Roid Rage

Early morning blog. Woot. Woot.

I can thank the steroids for this! Apparently they make you a little more... Wakeful. And not just me. Stryker too.

So we had a fun night of up every other hour. And wide awake this morning at 6:30. Oh boy. I hardly recognize myself.

I feel bad for the little guy.

I know he prefers at least a good four hours of sleep in a row.

BUT. At the same time I can't complain too much since I am so worried about my milk supply that him eating every other hour is sure to keep it going strong.

Cross your fingers.

Sorry, Nate. I know that's gross for you!

But I was hoping to be better today. Like. Less visible splotching.

And I'm not!!!!!!!

I think I have less itching. I think.... It's hard to gauge that accurately, since in fact, I still itch.

BUT. My face doesn't have any raised bumps. Just the left over pock-marks that ruined this mug.

I hate that whole sentence. Don't worry.

So anyways. Here I am. On my third dose of Roids, hoping my boobs don't shrink, I don't swell to the size of the Good Year Blimp and go impotent. (What? Wrong gender.... Whew.)

Oh. No. What about Stryker?????

I'll never forgive myself if this has lasting effects.... I don't think his future wife will either.

Ew. Gross. Lets talk about something else.

How about..... Bad Parenting while we're on the subject.

I hate the world we live in. I am growing more and more restless with this ridiculous society and I'm having a harder and harder time keeping my mouth shut. So FYI, this Blog tends to be an outlet for my mouth....

You've been warned.

Anyways. Have you seen the show "Pregnant in Heels?" It's a hard show to watch thanks to Rosie's peculiar British accent. I'm not sure if she has a speech impediment but its hard for me to identify because she uses an accent with it or what. Also. She is so hard on those parents that I don't like that part either.

She literally panics when they don't have the nursery done weeks before the baby arrives.

We still don't have Stryker's room done.


Ok, anyways. In the intellectual (Or not so intellectual, you be the judge.) part of my brain, I like to compare this show with the Movie Idiocracy.

Ok. First a recap on both, in case you've watched neither.

Pregnant in Heels is a realty show about a British woman who runs a Maternity Concierge Business, in which she basically caters to the uber rich first time mommies, or second time mommies, or just any kind of mommies that have loads of money to throw around. She plans Baby Showers, she hires decorators, house organizers, lady-business-waxing sessions, she yells at them for eating to much and makes them work out, she resolves religious issues when a Catholic has married a Jewish man and before they were pregnant had not had one conversation about how the children would be raised. Basically, she covers the entire realm of not real issues for normal people, but makes good television about the rich and famous.

Idiocracy is a... It's um.... I want to use the word stupid, but don't feel like it's a very intelligent use of my vocabulary.... Forget it. It's this stupid movie starring Luke Wilson about the future of this world, if people continue to procreate the way we do. Wealthy intelligent people wait and wait and wait to have kids, because they want to be financially secure and "ready" and so by the time they get around to wanting a child they are only old enough to have one or they are getting a divorce instead or their infertile. And on the other side of the spectrum you have the young, stupid(I said it again) trailer trash group that have gobs of kids because there is no such thing as birth control for them and they start like in high school so they have like fifteen kids before the husband is hauled off to jail. So, the movie's premace is that stupid people inherit the earth and the future looks like a grown up version of South Park.

I don't think the movies that far off.

Especially when I see on Pregnant in Heels nannies are no longer advised to use Time Out.


Are you kidding me.

Do you know why they don't want you to use Time Out with your child now?

Because it in essence "Shames" the child and humiliates them. Instead you should have a conversation with the toddler and explain to them why what they did was wrong.

I rolled my eyes just typing that. Twice.

I've been both a nanny and a parent. And while I would never, ever, ever, spank a child that was not mine. Not ever. I did find the need to use Time Out.

A lot.

And believe me, there was this one child, whom I love dearly and we have a very special bond today, but I tried everything with that kid. I tried time out. I tried explaining the situation. I tried explaining why he was in trouble. I tried ignoring him. I tried giving him all of attention and ignoring everybody else. I tried bribing. I tried Zen and Yoga and meditation.

In the end. Time Out won over because it was the most consistent form of discipline he got. And he needed firm, consistent discipline.

Believe me.

And the pounds of hair I loss. (Which! Literally I'm losing pounds of hair as we speak. Stryker is four months old and so my hair has begun the shedding process and let me tell you. It ain't pretty. Handfuls, don't even begin to describe the amount of lost hair to you....)

Anyways. Now I have a child of my own. Miss Scarlett. That does not see reason. She has a switch. Zach, after Monday, calls it the Gorga Switch. You have to be a fan of New Jersey to get that one. And yes, he watches it with me. He can't help himself. And I can't blame him, because either can I.

Anyways, 75% of the time she is a reasonable, exceptionally intelligent child that can be reasoned with and explained things to and she responds positively.

