Author Archives: thissideoftherainbow

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About thissideoftherainbow

First and foremost, I'm a mom & I love it more than anything else on this planet. I'm a talker. I'd like to think that keeping this blog will help me to reduce my chatter, but who am I kidding?

Limit The Smart Phone

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I wonder what it was like to be in a relationship before Facebook, Candy Crush and text messages ruled the world. I would like to think that people sustained eye contact during conversations. People surely had more intellectual discourse. Active engagement occurred when people were together – they listened with our the distraction of dings, whistles and vibrations. They responded thoughtfully without having to be torn away from a miniature screen. People interacted in-person. What a world that must have been, and how differently relationships must have been…

Of course, short of some sort of technological catastrophe, I will never know what that is like.

I feel as though my generation has lost bits of its humanity for many reasons, but technology is behind most of them. Those are arguments that could go one for days. Right now, I’m concerned with our inability to converse for more than 30 minutes – or even 10 minutes – without checking our phones. How ridiculous!

I am no innocent party, mind you. I am equally as addicted to Facebook as the average 26 year old woman. I have spent hours mindlessly flipping through Pinterest. I’m not much for games on my phone unless they are word games, but that has more to do with a lack of skill than a lack of interest. I spend more hours on my phone than I get to see my daughter on week nights.

I repeat…

I SPEND MORE HOURS ON MY PHONE THAN I GET SEE MY DAUGHTER ON WEEK NIGHTS.

That is ridiculous.

HOS and I have had “conversations” when the only eye contact were quick glances up from screens. We make life decisions with our eyes down instead of looking up and looking forward.

What is wrong with us?! (Us being the collective generation.)

It’s likely that I romanticize the pre-smart phone era as a magical land with improved relationships. I know that the world has always had its distractions, but I doubt any have been as in-your-face as this.

When I visit my dad, it’s a phone-free zone, mostly. It’s not a rule in his house, but a God-given gift. His home is an a little valley and the reception is terrible! Count your blessings, dad.

Of course, I could connect to the Internet and access most things that way, but I choose not to because I enjoy the temporary separation from my awful relationship with my iPhone. I can better enjoy the limited time with my family. It is truly a gift.

I think it’s time I brought this to my house. In a drastic move, I could purchase a cell phone jammer to truly disable my connectivity… Or, a more sane approach will be to put my phone away when I walk in the door. The sound will be on in case of emergencies, but the phone itself doesn’t need to be within an arms length.

I want my time with my child to outweigh my time spent on this piece of hardware.

I want my time spent with HOS to really be with HOS.

I want my family to know what it means to spend time together and not just time next to one another.

It may be twelve days late, but I believe this will be the best resolution I could execute for me and my family.

In 2014, I will limit the amount of time I spend on my phone at home to no more than one hour per day. This phone time can only be used while Charli is sleeping.

May my life be better for it!

How do you think limiting phone time would impact your life?

Toddler Squats

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I started working out a few weeks ago. … Again.

Typically, I’ll work out for for several weeks followed by falling off the band wagon for several months. This is my exercise cycle.

In an attempt to break this cycle, I’m working on my form. I honestly doubt I’m doing these exercises correctly. So, I was watching a video on how to squat correctly. HOS was acting out the instructions from the video. Charli decided that looked like a good time and started squatting, too.

Her form isn’t bad! She squats a little too low, but that could be my envy speaking. This kiddo is built for exercise!

Here’s a quick view of HOS and Charlotte doing squats!

Forgive and Forget

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I want to forgive and forget the way Charlotte does. I want to be able to literally forget something awful within seconds of it happening. I want to forgive myself as freely as my wonderful baby.

Tonight was one of those frazzled nights when you call (or text) a friend to tell her how you are failing as a mother. I typically choose my friends without kids.. They know me best, and they aren’t going to spend long amounts of time explaining what worked and didn’t work for their children.

