Proven guilty.

This is a long, seemingly pointless post but I have to get it off my chest.

Yesterday I was driving my husband's big ol' purple Explorer to go pick up a bunk bed I found on Craigslist for $65. Great find, the frame was in good shape, it was simple and met all of my requirements in a bunk bed. 

I pulled up, chatted with the seller and got some back story on the bed and its previous owner and we loaded it up. After it had been loaded up and we were saying goodbye she said, "Oh, I forgot to mention, it doesn't have any of the screws so you'll need to buy those."
Oh...um...what?....!!

I asked her what kind of screws I need to look for, how many, etc. She tells me and my immediate response is to kindly say, "Oh...ok, thank you for letting me know" which was said in an odd tone as my friendliness dwindled into a tone of uncertainty. 

What just happened...did I just get swindled??

I'm driving home mad at myself, thinking about how many screws I need, how much it's going to cost, how hard it's going to be to put this bed together now and how I'm going to tell my husband that we now need to spend money on hardware that should have been included but I was too dumb to even think to make sure it was there. 

I call him to see if he's home from the store yet and to gauge whether it's a good time to tell him I'm going to the hardware store on the way home. Every bump, every turn and every stop was making all of the pieces of the bed knock around in the back and as I approached a yellow light I cruised through so I wouldn't have to slam on the breaks and potentially hurl the pieces in the back around further. I went through the intersection and as I went under the light I saw it turn red above me. 

I continue to talk to my husband when I see a police car turn on their lights and U turn in the busy street to pull me over. 

Oh, wonderful. Just wonderful. 

I pull over and fumble around for all of the paperwork I'll need. I always get jittery and flustered in moments like this. The officer comes to the window and I hand him my license and registration. He says, "I suspect you know why I pulled you over." I truly didn't. I wasn't speeding, if my tail light was out then I wouldn't necessarily be aware of that, I got through the intersection before the light turned red. I told him I actually didn't and he lowered his face and looked at me with his brows furrowed.

"You ran through that red light back there."

I don't say anything at first but I know for sure I did not run a red light. He sees me start to say something and hesitate, so he's waiting for me to say something. I get my nerve up and then tell him I continued through because it was yellow and I didn't want to slam on my brakes. He then shuts me down saying, "It was clearly red when you approached the intersection."

Wow. No, it wasn't. And really? I'm not being argumentative, I'm calmly telling you what happened. 

He sees something on my registration that I have to clarify about, I don't remember what because I was still trying to decide if I should keep defending myself or if I should let it go. I mention one more time that I really only continued to go through the intersection because the light was yellow, it wasn't red until I got through. He narrows his eyes and says, "You basically overshot it."

Did I just piss off an officer? Does he just think I was being careless and drove through a red light? Does he think I'm making things up just to get away with it?? 

He asks why I'm driving this vehicle, but he says it in a tone like whatever I'm going to say is not going to be believable. I tell him it's my husband's car. 

"Who is your husband?"

"Palmer."

"Then why is Matthew on here?"
I look at what he's referring to and he's pointing at our friend Ryan's name who my husband shared the car with. I explain that, and that his middle name is Matthew and he just looks at me. Then he asks for the title. I give it to him and he says, "Why is your husband's name not on this?"

"I...I don't know. I have no idea."

"It says here this car was given as a gift. Your husband didn't sign it. This is an open title which is illegal." He says this all in an "I should have known this" kind of tone and pauses, waiting for me to say something.

"Oh...oh, I thought he did sign it...I thought I remembered him saying he took care of this paperwork. I'm sorry. I don't know anything about this." 

He looks at the papers, looks at me and then says he'll be back.

I hear more sirens and I truly think he's calling for backup and I'm going to jail. 

I start to shake. I can't believe he's talking to me like I'm lying. I can't believe he's talking to me like I'm stupid. I feel stupid, I don't know anything about this title situation, I just know I want to get my girl's bunk bed home. 

He comes back with a ticket. A $220 ticket for running a red light and a license violation. He's saying stuff and I'm hardly listening because I can't believe that number. 

