk lady (oxymoron) after she sobers up...</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-25550846920503012602011-05-30T16:21:00.001-05:002011-05-30T16:24:20.662-05:00What it Feels Like to be a Cow<div>I don't know if cows have feelings or not. I don't know if they object to being hooked up to automatic milkers or if they couldn't care less one way or another. But since becoming a nursing mother, I've started to ponder this and have a little sympathy for them. Or more for us human females who pump in order to feed our young.</div><div><br />Let me start with the mechanics of the pump. Now I know not all pumps are the same but my particular pump 'moos' the whole time. "mooo, mooo, mooo, mooo, mooo" until I turn it off. You may think I'm exaggerating, unless you have the same pump I do, but my husband moos every time he hears it. Which is usually on the weekends. So why do I have a mooing pump? Well because I'm cheap or thrifty, you pick. I went for the highly rated half priced pump because all I cared about was functionality. I did read that the biggest complaint was that it was loud. No review I ever read said the pump actually sounds like a dying or distressed cow. So that's why I feel a bit like a cow whenever I'm pumping. I sometimes moo right along with it just for fun.<br />So the primary reason I pump is because I work. So law requires they provide us a non-bathroom place to pump. So the room in my building is connected to one of the bathrooms and also has a door to a hallway leaving the cafeteria. Honestly I don't think there's a whole lot of traffic past the door, but when I'm in there I just assume that everyone near/passing either door can hear the distressed cow and must wonder what in the hell is going on in there. Luckily or unluckily there is a sign on the door broadcasting just what is going on in there. Though that hasn't stopped a few nosy people from giggling the door handle. That's why I double and triple check the locks on both doors every time I go in there. The other day some weird woman who happened to be walking by the other day as I was unlocking to enter asked if she could look inside. What was I supposed to say? "Squeeze out a baby and lactate like the rest of us do if you want to see inside!"<br /></div><div>That said it's worth feeling like a cow everyday since my baby and I have figured out a way to make it work for us. Though I wouldn't object to the law stating that the room had to be sound proof. But I won't write my congressman about it. I don't think my mom could have prepared me for this because I'm pretty sure she didn't pump. I believe it's less awkward than whipping it out in public to feed her. Only because I feel strongly that for my baby and me it's a very private and personal thing and I don't want anyone outside of our immediate family (or those I deem ok) seeing, watching, or gawking at us. Though I'm not condemning those that do. I much prefer to have a bottle prepped when possible, or find a reasonably private place for us when she needs to eat. Just like I'm also not condemning those women who feed their babies formula. My doctor was fed formula and she's a doctor and I a loser government worker. So my decision probably isn't making my daughter smarter than the formula fed babies around her. Though I'm sure many will say it is. I'm guessing reading to her and practicing math skills and such will do more for her intelligence.<br /></div><div>I think it's silly that I feel the need to clarify that I'm not negatively judging those who make choices differently than me. But that's because I've learned that breastfeeding is such a polarizing topic. (see one of my previous posts). And no matter what your personal choice is someone will have a harsh defensive opinion because they assume your are judging them harshly for choosing differently. I couldn't care less that you chose differently than me. Newsflash I care more about my baby than I care about yours so as long as you don't abuse your baby or leave it in a hot car, I'm happy for you and I won't judge you harshly. This isn't that kind of a post. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-67248172699571904432011-04-22T20:42:00.008-05:002011-04-25T19:39:17.649-05:00Is It Weird That I Want to Hang Out with my OBGYN???You know this is a subject I haven't discussed with my mom. I just assume her OBGYN was a man and since she was in her 20s when she had my brother and me, her OBGYN was probably at least more than 10 years older than her so this thought probably never crossed her mind. So I'm guessing she has not frame of reference and can't relate to this.<br /><br /><br />I'm in my early 30's and get along with people in excess of 5 years either way of my age. Mostly on the older side of me. I'm not exactly sure how old my OBGYN is, but she is not much older than me assuming she's at least a year or two older than me if not more. What I do know is that she has 2 young kids and if she's over 40, she's looks better than I do.<br /><br /><br />One might then ask how I picked her. Well I looked for a specific hospital that was about 2 miles from my house, and then I looked at doctors with privileges. Next I looked at their location and pictures. She was the only one that was right next to the hospital or didn't look weird. What!!! Weird looking. Well when looking for a doctor without a recommendation, I want someone who's not fat because a fat doctor consulting you about your health is a hypocrite. I also must have a woman if she is going to see me naked, but she must not look like she might at all enjoy looking at my girl parts. Which is why I can't pick a man. Why not a gay man? Nothing against them but doctors don't post if they prefer lady or men parts in their own sex lives. And if they did, other than posting a picture of their family, I'd be creeped out that they are sharing their sex life with the world. My doctor posted information about her family so she didn't worry me one way or the other. I didn't mind that she looked young because she had good credentials and I figure the fresher they are out of med school, the most up to date information they have. Plus she can't have her own practice and be much younger than me if at all. Unless of course she was a Doogie Howser M.D. Which I'm sure is possible, but not likely.