No offense, fellow parents! I love you, and I value your opinion. We parents have a tendency, however, to provide our opinions even when we aren’t asked. I do it every day!

So why did I feel like a complete and utter failure? Why did I instantly wish I could go back in time? Why?

I made my child cry.

And not the whining, pouty tears. These were legit, mouth wide open and eyes shut tight tears.

Basically, I suck.

Charli’s love-hate affair with dinner time has become a stressful ordeal in our household. Not to mention, it takes 30+ minutes for her to complete a meal. During the “hate” phases, she likes to throw the food on the floor. She will dangle handfuls over the edge of her tray and look me straight in the eye as if she is daring me, begging me to say something. Her cubby little fingers open up to release the food while I’m in mid-sentence…

“Nuh-”

*sigh*

“O.”

Charlotte decided to not eat a single bite of dinner tonight. She thought it best to toss the food onto the floor.

I asked nicely.

I asked sternly.

I told her we could sit there all night.

I lightly tapped her hand and said no.

She taunted me.

She hit at me.

She squeezed the life out of the good and threw it down on the plate.

She continued to drop the food onto the floor while staring me in the eyes defiantly.

When she grabbed a large piece and threw it onto the floor, I bopped her little hand. The top of her hand was slightly pink, and her beautiful face scrunched into and awful wail as I apologized over and over. I quickly removed her from the high chair to kiss her cheeks and beg forgiveness.

It took less than a minute for Charli to forgive and forget my too severe punishment.

Me?

I forgive myself… A little. I have a lot of work to do to improve my patience. But forgetting is another story.

Happy New Year 2014

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Happy New Year!

With a new year comes reflection and resolution. I’m sure you’ve all seen enough blogs and social media posts about resolutions to last you until next year. I promise, I won’t be posting about losing weight to find happiness!

These are my resolutions for me and my family.

HOS and I resolve to dedicate more time to our relationship by having monthly date nights.

I resolve to pay more than the minimum payment on my debts while saving money weekly.

I resolve to decrease TV and technology time, so I can increase one-on-one time with my family.

I resolve to be thankful for the blessings given to me and mine.

I resolve to read one new book each month.

What are your resolutions for 2014?

bas·tard

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bas·tard
ˈbastərd/Submit
noun
1. archaic derogatory
a person born of parents not married to each other.
synonyms: illegitimate child, child born out of wedlock

I was not married to HOS when we became pregnant with Charlotte. We remain unmarried. But this post isn’t about our marital status. This blog is about ignorance.

One of my co-workers was teasing a new hire about whether or not another team member had children. I told her to ignore him, and jokingly told her I’m the only one in the department with an illegitimate child. The woman who sits next to me laughingly said, “Don’t you mean a bastard child.” 

If upon reading that you felt like someone had punched you in the gut and squeezed your heart at the same time, you may have felt a little of what I experienced. Tears quickly sprang to my eyes as I fought to recover some semblance of dignity before just losing it on someone I thought was my friend. 

She was instantly regretful. She apologized all over herself, and said that she thought I would find it funny. 

Funny… 

I think Kevin Hart is funny. 

My best friend, Katy, is funny. 

Labeling my daughter with a derogatory term could not be any further away from what I deem to be funny. 

For the first time in my life, I felt the sting of what so many people face every day – ignorance. The old me would have lashed out with some very personal, hateful retort. I said nothing. 

I let the word settle around me as I realized that, by definition, I could not deny the label that I put upon my daughter. I had just spoken the gentler words seconds before she destroyed my precious familial-perception. My daughter is illegitimate because HOS and I are not married (according to society).

So, what is the difference between bastard and illegitimate that makes all the difference? 

I believe it’s a case of ignorance vs. knowledge. 

It’s no different from asking the difference between n***** vs. African-American or black. 

It’s not different from asking the difference between f***** vs. homosexual or gay. 

