You’re telling me it’s ok


Tomorrow, finally, is election day. Our country has shown itself to be broken, divided, and ugly during this season. Women, in particular, find ourselves in a cloud of anxiety – anxiety triggered by a presidential candidate’s bragging about sexually assaulting women, by the multiple accusations of sexual assault against him, and by the enormous response of shaming, discrediting, and excusing by supporters who will go to no end to stand by their candidate.

Here’s the thing about sexual abuse and assault: it results in lifelong anxiety and shame that’s just under the surface, waiting to be triggered. The national conversation surrounding Trump’s blatant misogyny and abuse of women has been a trigger for countless women, myself included.

“She’s a pig.” “She wouldn’t be my first choice.” “They let you do whatever you want.” “Grab her by the pussy.” “Have you seen her?” “Such a nasty woman.” “She’s gross.”

We are not deaf to these things, and we are certainly not deaf to the rush of voices across the country shouting angrily that women are too sensitive, they’re liars, they’re attention whores and ungrateful hypocrites.

To the Trump supporters around me who think his disgusting statements about and his actions toward women are “no big deal” or that he respects women despite consistently and blatantly acting to the contrary, you may feel like your words, your excuses are as inconsequential as Trump’s are, I say bullshit. Those messages are dangerous, and I think it’s irresponsible at best to keep perpetuating the excuses.

Because what you’re saying to me when you don’t call out your candidate when he refers to his own daughter as a “nice piece of ass” is that it is ok that young women are shown by society that they do not really own but are still completely responsible for what happens to their bodies in the hands of men. When the boy I loved in high school abused me for three years and turned out to be a violent sociopath, these messages told me it was my fault for not getting away or seeing clearly from the inside what was going on. As if that is something any 17 year old is capable of.

When you say “all men act that way”, you are telling me that those times I was rubbed against on a dance floor in a bar, when I just wanted to dance with a local band, I should’ve been grateful. You’re saying that it’s fine that those testosterone and booze-filled college men who had to be told “I have a boyfriend” in order to leave me alone because “no thanks” isn’t legitimate but “a man has already claimed me” is, those boys are a norm that is completely ok with you.

When a lying, womanizing, not-good-enough-to-call-a-man I was involved with in college manipulated me and his other girlfriend to hide his cheating and make sure we were suspicious of eachother and of ourselves, defenses like those of Donald Trump told me I should just be ashamed and admit I was a slut. When that same man came to my apartment with the intention of doing things I wasn’t ok with, that I said no to and struggled against, those hateful attitudes told me I probably deserved to be pinned face down on my bedroom floor, raped, and made to act like nothing ever happened. And I never reported the assault because no way in hell was I going to put myself through the public crucifixion that happens to college rape victims in small towns.

So when you call Trump’s accusers ugly or liars, then cheer when he says he will sue his victims for coming forward, you’re telling me it is okay for a man to hold down a woman and take what he wants and, more importantly, that it’s dangerous to report such a violation because we all know women only report rape when they’re desperate.

I don’t want any sympathy or attention. Until today, I’ve kept my stories to myself to avoid re-victimization or questions, and only a few of my closest people know them. But then a presidential candidate triggered my anxiety and sent me into a tailspin. Thousands of women came forward bravely to share their assault stories, and thousands more men excused Trump’s behavior as if it was normal. As if we have no right to feel safe as long as we have the nerve to carry around these female bodies. As if we can’t be trusted with these bodies because we aren’t the ones who know what we really want. So I’m adding my voice to the growing national conversation running parallel to this destructive one. Because until we all tell our stories and get angry and stand up and build a community of support, the destructive conversation will be the only one people are listening to. We have to be louder.


NaBloPoMo and Some Blog CPR

NaBloPoMo and Some Blog CPR

It is the second of November, which means NaBloPoMo started yesterday. Which also makes me a day late not only in giving cpr to my comatose blog but also my NaBloPoMo commitment. Story of my life.

I’m hoping the rhythm of daily blogging will come back like the fluid up and down of a bike pedal, albeit with all the clumsy swerving of a kid whose ride has been parked in the garage for the cold part of a year.

The last ten months have vacillated between the great highs and lows that come with parenting kids like mine. You know, the human kind. But in all of that, I have missed blogging tremendously. Blogging gives me the vehicle I need to find my own voice and connect my threads, and there have been some things on the plate that I can’t wait to get out there.

So, you’ll all stick with me while I wade back into giving just the kind of unsolicited, highly articulate parenting advice, emotional word vomit, and hysterical anecdotes you’ve missed over the last ten months, won’t you?

