Seriously, People, Not Even In An RV

I feel a little like Sam I Am.  I will not eat them on a goat, or in a boat.  I will not camp.  Not in a tent, or in an RV.

But Robbin's comment on this post reminded me of a great story that I cannot believe I have never told.  I have camped in an RV.  It did not go well.

My parents had very little money when they were first married and when I was little.  Everything they have built they have built themselves.  They got married right out of high school and my Dad was shipped to Vietnam and then put himself through college and graduate school.  He worked long hours while my mom raised two children on very little money.

On thing that was very important to them was family vacations.  So someone, probably my father, came up with the bright idea that we would rent an RV by Deep Creek Lake.  Now, I was little, so I don't remember much from this vacation.  I do remember that the dog took one look at his living quarters for the week and started to shake.  I remember it was small, tiny really.  I remember that we rented the thing for a week and lasted two days, three tops.

My father, who loves nothing more than having his entire family together, looks upon this RV vacation with a fondness that no one else does.  He will frequently bring up buying an RV and we all just look at him like he is crazy, crazy, crazy. 

I am not camping.  Even in an RV.

When You Are The Only Mom Who Has A Job

I've notice this trend in the blogosphere that I keep being invited to PR events in the middle of the day.  I can't be the only "mommyblogger" who has a job right?  And I'm not saying stay at home moms don't work, trust me, I know they do.  But why do all the PR people assume all "mommybloggers" stay home?

I'm over DC Metro Moms talking about being the only mom in Michael's preschool who has a job.  It's kind of the same feeling.

The Guest Post That Wasn't

A few weeks ago I was contacted by a site that will remain nameless to do a guest post for them.  I agreed, partly because I was crazy busy and why not add something else on my plate, and partly because I subscribe to the why not write as many places as possible philosophy.  I thought it was a little strange when they asked me for my last name, and I specifically told them I don't use my last name in blogging and please don't post it but I gave it to them.  I should never have

You totally know where this story is going, right?  They posted my last name.  And I emailed them for FOUR DAYS and asked them to take my last name off.  And then I just got mad and demanded they take the post down.  And they wanted to have a discussion about it.  I was like, discuss it?  TAKE THE POST DOWN.

I do not blog anonymously.  Some of you probably know my last name based on what email address I've emailed you from, if you got a holiday card from me, or if I know you in real life.  But those are my terms.  I do not post it on the internet.  We all have our own boundaries when blogging.  You may not agree with mine and whether or not they make sense and are rationale.  Some people don't even use their real names.  That is not the point of this post.  The point is they broke my boundaries after I specifically asked them not to.  And then ignored me for FOUR DAYS.

So, I'm posting the guest post here.  Partly because I wrote it, and also, because I like it.  It is about an issue near and dear to my heart and I would like someone to read it. 

_________

I was diagnosed with Lupus and Rheumatoid arthritis last year after being sick for 6 months.  And after I got over the initial shock, I did what everyone else does, I started googling.

Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disorder that can cause inflammation, pain, and damage in various parts of the body. Rheumatoid arthritis is an autoimmune disease that causes chronic inflammation of the joints.   Basically, my immune system just does not work the way it is supposed to.  Both disorders are characterized by periods of health and periods of flares.

The more research I did the more I learned that there was some research that suggested that what you ate could influence how often you had flares. Nutritionists recommended eating a lot of fish.  Which, luckily, I did anyway.  I don’t eat meat, but do eat fish, and tend to eat fish at least 3 times a week.  Some even went as far as to recommend taking a fish oil supplement.

Some nutritionists recommended a vegan diet, cutting out all alcohol, and avoiding things like alfalfa sprouts and tomatoes due to their high L-canavanine content.  The information was enough to make your head spin.

When I spoke to my rheumatologist about this her advice was this:  “be healthy.  Eat right.  Exercise.  Take a multi vitamin every day.  Do you need to cut out all alcohol, no.  But don’t over do it.”

I am very lucky.  Since being diagnosed, I have only had one flare, and it was rather mild.  Is it because I eat a lot fish?  Is it because I lived a relatively healthy lifestyle before getting diagnosed? The medical community has yet to reach an agreed upon conclusion that diet plays a role in the conditions but there are some health practitioners who suggest that nutrition does play a role.   But like anything else, being healthy and living healthy translates into feeling healthy.

And even though I’m sick, my goal is to feel healthy as much as possible.