All of these examples are about people who are treated differently and given derogatory titles because of something they were born into. (This is my opinion, and I do not wish to incite any debates about how someone’s sexual preferences are developed.) 

My heart aches for my daughter because she will have questions as she grows older. She’ll wonder why my last name is different from hers. Kids will ask her why her parents aren’t married. Charli will be teased. Kids will make jokes about her parents. And some day, some asshole (pardon my language) will tell my precious child that her parents didn’t even want her. While fighting off the urge to hunt down this little jerk, I will console her. I’ll wipe the tears from her big blue eyes and remind her over and over that she is the greatest gift God has given me. Planned or unplanned means nothing. 

While this pales in comparison to the struggles of other victims of ignorance, it is still painful. In the end, ignorance is ignorance. 

I ask again, what is the difference between bastard and illegitimate that makes all the difference? 

You tell me. 

From this day on, I will never refer to Charlotte as anything but the loved daughter of me and HOS. I choose to define legitimacy my own way – born within a loving, trusting, monogamous couple.

Her Mother’s Daughter

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HOS’ job keeps him busy most nights, so Ms. Charli is stuck hanging out with me. I’m afraid the poor child is doomed…

Every day brings new experiences that only perpetuate my belief that she takes after me.

These are the top 5 reasons I know my daughter is my mini-me.

1. She throws a tantrum when someone takes away her cookies. While this is true of most people, we have this awesome tantrum where we cautiously lower ourselves onto the floor to prevent injury. Once safely sitting on the floor, we commence flailing around like mad women.

2. Her finger nails are her weapon of choice. My cousins love sharing the story of the time it took three of the older cousins to hold me down and cut my nails so I would stop attacking them. I don’t remember the details of this scenario, but I do remember it happening. In an effort to overcome embarrassment, I say I was pretending to be Wolverine. … I wasn’t.

3. She eats anything off the floor. This can be read two ways – emphasizing anything or off. She does both. Tonight, she took noodles from the pan, toddled into the kitchen where she put them on the floor before picking them back up and eating them. She will also eat anything edible that is on the floor – including yesterday’s snacks.

4. She is mouthy. I don’t know what she is saying yet, but when she starts to use real words, I’m in for it! When I tell her no or raise my voice, little miss sassy pants will take a couple steps away from me, turn around and shake her index finger at my while babbling in a tone that is sure to dominate her teen years.

5. She eats anything. My best friend calls me a “human garbage disposal” for good reason. Charli isn’t far behind me. There have only been a few things she wouldn’t eat… And there have been a few things she ate that even I wouldn’t eat. I’m not complaining! She makes me feel like an awesome cook.

I claim all of these things to be inherited from me – good or bad. She also sleeps in the most uncomfortable positions, but this has to be shared equally with her daddy. He rarely looks comfortable…

Well, Charli, you’ll fight me on this for many years, but you really are your mother’s daughter!

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Dear HOS: Thank You

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Dear HOS,

I wanted to take a minute to thank you.

Thank you for taking Charlotte to daycare in the morning, and picking her up far more often than you should.

Thank you for cleaning.

Thank you for working so hard to take care of Charli and me. Thank you for sacrificing!

Thank you for changing dirty diapers, swinging Charlotte to sleep for months and for getting up at night.

Thank you for taking the time in the morning to snuggle with Charli.

Thank you for putting together a Christmas tree you really don’t care about, and then turning it on at night just for me.

Thank you for cleaning the litter box. This cannot be communicated enough! You truly deserve honors.

Thank you for loving my family – all 40ish of them.

Thank you for trying… Trying my cooking, trying my household ideas, trying to understand me… For any and every moment of effort.

Thank you for being my better half.

Thank you for being the dad of my beautiful daughter.

I know we get caught up in life. We don’t take enough time for one another. We often look at the relationship and think, “what’s being done for me?” I’m talking about myself now. I asked you this just a few weeks ago.

How selfish of me?