<br /><br /><br />So maybe it's because she helped suck, pull, yank my sweet baby out of me, but after my 6-week follow up I really felt the desire to be friends with her and hang out with her. I felt like we bonded and really got along. She made me feel like one of her more together patients as she said I was the only one to not call her. And for that matter call her with stupid questions that make me look like an idiot or a tramp. Yes there really are stupid questions.<br /><br /><br />I'm really sad that I'm down to seeing her once a year now. But I can't hang out with someone who checks out my lady parts either. It's just not natural. I wouldn't even know how to make the transition from patient to friend and find a new doctor. The finding a new doctor part is the easy part. My husband said I could stalk her on facebook. But then that turns me into the creepy patient then doesn't it?<br /><br /><br />Oh well. I suppose it will have to be left at a fleeting desire. I need to find another friend I suppose. But no one around here is a cool and laid back as she is....I heart you (in not a creepy way) Dr. J!!! Thank you for being so awesome!!! even though you made me cry after breaking my water...that was hormones not you!!!<br /><br /><br />Ok maybe it's a little weird...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-24435339257847837652011-02-18T09:48:00.004-06:002011-02-18T11:28:15.616-06:00Waterboarding Has Nothing on Back LaborSo I'm settling in my my new little one nearly 6 weeks post partum. She was definitely worth about 7 months worth of misery and the pain of labor. Well I don't know if I'd still be saying that without the miracle of epidurals. My mother gave birth without drugs, but she had no frame of reference for what I went through. The only advice she gave me was that she wouldn't advise going without drugs. Which I had no intention of doing.<br /><br />So let me start by saying I had to be induced. Nothing started happening until my doctor came in and broke my water. The pain started and I got one drug that made me woozy but still very aware. As that started to wear off, I got another drug that my nurse told me I'd probably sleep. She couldn't have been more wrong because as soon as that drug got injected, the contraction kicked in to high gear. Let me just say I don't know what it feels like to have contractions in my belly. It was all in my back and it was excruciating pain. The worst pain I've ever felt and I had a bike accident on a boys' bike that bonked my hootie once. I've never understood why boys' bikes have that cross bar since their genitalia is at greater risk for damage should they bonk themselves.<br /><br />All that crap they say about relaxing in between contractions, in order to save yourself for delivery, went out the window. There was no downtime to relax. The anesthesiologist couldn't get there fast enough. But when he did, he was my hero.<br /><br />If the U.S. government wants an effective mechanism by which to get enemies to talk, then they should figure out how to induce back labor pain in anyone without them being pregnant. Then no one can bitch about it being torture since women throughout the world routinely experience this excruciating pain. I'm convinced it would make anyone talk to make it stop. Perhaps I'm just a weeny though. Either way I was greatful for the relief of an epidural. They are a gift from God.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-63018573764438032382010-12-01T17:51:00.009-06:002010-12-01T21:34:26.213-06:00Things That Make You Cry When PregnantSo I had heard your hormones and emotions run wild when you're pregnant, but I just figured it was over the usual stuff that a woman might cry at like movies, the loss of a pet, a sad book etc. My mother never gave me any heads up to the absurdities that will make you cry when they should make you laugh, angry, or cause indifference from you. <br /><br />I've been pretty even keeled this whole time. I'm not bitchy and don't throw temper tantrums. I might cry at a tear jerking movie, or at a commercial that talks about planning for your future. I'd say that's not too bad. But I wasn't prepared for the random moments that caused set me off in hysterical, sinus draining, crying fits. <br /><br /><strong>1.</strong> <strong>Road Rage</strong>. Several months ago, I witnessed a potentially dangerous episode of road rage between two jackasses about 100 yards in front of me. One probably wasn't paying attention and almost ran into the other but corrected himself. The other decided to get aggressive which lead to 2 pissy, pitch fittin drivers acting like dumbasses. Luckily I was far enough behind them to avoid running into this disaster, and when I saw them pull over as if they were going to lay the smack down on each other, I was relieved I was at my exit and continued on. <br /><br />Normally this would just piss me off and I would be cussing their idiocy. But instead I freaked out and started crying hysterically the rest of the way home. I could not stop crying and blabbering at what jerks they were to put me and others around them in danger by acting like fools. How in the hell could they NOT know that a pregnant woman was a mere 100 yards behind them? Insensitive bastards!!!