He says "Drive safely."

"You too."

....

I pull back into the street, wait at the next yellow light, text Palmer the bad news and cry. I lose my shit. This $65 bargain trip has ended up costing $300. Plus hardware. 

 I pull into the driveway and get my crap together. Wipe away the mascara, take deep breaths, it'll be fine. I see my husband's face and he smiles, totally un-phased by everything that's happened in the last 30 minutes and I lose my crap again. He's understanding, he's sorry for not having the title done, he's assuring and everything will be fine. He compliments the bed. I cry and tell him how sorry I am, how the officer treated me like I was a criminal, treated me like I was a liar, talked to me like I was foolish. I try to get a hold of myself because the girls are around now and it's unsettling to see me crying so much. We get inside, we talk cheerfully about the bed, I go to the bathroom to, ya know, take care of that, and I start crying again. Just stupid sobbing. Palmer comes in and rubs my back. I'm telling him how unfair I felt everything was. Yes, I probably did break a rule. But I felt the cost was steep, the officer a d-bag and I feel like if anyone is going to get caught and in trouble for something - it's me. It was one more unfair thing thrown onto an increasingly tall pile of tough, unfair things. 

But then another realization hits me. I'm sitting there in the bathroom, compromised, crying my eyes out over a ticket and a mean cop and his mean tone and thinking about everything that led up to this moment. What led to this moment? The fact that we wanted the kids to have a bunk bed. Why did she need a bunk bed now? Because she's in a toddler bed that she outgrew almost a year ago. And because the frame is broken which makes it slope to the right and the mattress is paper thin and torn and it pained me to see her sleeping in it anymore. 

It was guilt. 

Guilt that my little girl doesn't have the bed I think she deserves. Does she need a new bed, sure, eventually. Does she need a new bed? No. I know kids who had NO bed- zero beds- for part of their lives. My kids have beds. And hers was a really nice one her grandparents bought her when she was born. Why is it not good enough? Why am I pained with guilt every bedtime? Because I feel her discomfort. And I want my kids comfortable. We all do, right? 

But where is the line between providing comfort and breeding entitlement? 

I was feeling guilt so heavy that I compulsively searched for bunk beds and couldn't let her sleep in her old bed any longer. The $65 I used for the bed was my birthday money I was going to use for a second bra (I know, TMI and totally lame). In the list of priorities, things like bras and makeup and clothes for myself get knocked down lower and quicker as my kids get older. 

Earlier in the week I had come across a list of "9 Things We Should Get Rid of to Help Our Kids" and, though I normally skip over lists like this because it ends up just being noise, I read this one. It was tremendous. It spoke to me deeply. Everything on that list is something we live by or I'm struggling to live by. We've got rid of three trash bags full of toys since this last spring because we're purging "stuff" and let me say, I can fully attest that they are absolutely not missing any toys and the lack of clutter has made everyone happier. We try hard to explain the value of money and be honest about what mommy and daddy can afford because we can't buy everything. And won't. But since the day Bella was born I struggle with guilt. Guilt driving me to overspend, to make her comfortable, to help her flourish.

It's not healthy for any of us and that moment on the toilet thinking about the bunk beds that ended up costing me over $300 was enough to help me realize it was enough. The bed was a good find, really, and they are going to thoroughly love and enjoy it. It's something she needed sooner rather than later and she'll be comfortable. 

But I have got to work on not letting guilt drive me to provide anything anymore. 

And I have got to buy another bra. 

Chicken Enchilada Soup (or Chickadilla Soup if you don't mind sounding like an idiot)

Chickadilla Soup

1 lb boneless skinless chicken breasts or thighs

30 oz diced tomatoes

10 oz mild enchilada sauce

4 oz chopped mild green chilies

1 quart chicken broth

2 15 oz cans of black or pinto beans

10 oz frozen corn

1/2 medium onion, chopped

1 Tbs chopped fresh cilantro

1 tsp cumin, chili powder and salt

1/2 tsp black pepper

Place all ingredients into a 6 qt slow cooker. Mix. Cook on Low for 6-8 hours or on High for 3-4 hours.