DCMM: When You Are The Only Mom Who Has A Job

I love my son's preschool, but it is not set up for the working mom.  Morning care doesn't start until 8:15 and after care ends at 5:30.  Summer camp only goes until 3, and even then it is only 6 weeks.  They closed for 2 weeks for winter break and spring break.  There are meetings during the day and they expect every child to have a parent on every field trip.  And no, it is not a co-op.

I work part-time.  And most of the time we have managed to make it work.  Except lately I have been working more than part time I have not been able to make all the book fairs and all the meetings and Michael has been in morning care and after care a little longer than most of the other kids.

And trust me, people notice.  And Michael notices.

I knew this going in, and we picked the school because we liked it and my son didn't get into our first choice.  Yes, we were rejected from our first choice preschool.  What can I say, we are preschool rejects. 

I hate when Michael asks me, "Mommy, Kevin's mommy came to school and you weren't there, Mommy why weren't you there?"  And I feel like I do a good job of being there.  I went on the dentist field trip and I was the mystery reader and I came to the going away party for one of the teachers in the middle of the day.  I go the fundraiser dinners and the book fairs.  I spoke at career day.  Career day, for 3 year olds.  I was the only mom. 

But I also have a job.  And they expect me to show up for it.  I can't go to the farm field trip because I have a trial so my husband is going to have to take off of work.  Such is life, what can I say?

We read Mommy's High Heel Shoes a lot (written by Kristie Finnan, who blogs at one of our sister sites, Philly Moms Blogs).  In fact, that was the book he picked for me to read when I read a book to the class.  We talk about how Mommies have jobs too.  How my job is important to me and how I work with kids who are hurt and I help them.  I think he gets it.  I hope he gets it.

One of the very first encounters I had with one of the other mothers at the school she was inviting me to an after school play date she was hosting for the whole class.  And after school is 12:20.  And when I explained to her that we wouldn't be there because I work she said, "you work?  I'm sorry."

I'm not sorry.  I like my job.  I'm good at my job.  I went to school for a long time to do my job.  And there is also the necessary thing of eating and keeping a roof over my child's head.  That is important too.

This is not meant to be one of those "Mommy Wars" working moms against stay at home moms one is better than the other posts.  Both are equally hard.  I don't believe in competitive parenting.  But I do believe we should do everything to support one another and try to make parenting easier.

And that includes the school system.  Granted, I picked this school, so I knew what I was getting myself into.  But the public school system in general is not set up for working parents.  Kids are out of school too often.  Do they really even need summer break anymore?  I'd like to hear from parents whose kids are in year round school, do you feel that is better for the working parent?

Michael loves his school, and ironically his favorite teacher of his 3 (don't even get me started on that one) is his after care teacher.  I know we picked the right place.  But I'd like just one other mom to commiserate with who is racing out the door to go to work also.

Mommy Does Not Camp

Michael really, really wants to go camping.  It is all he can talk about.  He keeps begging Doug to take him camping.  And we had been telling him we would go camping when it got hot out, that it was to cold.  It was 90 degrees this weekend and he said "NOW CAN WE GO CAMPING?"

I do not camp.  I hate the outdoors.  I do not sleep outside.  I do not like dirt, or bugs.  Or peeing in the woods.  I did the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer a few years ago where you walk 60 miles in 3 days.  The walking was easy.  The 2 nights of camping, hell.  And they built villages with catered food.  Actual camping, I don't think so.

Doug came up with the fabulous idea to try progressive camping.  Before we go out and buy tents and sleeping bags and whatever else you need for camping, Doug decided we camp in the basement first.  And all we would need is sleeping bags.  Michael shouted "THEN MOMMY CAN CAMP TOO BECAUSE IT IS NOT OUTSIDE!"  And I looked at him and said, "Mommy does not camp.  In any form."

Later, when Doug asked me why I wouldn't just suck it up and sleep in the basement my response was, "why would I sleep in the basement when I have a perfectly good bed upstairs?  I'm not sleeping on the floor.  You people are crazy."

Mommy does not camp.  No version of camping appeals to me.  Unless it is the version that ends up at a hotel, that I am okay with.

Shoe Friday #27

Erin's daughter's shoes.

 

Have I Mentioned Yet How Much I Love You Guys?

Thank you so much for indulging me in my whiny, my life is so tough because I have a BLAWG blog.  Once again, your comments hit the nail on the head.  It's okay to step back and take a breath.  This is a hobby after all.

The bottom line is work is killing me.  I am in trial after trial after trial the next couple weeks and I was stressing a bit.  I was started to feel like I was under water and I could not breath.  And apparently whiny blog posts is how I handle stress. 