<br /><br /><strong>2. Puking in Your Lap.</strong> Now I know that you're probably thinking this is not such a strange thing to make you cry hysterically even when your not hormonal. But this wasn't my first time to throw up on myself while stuck in the car. Yes I said stuck in the car. While driving down the highway. The first time it happened was about 10 years ago. I got some stomach bug that caused it. But I didn't cry. I stayed rational and logical. I merely contemplated whether or not I should stop at the ER on my way home or not. I knew in my gut it wasn't serious so I continued driving the 20 minutes all the way home. <br /><br />This time I thought I was well enough past my morning sickness which had been very routine to this point and always at home. It'd been a week and a half since I'd thrown up. Well this one morning I woke up an hour earlier than normal not feeling very well. My stomach was burning and I just generally didn't feel very good. Well I had smoothie for breakfast and went on my way to work. I started not feeling well but being on the highway in the left lane didn't give me many options for pulling over. So I started making my way right. I made it there and just as I was about to pull over... well it was too late. Logically I pulled off and turned around to head back home. Though irrationally emotional, I balled the whole way home which took a good 10-15 min. The difference between this time and 10 years ago, I had someone waiting at home to help me. Ten years ago I got home got out cleaned myself off, took a nap in the tub, got up feeling better and cleaned my car. This time, I didn't have to clean anything but myself, but I still couldn't stop crying about it.<br /><br /><strong>3. Scooping Dog Poo.</strong> So this is what convinced me to post on this topic. Today I was cleaning up after my dog in the yard, which was way overdue for cleaning. Now I've got 5 1/2 weeks to go, or less if I'm lucky, so I'm feeling large and not so mobile. Bending over is getting harder and harder so I'm using one hand on the pooper scooper and the load is getting heavy. On top of that, any activity like this now exhausts the hell out of me. I'm half way done and starting the other fence line and suddenly I realize there's a pile I missed that I didn't see when I got there. So I start scooping that up and I keep finding more and more in the same basic area. Initially this is perplexing to me, but I keep scooping before I discover there's a freaking giant hole in the bag. What's going in is now falling out every time I lower to scoop, so I've been rescooping the same poop for the last minute or so. Which is a giant waste of valuable energy. <br /><br />Under normal circumstances that would have made me laugh, but I was already exhausted from the other side of the yard and the bag was so heavy and there was so much poop to scoop, and to top it off now my bag had a hole in it and I was going to have to get a new bag to finish the job and a new bag just to put the original worthless bag in. Which I might add was going to require more energy to be exerted. So I started crying ridiculously out of frustration. Not cool. Not cool at all. Especially since it makes me feel like I sound overly dramatic. Which is a quality I generally despise, or at least find incredibly annoying. None the less I'm crying like a nut job and my dog is worried enough about me that she keeps checking on me and actually gives me the frisbee to throw to her rather than insisting I chase her for it. It's about time my dog feel sorry for me and play with the frisbee right!!<br /><br /><strong>4. Accidentally Deleting all of the Pictures From the Computer.</strong> Pregnant or not, I logically know that it would take a LOT to permanently delete pictures from my computer and that whatever I had done was not likely permanent. However when I went to the recycle bin I could not find them as I expected. So what do I do? The only thing that obviously solves all my problems. I start to cry as I frantically try to find them. When that doesn't work, I call my dad the 'computer expert' crying that I somehow deleted all of our pictures and can't find them anywhere....can you help me????? Of course while I'm on the phone with him I go back to the recycle bin and take a slower look and find them. But they were not as I would have expected to find them. Then of course I get mad at computer technology for deleting my pictures without even selecting them all and hitting the delete button. Stupid technology, what good is it if it takes over and does what you don't want it to do???<br /><br /><strong>5. Crying.</strong> Since it's against my personality to cry irrationally, crying in the above described circumstances results in more blathering, snotty, frustrating, crying. I don't really know what else to say about that. It's not very attractive at all, which is why most of the time I try not to cry around my husband. Especially since logic tells me it's stupid to cry about these things and pride tells me it's a sign of weakness. All of that goes out the window, understandably so, when one is growing a baby. <br /><br />So that's my crying list. I'm sure there are a few more I could add that are not nearly as entertaining. Be warned ladies, if you haven't experienced this, you will find yourself crying over things that seem more ridiculous than spilt milk.