Daily Musings and Random Ramblings

Hello, friends....both domestic and international.

Periodically, I look at the demographic chart that Google sends to me and I'm always amazed by who has stumbled upon my little piece of the blogosphere!

Now, don't panic.  There isn't a map of your street, with a little arrow pointing to your house that says "this person right hither just read your blog".  It's much more vague.  It narrows it down to countries, states and sometimes cities.

What I'm dying to know is how international people ended up here.  So, if you're from one of those other countries here on Planet Earth, I'd love to know what brought you to my blog.... and whether or not  it was an accident.  I'm itchin' to know what people in places like Germany, France, Australia, Canada, Russia and China clicked on to get here.

And as far as Latvia goes?  Well, hello there!  And welcome!  I had to look up where you were in my atlas.  (That kinda says something about the educational system here in the US, doesn't it?)

Operation Fattypants is going well.  Fourteen pounds have disappeared.  I still really want cake.  I'm just not having any....and I'm a wee bit sad about that. Sniff! Sniff!

Food portion sizes are completely ridiculous these days.  Some places serve eight times the normal serving of what we should be eating.  That's 800% more than what we should eat.  And a Bloomin Onion from the Outback is over 2500 calories?  It was 70 calories prior to bloomin' it!  No wonder we're such fatty-boom-a-lattys.

Even more frightening is the fact that I am so excited that I officially have relocated to a less crappy  section on a BMI chart!  I was doing the Forbidden Dance of Joy when I discovered this information.

Justin and I were sitting in bed on our iPads and I turned to him and said, all proud of myself, "Oh my gawd!  I just checked my BMI and I'm not Obese anymore!  Now I'm just Overweight!"

That there was a statement I never thought I would get excited about.  I'm thrilled to be in a new division of fatness.  (We are just full of action packed excitement over here.)

Speaking of losing stuff, would someone like to tell me where that sweet little baby of mine went to and who is this feisty-fresh little creature that was left behind in her place?!

Things I never thought I would hear Allie say:

"Calm down.  You don't have to be loud."
"Go!" (said while pointing elsewhere)
"I don't like you any more."
"Don't you tell me what to do!" (hand on hip, shaking finger at me)
"You're a very cheeky mommy!"
"I'm not talking to you any more." (as she turns and stomps away....for three seconds)
"I love playing with my grandchildren."

Say what?

Of all of the things she says that make my eyebrows shoot half way up my forehead, that last one freaks me out the most.  Her who?  Grandchildren?!

Me: "You have grandchildren?"
Allie: "Yes.  A boy and a girl."
Me: "Really?  How old are they?"
Allie: "They are just babies.  They are sooooooo cute."

When we ask their names, she usually gives us names that are probably popular in colonies on other planets like Mars or Saturn a hundred years from now.  Today the grandchildren were named Tanah and Ramah.  Nothing silly like Zingzong and Donkeykong.  (I totally would've taken that route)

This would seem like a silly conversation if it wasn't for a conversation I had with a Nun when Allie was one day old.  She walked into my hospital room, introduced herself, looked at Allie and said, "She has an old soul."

Granted, they are not strange words.  You hear it all of the time.  But for some reason, I thought it was shocking coming from a Nun.  It almost implied reincarnation.  I wasn't aware that the Nuns were into that these days.  Those wild and crazy wives of God are going all New Age I guess.

The fact is that we often forget that Allie's only two.  She's like a little grown up in a toddler body.  The things she says to us just don't seem to match up with her age.  When Justin asked her how she slept last night, her response was, "I slept well, thank you."  My response to the same question?  "Like crap."  I'm not as polite and delightful in the morning.

When she tells us to "calm down", she says it in this low, soothing voice while touching my arm.  In the moment, it really pisses me off, but when I think about it later, it seems very mature.  Too mature.  Freakishly mature.

What in the hell is she going to say to us when she's a teenager and we are REALLY bugging out about something?  With all of the therapists and psychological knowledge in our families, I can see her getting all "Frasier Crane" on our crazy asses.  We will keep her busy for quite some time.  Probably into her NEXT lifetime.

Dreaming of another lifetime......

Intro Into A Bigger Topic

THE HEAT IS HERE! Just a little announcement in case you forgot or don't go outdoors. Call it public service if you like. It's my pleasure to pass on this information to you as I stand outside in the blazing heat with my 8000 SPF sunscreen on, wearing my dorky sun visor to try to protect my face from more freckles, and an ice pack jammed in my cleavage.