Then, there are the other 25% of the times that she sees only Red. And by that, I mean, the switch has been flipped and it is her way or the highway and her way is this loud, screaming, violent, angry temper tantrum of the way that cannot be soothed by sweet words or ignored, oh no. She has lost her mind.

That's when Time Out comes in handy.

Or, you know, He who loves his child is careful to discipline him.... (Proverbs 13:24)

And so forth.

And so on.

Ok. The second part of society that makes me sick. Like physically sick is this whole idea of keeping your baby's gender a secret.

Like beyond birth.

Fine, hide the gender until the baby arrives, but don't diminish the sex of your child because you want your child to grow up in a environment without sexual boundaries.

First I need to clarify that I am not talking about Gay or Straight or Tolerance or Intolerance.

If you are gay, you are going to be Gay. I believe that.

Hiding his or her true identity from the world isn't fostering a belief in the child that he or she can be whatever he or she wants to be, it is confusing and and blurry and how can a child make a decision if the child doesn't have any guidelines in which to decide?

While I believe that Gay people will inherit the kingdom of God just as much as any other straight person as long as they believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God, just like any straight person must in order to enter heaven and all the other stuff doesn't matter, on the other hand I do not believe in a transgendered world in which woman were born accidentally men and the other way around.

Whether you are a Creationist or Evolution you don't believe in gender related accidents. Either its survival of the fittest or God-designed. Accidents don't happen.

Anyways. I'll save you my theological argument. And give you my case for sharing the gender of your child.

It's three fold.

First. I think its just confusing for the child. It doesn't make sense to a toddler why they don't know if they are a girl or a boy. The actual decision for sexual orientation comes later in life. I'm not talking born gay or made gay, I'm talking, toddlers aren't driven sexually. They don't have feelings one way or the other. Telling a two year old that they are neither boy nor girl would not make sense to a child only interested in eating and playing.

Second. The child knows what they are. They either pick up guns, or anything resembling guns and turn it in to guns or they pick up dolls. They either play cowboys and indians or dress-up. And then on top of how they choose to play, they intrinsically know what they are. They have to. A child grows up with the knowledge that mommy is a girl and daddy is a boy and I'm pretty sure they can figure out which one they resemble.

Third. And this is my most valid point. Why on earth would you make your life as a a parent that complicated? Number one question you get with a baby, no matter what color you dress them in, no matter if they have bows in their hair, or basketballs on their shirt, "Aw, is it a boy or a girl?" And most the time I'm like, are you kidding me? His shirt actually says baby boy, in blue, on his blue shirt. Or, I'm like you can't tell Stella is a girl? Really? Her goal in life is to become Repunzel and she's half way there, also she's wearing a dress, and probably twirling. Having to explain your philosophy in life every thirty seconds you're stopped in the grocery store seems a little over the top for getting the word out. Not to mention who has the time to live life like that? Especially with three children? Just do what everybody else does these days, get a blog, make a platform and preach it girl.

Doesn't society just get under your skin some times? Ugh.

Well, on a lighter note. Last night I Facebook Updated(Under your skin when I use sentences like this????) that You know you live in the country, when you're husband accidentally decapitates a bat while trying to close the living room window.

Which happened.

Which was disgusting!

Whilst trying to close the window during our unseasonably cold spring, Zach murdered a bat that was hanging upside down in our window sill.

People, I'm not playing animal activist here. But that's gross, right?

But that's life here out in the middle of nowhere.

So why not a list about it????

A -You know you live in the country when- Top Ten List:

1. It starts to drizzle outside, so you gather all of the candles, matches, lighters and blankets together in one room, so your ready for the inevitable power outage.

2. Your children come back from a trip to the bathroom with a tally of how many unusual bugs they've killed along the way.

3. Your husband keeps a wood-chopping station right outside your back door, where he can often be found... Chopping Wood.

4. You know just the right amount of candles it takes to mask that ever so sweet Septic Smell.

5. No matter how big of a hurry you are in, the car doesn't go over 30 miles an hour until you've hit city lights, lest their be deer, turkey's, pheasants, badgers, oppossum, and who knows what other type of critters run these roads at night just waiting to jump in front of you and cause thousands of dollars in body damage.

6. Surrounded by farmland and a back yard made up of a gigantic garden means one thing: You've been to Wal-mart, bought your seeds and have since then Googled "Gardening for Dummies."

7. There might not be any street lights out here, but who needs them when the stars shine this bright and the moon is rarely behind the clouds.

8. An upcoming holiday weekend means that you're evenings will be serenaded with gunfire and the smell of BBQ from every direction.

9. Your neighbors probably have a statue of the Virgin Mary sitting on top of a tree stump in the middle of a weirdly plowed field, almost as if sacrifices could be performed accordingly....

10. And ten. You find yourself apologizing to everyone you invite over about the drive. The drive here. The drive up our gravel driveway. The drive through deer infested, darkened roads. The drive. The drive. The drive. Oy.


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