After a few hours, once chicken is thoroughly cooked, remove from pot, shred and return to pot for remaining cook time. Add serving options per taste. 

Serving suggestions: tortilla chips, hot sauce, sour cream, lime wedges, fresh avocado, shredded cheese, fresh cilantro.

I loved this soup though I renamed it Chicken Enchilada Soup because saying "Chickadilla" makes me feel like an idiot. It's from Kashi where their tagline says, "A kid-friendly recipe with good stuff inside" and they were for real. Bella helped me make it and ate it really well - all 7 days it fed us. It says it freezes well so I made it for a friend after she had her baby and I think it froze well for her. This is definitely one of my favorite new recipes. 

What You Need to Know About the Darkness.

"I don't want my kids to remember the days that mommy was sad. I don't want my kids to remember the days where mommy wasn't herself. Where mommy didn't want to get up. Where mommy didn't speak. The days where they could misinterpret my actions or lack thereof to mean I didn't like them.

The acting role I put on in front of other people, I wish it would carry over into their little lives inside our home. That I could always have my smile on, make my jokes and pretend with them that Mama's day couldn't get any brighter. Only because I don't want them to know how dark it feels.

But these are the days where I parent from the pit. The dark pit. I have to get through it and out of it and over it and I will. Until then, I have to just keep going. And they likely will remember it. They'll remember Mama got sad. Mama was emotional. Mama had her baggage. Hopefully it will make for colorful stories when they're older and maybe help them cope with their own emotions they'll likely inherit from two passionately emotional parents.

The last bout of this led me to make the heavy decision to begin taking meds again. I'd been on medication for most of my life so this was no course I was stranger to. There had been times in the past where the prescription in my hands felt like a life preserver thrown out to save me. (Remember when your prescription was written out on paper for YOU to deliver to the pharmacist?? Until I wrote that I forgot that that was a thing!)
This time, it felt like such a defeat. I couldn't do it anymore. On my own. I couldn't do it. I needed the help and it was a punch in the gut.

Since being on something life has felt so much more bearable. Like the scales weren't always tipping over, out of bounds and out of control. But I've sunk back into something so familiar. And it's ok, I just wish I knew how to better parent through it."

I'm not good at sharing the dark things. At letting people into the dark times. I wrote the above in one of my dark times from the pit. I don't talk to anyone about it, I make jokes instead. I don't cry to anyone, I smile instead. If you ask me how I'm doing in these times, I'll say I'm fine. But I'll go home and feel totally alone in the pit of depression. So I'll write about it and process through it (usually with my poor husband trying his best to be beside me) and instead of clicking "publish", I'll click "save". There it will sit in draft form on my computer so I can continue to hide in the darkness until I can fight my way out again.

I struggle with it everyday. I fight it everyday. I survive it everyday. 

I've had depression for most of my life so I am no stranger to it and it no stranger to me. In its clutch you find yourself thinking through what life would look like without you. There have been dangerous times where the conclusion I came to was brighter, better, without me. And the darkness almost won out. Thankfully, luckily, truthfully, I'm so glad it didn't.

I am no stranger to it and it no stranger to me. I know how to starve it of its plots and persuasions. 

There was a day a couple of months ago, though, that I entertained the darkness with its ideas of the end. I know how this sounds. I don't think of suicide all the time. I promise, no one has anything to worry about. I'm bluntly stating what ongoing depression looks like.

So I thought about it. What would this life look like without me? And what came back to me wasn't so bad.
And I knew I needed more help.

My strength of mind wasn't helping me anymore. My positive demeanor wasn't helping me anymore. Praying about it wasn't helping me anymore. Singing, playing, laughing wasn't helping anymore.