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-2468751757426932722010-09-14T18:58:00.006-05:002010-09-14T19:38:20.775-05:00The True Meaning of "Pregnancy Glow"So growing up I heard about this "glow" that you get when your pregnant. I don't recall whether or not it was specifically explained to me as this look of joy and happiness that you get knowing that your offspring is growing inside you, but somehow that is what I always interpreted the meaning to be. I've even gotten the comment a few times myself.<br /><br />Here's the thing, until recently I've been fighting pretty regular morning sickness either first thing in the morning or in the afternoon/evening. So I didn't feel like joy and happiness was oozing from my face. That leaves one other option which gives a whole new meaning to "glow." My face broke out like I was 12 or 13 all over again. I was humiliated. Then and now. I thought I left 13 back in 1991! Mom did NOT warn me that my face would look this bad. And all the magazines and Internet articles that said your skin never looks better than when your pregnant LIED! Can I sue them for mental anguish or something like that? At least when I'm not pregnant I can treat it with drugs that work. When you're pregnant, they don't let you use the stuff that works so you just have to 'deal' with it and hope it clears up before you die. Even better before you deliver. I'm still waiting, though it's a little better than when it was at it's worst. <br /><br />I ooze oil when my face is out of control despite the assistance of makeup. I have so much oil on my face, BP needs to dispatch a clean up crew to help. (sorry for the lame joke...not really!) So I assume any "glow" that I had or even still have at times is due to the light reflecting off of the oil field on my forehead. That's the only possible explanation I have for anytime I glow since I can't bring myself to utter the words "I've never felt better in my life" to describe being pregnant. That would be a big fat lie coming from my mouth.<br /><br />So there you have it...Pregnancy Glow is a polite way of saying 'how old are you? 13?!?!' or 'your skin is terrifying! But I can't look away!' or 'Thank God my skin doesn't look as bad as yours!!' I'm sure I could go on and on, but you get the point. Pregnancy Glow, no matter how well-intentioned, is not a compliment. Unless you're one of the lucky few that not only didn't get sick but never had better skin in your whole life.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Amber Sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08487471617945987354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-24265570401673812052010-08-23T17:59:00.003-05:002010-08-23T18:46:38.484-05:00How to Get Knocked up Like a Sorority GirlSo in the event that any of you have been wondering where I've been, I've been puking my guts out and sleeping and generally feeling motivated to do as little as possible including write. Lucky you, I'm back!!!<br /><br />Yes, I'm knocked up....Half-way through and just found out it's a girl! So the next several posts will be dedicated to all of the awkward crap about pregnancy my mother didn't tell me about. The puking I expected. That was about it.<br /><br />So the first part to having a baby is actually conceiving. As many of you know it's not nearly as simple as going off birth control. Though my mom seemed to be under that impression. Apparently that's how it worked for her. Off a couple a months then BAM!!! What she didn't take into account is that she was in her early 20's, I'm waited until 31 to 'stop preventing.'<br /><br />Anyways so I was so good that I only consumed adult beverages during the week that confirmed conception failure. Several months passed and still no luck. I decided that maybe I ought to try tracking my temperature, because this option is much cheaper than buying an ovulation kit. Plus I didn't want to lose money if it didn't work. So I started tracking my temperature. I get up at 5am during the week for work. The weekends I sleep until at least 6:30 or later, but you must take it at the same time everyday. That sucked big time. To top it off, I got sick sometime during month 2, which screwed my normal temperature way up for a week. So I gave that up. I decided it was more work then I was willing to do that early on in the 'not preventing' process. I figured I'd pick it up again if I got closer to a year out and wanted to have information to take to a doctor.<br /><br />So back to the adult beverages and the title of this post. Some time later, I was about to go visit some friends and my week of confirmed failure was about to start in a couple of days, so I did invest in an 'early' pregnancy test and used that as my confirmation and peace of mind that it was ok to have a margarita or two. So I didn't worry about it and had a great time with them. Not a sorority girl amount of a good time that could get me arrested for walking around in public, but enough. <br /><br />We got home on the day failure was to be confirmed, I was mowing the lawn and my back snapped and started hurting. Failure wasn't confirmed that day but my back continued to hurt. I suspected that failure hadn't happened, but as I only had 1 pregnancy test left, I didn't want to take it until my body was really ready to pass it, because again, I'm cheap, and I really really didn't want to spend the money on a new box if I didn't have to. So I waited for about 5 days before I took it again, which was exactly 1 week after I took the first one. I passed!<br /><br />So moral of the story. Don't stress yourself out by trying to do everything right to get pregnant. Relax and have fun with it. And for pete's sake don't keep drinking after you confirm you're pregnant. Oh and secondary moral, don't believe those commercials about the pregnancy tests working early. It's a trick to get you to buy more tests! I should sue for false advertising, but they covered themselves with a disclaimer on the box.