A Lessening Weight


I’m going to be writing a little this week about where we are now headed with Little K and his special needs, so I wanted to repost this for a little background on what his Apraxia is looking like after 2 years of hard work.  This was originally posted on Rocky Parenting

“Do you ever forget about K’s Apraxia, and then suddenly remember it?” I asked my husband.  “All the time,” he said.  We were standing in the kitchen, watching K dance around to a little ditty that was playing in his head.  On the way home from the store that day, K had said something was “silly,” and I’d remembered suddenly a sign K used to have for silly when he couldn’t verbalize any words.   It was an adorable approximation, and it was his favorite sign.

When K was first diagnosed with Developmental Apraxia 23 months ago, I would never have believed it would become a thing so routine that I’d actually forget he had it.  At first, it was with us all the time – like a weight we’d gotten tangled in had been trailing heavily everywhere we went.  Now, we’ve built speech therapy and sensory accommodations so intricately into our lives that it pervades every aspect while at the same time fading invisibly.  I think that’s the wonder of special needs: they take over your life and your life absorbs them, making everyone reevaluate their plans and add some flexibility.

K continues to make unbelievable gains.  The little boy whose mouth struggled to make a sound other than a scream is right now narrating an entire rescue scene with toy Transformers.  The child who hid his head in my shoulder if a stranger looked at him six months ago told a receptionist last week what he ate for breakfast.   He’s ditched his sign language in favor of trying every new word that comes his way, and he practices with so much patience when the words come out wrong.

His therapist equates speech development for kids with Apraxia to shoveling snow.  You shovel and shovel as you practice those words, and sometimes the neuro-pathway clears up for a while, but there’s always the chance another storm will come and pile more snow on that path you worked so hard to clear.  But you just keep on shoveling, and eventually the path is passable.  Accommodating a developmental disorder requires the same kind of shoveling through frustrations and regressions and circumstances beyond your control.  You never quite stop shoveling, but the snow gets lighter and lighter.

Now, K has such a big vocabulary that I do forget about the days I had to keep looking into the backseat of the car to see what he was saying with his hands.  When I can keep facing forward and driving while he talks, it’s easy to forget how hard his little mouth works to get those sounds out.  Sleepiness and stress catch him by surprise and make him stumble over word after word after word, but my brave little trooper just keeps shoveling until he’s said what he has to say.  In those times we can’t deny his Apraxia, but we stop to sit quietly in the snow while he shuffles words along the path.   To the people in his life who patiently take the time to hear and understand my sweet K, it’s obvious his path is headed somewhere magnificent.

Parenting All the Wrong Ways


At dinner last night, one of my best friends was describing the kind of small parenting nightmare we all run into roughly three hundred forty seven times per day.  Her son had acted out, she’d disciplined him, and now a week later she is questioning what she did.  “I put him in time out – and I just read that you’re not supposed to do ‘time outs’ anymore, so I felt really bad,” she said mid-story.

Time outs are just one of the many, many things that parents can do wrong.  By using them.  By not using them.  By using them too frequently.  By using them the wrong way.  By using them too infrequently.  Really, evidence shows that no matter how you are using or not using time outs, you are irreparably altering your child’s emotional development.  I’m sorry to break it to you.  You’re doing everything wrong.

According to Parents magazine, “Sometimes the best way to cool off a heated conversation is with a time out.”

According to an article in TIME, time outs are “hurting your child” no matter how you are using them.

One children’s hospital calls time out “a frequently used and positive intervention that can help modify children’s negative behaviors.”

Yet another therapist’s article says that time out damages a child’s “core sense of security and connection.”

What is very clear here is that nothing is.  Time out, sleep training, childcare choices, discipline strategies…we can go insane reading too much information on any one parenting subject because nothing is consistent.  And in reality, it depresses us and causes anxiety when we never know what is “right” for our children.  We stop listening to what we know is right for our individual children in our unique settings, with the parenting tools we have at hand, and start trying to slog through the mess of information that essentially tells us we can never be good enough at raising our kids.

No one strategy can apply to every single child in every home except consistent love.  I’m a fan of attachment parenting, but if that isn’t how you bond with your kids, that doesn’t mean you are less than.  Just as I am no less than the parent who never uses a time out when their child is out of control and could benefit from simple removal from the situation.