"To my fellow Bad Ass Survivors: Take your goddamn meds and don’t listen to anybody who tries to shame you out of them. They just don’t know- because they don’t have to know. They are two-legged men calling prostheses a crutch. They will not be there in the dark with you. They won’t. You can choose to ignore their reckless voices now or the monster’s voice later. Bite the freaking bullet and swallow the damn pills. I think of my medicine like I do my faith- if I find out one day that it’s all bullshit- oh, well. It made me happy and helped me love life and my people better." - Glennon Doyle, Momastery

And I knew I needed the life preserver. I needed the medicine I tried so hard to do without for so long. I had believed I was too strong for antidepressants. I could do without them. I didn't want them. It's frowned upon greatly to take them during pregnancy and my withdrawals from it during my first pregnancy were brutal. My postpartum depression devoured me alive and I was too afraid and too ashamed to take anything for it. 

I'm not going to risk birth defects. I'm not going to risk withdrawals. I'm stronger than that. I can do this. 
But I couldn't. 

I walked into the Doctor's office with my two girls and told the Doctor, through choked back tears, a faulty smile and matter of fact voice that I couldn't do it on my own anymore. 

And since that day, my own dark passenger has shut the hell up. 

When Robin Williams died, everyone was shaken and grieving. It was like losing a father figure. And so many people were so absolutely baffled as to how someone so happy could kill them self. How could someone be hurting so bad and hide it so well.

Some of us were shaken to our core for exactly that reason. Some of us do that and some of us suddenly felt so unsafe.

His darkness won out. 
It's devastating.
It's horrifying. 
I'm not safe either.

And I found myself angry at the people calling him "selfish". The people forming arrogant and ignorant opinions about him and the people who suffer from a darkness so bleak.
I found myself fuming at people who took it upon themselves to advise others to stay away from anti depressants. 'Pray about it instead', they said. 'Draw close to God instead," they said. 'Watch your diet instead'. 'Take herbal supplements'

I'm here to punch all of those people in the throat. Right now. If you said that, I just punched you in the throat. You're shaming people away from something that could help them. So shut up.

All of those things are good. All of those things are important. SO IS TAKING YOUR MEDS. If your chemical imbalance is paralyzing you, please talk to someone about it. I'm begging you.

If taking a natural supplement helps you, that's fantastic and I want to give you a big hug- you have successfully silenced your darkness.
If exercising and eating gluten free everything helps you,  that's fantastic and I want to give you a big hug- you have successfully silenced your darkness.
If taking anti-depressants and making sure you don't miss a single effing day helps you, that's fantastic and I want to give you a big hug- you have successfully silenced your darkness.

The shaming stops here, with the death of a great man who made some sort of positive impact on everyone. 

A man who didn't deserve this and his family who didn't deserve it either.

A man whose laugh and joy will forever silence the darkness that took him.

With the shock and mourning following Robin Williams' death, I find solace in the other voices ringing louder and louder. Telling people to seek help. Yelling for those hurting to seek help. Someone who needs to hear those voices will. We are still here.

"Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Days of the Week Craft - www.PlayAlongWithUs.com

My husband and I just recently launched Play Along With Us, a brand new YouTube channel for kids that's fun, funny, educational and doesn't suck. 

Have you even SEEN the crap out there that people poop out and slap the label "KIDS" on it? It's embarrassing - and sometimes flat out insulting!

So we're aiming to change that. 

Check out www.PlayAlongWithUs.com

So far we have launched a few videos, ranging from the Abc's to Old MacDonald's Farm. Another Play Along video's focus is learning the Days of the Week. That's a concept I have struggled with teaching (and maybe I tried to avoid it and hoped that she would just learn it on her own). There's a small handful of decent songs or activities I found on Pinterest that you can try to use to help teach them the correct sequence of days. Really though, other than pointing to a calendar and chanting the days of the week, there's not a lot of options. 

Enter Play Along! 

Palmer came up with a catchy song and ridiculous scenario on the YouTube video to visually show the days of the week in their appropriate sequence. 

We also came up with a corresponding craft of our own that incorporates color matching, word recognition and fine motor skills. 

(Oh, boy that sounds so official!)

And, the beautiful thing is this is all you need!