I know it’s human nature to want more, and I know I’ll always wish we had more date nights. But the truth is, I would rather be home, snuggling with you and Charli on the couch. Fancy dates or not, I’m very spoiled. And very loved.

Thank you for all the things I’ve listed, all the things I didn’t.

I love you!

XOXO

Angie

The Best Compliment

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Today I received a compliment that filled my heart with such joy, I just had to share.

I’m in a Christian women’s group called Leading Ladies. We are reading “The Resolution for Women.” Today we discussed a chapter about compliments.

I don’t care what religious affiliations you have – if any – every woman struggles with compliments. Whether giving or receiving, compliments are tricky.

As women, we over-think darn near everything! So you know we can’t hear someone say, “your hair looks great today!” without thinking to ourselves … Does it not look good other days? Does she really like it like this? REALLY?

And when we tell someone else, “I love that scarf!” we wonder… Did I sound fake? Why didn’t she compliment me back? She wasn’t very appreciative.

It’s exhausting!

Today’s lesson leader had us do an exercise where we went around the room and each person was complimented by every other person. I was mortified by this!

It turned out to be such an uplifting experience for me. These women told me their personal feelings about me, and they were good! I think we all spend so much of our lives feeling unnoticed. I realized today that people see. We just don’t always share.

Amongst the heartfelt, moving compliments given to me was that I’m a really great mom. (This made me cry. Shocking, I know!)

And the compliment that I will never forget was from my cubicle neighbor. She told me to I am kind and generous, and that I give to people who would never ever return the favor. She told me that she never knew someone as giving as me.

I couldn’t respond in the moment for fear of breaking down, but that was the best compliment I could have ever received because that has been my goal for so long. I want to be like my mom – a woman who gave freely of herself, but rarely took from anyone. She was such an amazing, thoughtful and caring woman.

I know now that I’m definitely on the right track with my life and who I am becoming.

My heart is full tonight!

Lub U

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I tell Charlotte that I love her every chance I get. The child hears me say it no less than 10 times per day. Tonight, while Charli lay back against me and watched my face intently, I told her I loved her. “Love you!”

She looked up at me with her big, blue eyes, and said “lub u.”

For the first time!

She smiled a smile that would melt the coldest if hearts.

I will remember the look on her face and the deep connection within our stares for the rest of my life.

I have been loved, but there is none greater than this!

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Dear HOS: I Can’t Take Any ‘Snore’

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(The posts I write and categorize as “Dear HOS” will be letters to my man. These brief letters will contain devotions of love, confessions of disappointment and thankfulness for our relationship. This topic will be a mixed bag of posts, but they will be genuine.)

Dear HOS,

I love you, and I missed you while you were away this weekend. The house seemed much emptier, the noises much louder and creepier, and the parenting was a little more difficult.

That being said…

I slept better than I have in weeks.

In recent weeks, I’ve rudely awakened you to let you know that you were snoring. LOUDLY. And despite my less-than-friendly midnight demands regarding nasal strips, you refused.

Tonight, though, you remembered! I don’t know if this was brought on by my threat of punching you in the face while you were sleeping or by you recognizing that your nasal congestion would amplify your snores.

It’s neither here nor there!

I greatly appreciate you remembering the nasal strips.

However…

They do not work.

Each time you inhale, the air entering your nasal cavities makes a sound that makes the little hairs in my ears stand up. It’s like someone held a chalkboard next to my left ear and ran their fingernails down it, and then stretched cotton balls. It’s like that, only worse.

My left ear is tingling and achy. I finally gave up. I’m cuddled on the couch with our cat who keeps purring. Each purr grates on my tender ears.

*sigh*

I love you, HOS, and I’m grateful you wore the nasal strips, but it’s not enough. It’s time we deal with the snoring… Before I snap.

Oh, if you’re wondering where I am, I’m sleeping on the couch in the basement. It’s the safest distance.

XOXO

Angie