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-87840961838019840052010-01-25T17:33:00.002-06:002010-01-25T17:39:47.411-06:00Awkward Quandry of the DayWhy are big sunglasses considered fashionable when big regular glasses from 1980-1993 still aren't considered fashionable?<br /><br />I got my first pair yesterday and today while wearing them on my walk today, I found myself feeling like I was in 3rd-8th grade. They feel heavy and awkward and I'm constantly pushing them up my nose while they are constantly weighing me down.<br /><br />My big sunglasses aren't nearly as big as the ones I see everyone else wearing. How do they do it without going insane? If I had to wear them all day, I'd get angry like I did with my glasses growing up. I remember throwing them across the gym floor once or twice they made me so mad. Good thing I don't wear my sunglasses all day and it's also good that I only paid $10 for them.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-76373650018980208672010-01-20T21:42:00.003-06:002010-01-20T21:46:16.974-06:00Youtube is Not Always Your FriendOhhh what's more awkward than having a wardrobe malfunction caught on video? Having it placed on youtube. Nonetheless I laughed hysterically enough to post it. Hope you enjoy.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2s8sXdL3IIo&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2s8sXdL3IIo&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-39552678559033401562010-01-09T20:40:00.000-06:002010-01-09T20:40:58.801-06:00Facebook is Like Reliving Highschool All Over AgainMy mother obviously couldn't have taught me this because she isn't even on Facebook. Which is really probably a good thing. I resisted the "social networking" frenzy as long as I possibly could out of the principle of the matter. Mostly because My Space dominated the market and it seemed like something for musicians, teenagers, and child predators. I wanted nothing to do with it even after Facebook entered the scene. But then a year ago my curiosity got the better of me and so I gave in.<br /><br />Immediately I got friend requests from people I knew in college all the way back to people I knew in elementary school. Which, since I moved around more than most people I know, I had lost touch with many of them so it was pretty neat to touch base with them again after all these years.<br /><br />In case you haven't figured it out, I hated most of high school except my freshman year. Well suddenly I'm facebook friends with these people who somehow contributed to this awkward time of my life. And before you know it you're "friends" with a bunch of other people you knew at some point in your life either because you drunk friended them (like drunk dialing) or sober friended them because you talked yourself into the nerve to send them a friend request. Or they did the same to you.<br /><br />So I saw no facebook etiquette for how to handle a new friend. I thought it only polite to at the very least say hi on their wall or even email them to catch up. I genuinely cared too. I found out it was like being in high school all over again where they find it amusing to just ignore my "hello how are you." And they sent me the request!!! Why would you friend me only to ignore me. Or accept a friend request only to ignore me. Trust me if you didn't care enough about me to keep up with me until now, my life is not nearly interesting enough to ignore me on facebook.<br /><br />Then there are those that just send you a friend request because they want numbers. So if they ever ran across your path or went to the same school as you, they send you and 100's others requests. But they never bothered to get to know you ever. I'm not convinced they really knew my name. They just saw me in a school group they are in or something like that. So what do I do? I just say no. Lots of friends don't make you a super nice and genuine friend and person. That's not to say I'm super close with all of my facebook friends, but I do know that they knew my name or I knew them and we've all had some sort of interaction be it have actual classes together or actual conversations no matter how short.<br /><br />That said it's here to stay and it's a much better forum than most of the other "social networking" forums and who knows, maybe it will result in a job someday when I need or want it. Also I find it to be the only way some of my friends communicate anymore. I still prefer email and am glad some of my closer friends also keep in touch that way. Needless to say, I no longer feel like I must make some form of communication with with a new friend. But I always always respond, if someone wants to know what's up with me.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7411282501671432330.post-22291334252826171222010-01-01T21:01:00.003-06:002010-01-01T21:14:58.333-06:00Happy New Year!!!So I've never been big into resolutions because often people seem to make them about things that involve changing habits or lifestyle that they don't really want to change. But in keeping with the theme of this blog, I've decided to spend less time worrying about my crows feet and gray hairs that I can't keep up with, and spend more time enjoying getting them.<br /><br />2010 is going to be a great year and a great start to another great decade! Perhaps that's because as I get older, I do less awkward things. Or perhaps it's because I care less about embarrassing myself.<br /><br />Hope you all have a fabulous year!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2