But that is not the message we get online or in “expert” books, blogs, or conversations.  And so we question our mothering.  When we question too much about our every parenting move, we get distracted by the millions of options for parenting the right way, the millions of things that are detrimental to children in every way.  We spend so much time reading about the perfect techniques for getting our children to sleep or eat or do their homework that we forget to look at our children and ask them, with our words and with our trials and errors, what will work for them.  What will work for us.

Because we’re parents, and we know.  When I slow down and watch my three-year-old, it is so much more clear to me what he needs. When I quit worrying how my actions – when they are loving intentions at the very core – are surely negatively affecting my sons or which expert opinion I read in the latest magazine issue that contradicts everything I know has been working, I can at least begin finding out what my little one needs. I still lay in bed at night and worry that I’ve done it wrong or that I’ve damaged my kids in some small way, but hopefully I am finding my own way.


Kindergarten Fears

Kindergarten Fears

My older son started kindergarten this year, and we were expecting him to love it once he got past initial worries.  He was anxious to begin with – he was worried he wouldn’t know anyone, worried he would be late to school , worried his teacher might not be as nice as his preschool teacher had been.  Once school started and he realized he did know kids in his class, that it’s ok to be late once in a while, and that his teacher is just as nice as the preschool teacher, I figured it would be smooth sailing.

As it turns out, not every child, even the well-adjusted ones, loves kindergarten. Even kids who love to learn and love the idea of school can have a setback with a change as big as starting public school. And don’t get me wrong, he likes kindergarten; it is just very, very stressful for him.

N has always had anxiety about new things, but until kindergarten started in such a difficult way for him, I didn’t realize just how much pressure he puts on himself.  When he misses an instruction during a game of tag in gym class, he feels embarrassed and worried even if the gym teacher doesn’t notice.  He has cried several afternoons after school because he said it’s “too much for him” to worry about doing everything perfectly during school hours.

We’ve never had a house where anyone feels outside pressure to be perfect, and I try to reward effort or kindness over perfection and being the best at things.  But some children are just born anxious, and I think my N is one of them.  So I started looking into things I could do to help him survive a little more easily.

Statistically, 10-20% of school-aged children experience anxiety.  It is the most common mental health condition in children and adults, and luckily it is one of the easiest to deal with before it becomes debilitating.  It is nice to know that my child isn’t alone, and that there is expert advice out there to help me help him.

The Child Mind Institute has some excellent suggestions for helping children deal with anxiety.  Among their list of suggestions is this:

“The message you want to send is, ‘I know you’re scared, and that’s okay, and I’m here, and I’m going to help you get through this’…You can’t promise a child that her fears are unrealistic—that she won’t fail a test, that she’ll have fun ice skating, or that another child won’t laugh at her during show & tell. But you can express confidence that she’s going to be okay, she will be able to manage it, and that, as she faces her fears, the anxiety level will drop over time. This gives her confidence that your expectations are realistic, and that you’re not going to ask her to do something she can’t handle.”

Giving children skills to manage their anxiety will help them be successful in life without being afraid of failing.  Because they will fail, and we have to let them.  But we can work with them to be okay with not being the best at everything, not being perfect, and not being afraid to be who they are.  One thing I have learned while helping my son navigate the first month of kindergarten is that sometimes we don’t even know these worries are in our children.  If we don’t ask or don’t pay close attention to what is going on with them, we may miss it altogether.  Had my son not broken down over a Lego fight with his brother that would never have fazed him otherwise, I would not have thought to ask him what was really wrong, and I would never have known he was constantly worrying about school.

Now that the communication is open and I’m making a big effort to curb some of this anxiety, we can talk about it, run through scenarios that might come up, and then debrief after each long day at school.  If my son can manage to get through some of the smaller hiccups like forgetting an instruction, he can move onto dealing with life’s bigger unknowns and hopefully learn to deal with his internal pressure in positive, productive ways.


*A version of this post first ran on Greeley Moms.

The Boring Mommy Blues


As it turns out, it is not my full-time job to be their entertainment.  Even mommies need a sick day!

The Boring Mommy Blues

We all have those days when we suck at being moms.  When we’re tired or sick or hurting or just otherwise checked out a little for whatever reason.  At least, I hope we do, and I’m not the only one who’s spent a day saying “no” to playing with my kids.  Who’s asked them to entertain each other while Daddy’s at work because I can’t think of one more activity to do together, and even if I could I don’t have the energy for it.

A few days ago I woke up with an anvil in my sinuses and fire in my throat, aching all over.  Were my job not such a workaholic’s dream, I would’ve called in sick.  But of course I didn’t have that option…read more at Rocky Parenting