Yup, you read that right. Chilly cleavage.  It's a little trick I learned when I was doing this same thing while eight months pregnant. If you stick an ice pack between (or under) your boobs, you feel a bit better. It cools your stuff right off. You learn something every day, dontcha? (Wink!)

I was pleasantly surprised to hear the responses to my last post, in that Im not alone with this whole bubble/worry/protection thing Ive got going on with Allie. Im not happy to hear that other people worry too, just that Im in good company. Some of you responded via Facebook directly to the link, thru Facebook Message, or in conversation. It inspired me to take a direction for the next few entries that is a little uncomfortable for me, but I get a good feeling about it.

The purpose of this blog is not to pontificate (that's my four star word usage for the week....I have to throw them in just to feel better about the FAT college loan that looms over us) (I'll link to the definition if you don't know it. Don't be shy. I didnt know what it meant at one time either.  Click on the word.) This purpose was two-fold:

1- To exercise my love of writing, silliness and sharing

2- A project to see how people connect via social media and the internet.  Social media is taking people down; but it's also bringing people together.  We share so many common ideas, interests and experiences; I want to see how those commonalities can bring us together in a positive way.

So, I'm taking a step toward a subject that I feel needs to be talked about amongst us regular peeps.  Celebrities have discussed it, but it still has a stigma.  I invite you to please respond directly in the comments field if you have something to say.

You don't have to give your real name. However, if you read along and something makes you go, "I KNOW what she's saying! This is what happened to me (or my relative).....this is what I did to get thru it......this is what I'm still suffering with" you have something valuable to share. Very valuable. In fact, two years ago I was begging to hear what people had to say. And I found silence.

This will be spread out over a few entries. If you make it through them all, I thank you for joining me on my journey. If you just peek out of curiosity, I'm thrilled that you stopped by.  I'll begin by giving you a little back history first.

Hey.  I think I'm quite nervous ......

I've suffered with anxiety and panic attacks since I was about 26. My first one occurred in a CVS. I walked thru the door and dropped. It's rather amusing because at the time I had a serious addiction to shopping for products as CVS. It's almost like I was coming home to the Mothership to die.

I thought I was having a heart attack and I wound up in the hospital getting Valium shot into my booter by a big fat needle. I cried for almost three days. Non-stop. I am not exaggerating. I have a witness.

I know why I was suddenly "blessed" with this disorder, but that's a story that can be saved for another should anyone gives a rat's ass.  I've had many more of those experiences since that day, but the last few years I have had a grip on it.  I've been on medication for anxiety and panic attacks ever since that first time.  Less people find me sprawled out on the floor because now I see it coming and have the skills to work through it and keep it low key.

When I found out I was pregnant with Allie I immediately stopped taking every bit of medication I had. It wasnt about me anymore. It was about her. For the next 9.5 months I would just have to deal with my own bullshit because my little girl was not going to have one stitch of medication in her body before she was even born.

This was MY choice. Other people have made different choices and I think neither is wrong and I see benefits to both.  For whatever reason I decided that I couldn't handle putting anything that wasn't natural or clean in my body during that time.

I had some WICKED withdrawals. And in true Vicki Form, they started in a courthouse while I was dealing with a traffic ticket. This couldn't begin at home while I was watching Survivor on the couch? Nooooo. In court with a hundred of my closest strangers.

This unpleasant event lasted about a week and a half (the withdrawals, not court). All I could think of was, 'This is nothing compared to what real drug addicts go through. How in the hell do they do it??' I had a person in my life who suffered with serious addiction and God allowed me to see a tiny bit of what he went through for so many years through different eyes. I guess that was a blessing that came out of it.

After Allie was born, I thought that I would just continue on my medication-free lifestyle. I was feeling good and I was learning to deal with my anxiety attacks quite well. Plus, I wanted to breastfeed (I didnt carry these damn things around all of these years without utilizing their purpose!). I told my family, "No more drugs. I'm done with medication!" and they supported my decision despite the fact that they weren't sure it was the right one.

It wasn't. That decision opened a door to what I tell people was the most dreadful experience of my life thus far. For two and a half months I lived in bliss with my new baby and my husband, and when alone I lived in terror. No exaggeration. Terror. And I felt alone.  Very, very alone.

(continued in next post)