2 copies of a color swatch, 7 clothespins, a sharpie, glue and scissors

I grabbed 2 copies of swatches from 5 different colors because making the Week Chart different colored was appealing to me but you can make it a little easier on yourself and just do one color palate! 

If you're making them colorful: Choose which color you would like to start with. I chose blue so the first square (Sunday) is blue. Next I cut out a green square and glued it onto the second square (Monday) of the blue swatch. Then I cut out a red square and glued it onto the third square (Tuesday). Continue cutting and gluing squares to your heart's content. 

If you're sticking to one color palate: look at how beautiful the colors are and skip all of the aforementioned work.

Then take your second copy of the color swatches and cut out a sample of the matching color squares you previously cut and glued. Glue these samples to the clothespins. 

Finally, write on each clothespin the day of the week that matches the color sample on the clothespin and the color square. (Beginning with Sunday and ending with Saturday.)

I emphasized the beginning of the names of the days because they are often shortened and labeled that way but that part is totally up to you!

Once the glue is dry, match them up! See how many different games you can make with it! 

Done!

In this post I talk a lot about Boo-Bees.

Don't look at all of my tabs - I'm working on a project so just don't talk about it.

What do you notice here, besides a lot of boobs? 

I've been desperate for a new bra. When I say desperate, I mean the last bra I bought was when I was nursing and in a C cup and I'm wearing old B cups that don't fit because when I stopped nursing I shrunk to an A cup but bra shopping sucks bollucks so I just work with what I have (or don't have). That's what bra desperation looks like.

So, I saw a sponsored ad on Facebook for something that sounded a little bit like Stitch Fix for bras. 

Perfect. Someone else pick my bras out and mail them to me - that is where my life is at right now.

So I start perusing the bras and opening up the ones I like in new tabs (here, there is where my internet tab problem happens but we're not talking about that). At some point I realize that some of the styles I like aren't available in baby sizes. Baby sizes being an A cup or training bra which is what post baby body looks like sometimes.

I filter the search to my size and my selection is narrowed from "155 styles found" to "15 styles found". Wow. Ok, on the bright side, I don't have to spend too much time making a decision. Out of 15 I think I can find one I like. 

I don't like super padded bras, personally. I feel like I'm 10 with water balloons in my shirt. That being said, what did I notice about EVERY SINGLE OPTION for me?

In the title of each bra is "Push Up" (ok, fine) & "Add 2 Cups". 

WHAT?! I didn't click the "Porno-fy My Boobs" filter option. I checked. 

I just recently learned to not despise my boobs. I really took so much joy in the average sized bosom I had in the latter part of the breastfeeding time. And when I stopped nursing they became a total joke to me - I mean, they were bite size boobies after all - quite laughable. 

I tried to do that whole "lead by example" thing for my girls and worked to embrace my body. I still am, but things like this make that hard sometimes. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not dissing the site (I don't know enough to do that), I'm not dissing small boobs, not dissing large boobs. No boobs are under fire. I just needed to take a minute to point out that things like this happen on the regular which makes women feeling good about themselves harder to find. It makes women loving themselves harder to do. It makes women embracing themselves a less prominent voice.

It makes the game of comparison harder to ignore.

Now I will close that tab, think about how I will acquire a bra within the next year and play Go Fish with my pleading 4 year old.

Easter Bingo - Free Printable!

Maybe it's just us but this family loves Bingo. We found a Halloween Bingo game from The Crafting Chicks
that we printed out and played almost through Thanksgiving. We used it as a way to dish out our Halloween candy a little more gradually.

So, why not implement the same thing for Easter candy? Not that you need a reason for a good game of Bingo, though. Feel free to save and print the images for yourself! Just make sure you print an extra one out for calling cards. Happy Easter!

Card 1

Card 2

Card 3

Card 4

Easter Bunny Garland - FREE

Easter is on its way and we are so unprepared! I plopped 3 Easter eggs on the mantle and that's the extent of our holiday decor.
Thanks to happythought for our festive addition!
This garland is ADORABLE. And EASY. And FREE.

Follow this link over to happythought to input your email to print off your own!