You know how else I handle stress?  Signing up for more stress.  See, um, we decided to maybe, kinda, sorta, explore moving.  I have only wanted to do this since THE DAWN OF FREAKIN' TIME.  I just got Doug to come around.  We are meeting with a Realtor this weekend and it looks like this is actually happening.  Because what I need is something else to stress about.

I really do like my new countertops, and I love my dishwasher.  But the rest of this house, I hate with a burning passion.  Not that there is anything wrong with it, it is just too small for us.  But hey, if you know anyone who is looking for a townhouse in the Washington DC Metro area in a great school district, email me.  I'll cut them a break, I promise.

I'm Doing That Other Annoying Blogger Thing Where I Blog About Blogging

I'm kind of in a weird place.  I just cannot come up with things to write about,  I don't know if it is because things are relatively calm, (and even as I type it I think, don't say it, the world will blow up if you say it), work is kicking my ass, more people are reading this blog, certain people are reading this blog, or I am still living in fear that other people will find this blog, but I am just finding this medium stifling.  (But apparently not stifling enough for the longest run on sentence known to man.)  I normally draft 4-5 posts on the weekends and I sat down and just stared and stared and stared and eventually wrote something and then screwed up and posted it early.  I know that this is not up to my normal standards. 

I'm not saying I'm quitting.  I'm not even saying I'm taking a break, because every time I do that I don't even take a break.  I'm just asking you all to bear with me while I figure out where I go from here.

I'm constantly shocked anyone reads this.  One I first started I was like wow, 20 people visited today.  Wow, 100 people visited today.  And now I have been asked to speak on a panel about blogging and social media.  Seriously?  I'm an expert on nothing.

It's not that I don't love blogging, I do.  It's not that I mind being labeled a "mommy blogger," I don't.  I know a lot of people do, but I don't care.  It's just that I'd like to be more than that.  I'm not saying I want to be bigger or need more traffic, I just don't want to be "just a mommy blogger." 

I think I need to decide to tell people, or not.  And if I'm not going to tell people, how long can I really live in the closet.  Because this space, and the people I have met have become such an integral part of who I am, that it almost feels like lying every time I see someone who doesn't know about it.  Then again, I'm not sure I can handle more "real life" people reading.  Which leads me to where I am now, at a cross roads.  Doug thinks I am a destined to be found out and I might as well come clean anyway.

I'm also a little sick of all the me.  (I hate, hate, hate the term "navel gazing.")  I'm really not all that interesting.  Maybe I'm having a blogging mid life crises?  And I miss the me before I started blogging.  I miss watching tv, actually watching tv.  Not listening to tv while surfing the internet and playing on twitter.  I miss reading books.  I love books.  And bubble baths.  And knitting.  Although I can't blame that on blogging.  I can't knit anymore because my hands hurt too much from the RA.

Perhaps I just need better boundaries.  Perhaps I don't need to answer every comment that is left on every blog I write for by email.  Perhaps I write for too many blogs.  Perhaps I need to actually close the laptop and turn off the iPhone.  I  need to play with Michael more.  I need to be present.

I have absolutely no idea what any of this means.

I'm asking for some time and patience while I figure it all out.  That may mean less posts.  But I promise I'm not going anywhere.

Michael Would Be A Very Good Suburban Housewife

All Michael has talked about the past few weeks is planting a garden.  He is doing a gardening unit at school and he really wants a garden at home.  I told Doug he was in charge of this.

I'm not a fan of gardening.  I'm not a fan of the outside really.  It does not help that I'm allergic to the outside.  Seriously, I once went to an allergist and of the 52 environmental allergens he tested me for, I was allergic to 49.  The only things I was not allergic to was dogs and horses.  I told Doug that meant we should get a horse.  He told me that was not what that meant.

I also really don't like plants that much.  I mean, they are fine in a generic, help bring oxygen to the earth kind of way, but not in an I want in my house kind of way,  Also, my house, kills plants.  I cannot keep a plant alive.  Give me a plant and it will be dead a week later.  Better yet, don't even give me a plant.

So, if Michael really wanted a garden, it was up to Doug.  Because I would just kill it.

So we went to a garden center.  I never want to go to a garden center again.  I was allergic to the whole place.  And they had a cat, which I am also allergic to.  To Michael this may have been a toy store.

And then we came home.  And Michael and Doug did things with potting soil, and sunflower seeds, and a watering can.  I think it is called planting or potting or something like that.

I now have a plant.  In my house.  I think they need water at some point.  I hope it is not counting on me for nourishment because this will not end well, trust me.

Shoe Friday #26

Angela, who won the awesome bag on We Covet, and her favorite pair of shoes.  I wanted the bag.  Really, really badly.