Body Dysmorphia

I’ve been NOT liking my body ever since my Aunt told me I was fat, I was very young. I thought I had BD, but after taking this unofficial test… I may have to rethink a few things.

My hubby calls me sexy, desirable, and a veritable¬†buffet of scrumptious… well, you know. ūüėČ

But I’ve not liked what I see in the mirror for so long, I think it’s become a habit.

Here is the unofficial test: BODY DYSMORPHIC DISORDER TEST

As always, if you answer yes to most of these, seek professional help/diagnosis.

We women can be a fickled bunch! Just be the best YOU! NO ONE can beat you at that!

…Learned To Be Content…

Philippians 4:9 Whatever you have learned and received and heard from me, and seen in me, put these things into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. 10 Now I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned,but you had no opportunity to show it. 11 I am not saying this out of need, for I have learned to be content regardless of my circumstances.

To be honest, my actions of late haven’t been very gracious. My personal Facebook page is littered with my anger and frustration.
It does not escape me that verse 9 tells you to practice what you’ve learned, received and heard from me. Well, apologies, my actions may not be pleasing to the Father. I must work on that. Which, as I continue to read this portion of scripture is WHY I don’t have peace.

At the start of the year, I told myself that I was going to just be content ~ in ALL thing. It lasted about one day. I am brooding and moody. My sleep is disturbed. My appetite is off and my world, my sphere of influence is being affected by it.
Don’t misunderstand, I have reason to be those things and yet I know I cannot stay here, in this funk.

My head hurts. My gut is in knots. I want to pour my guts out to you here, in this forum, but I won’t. It will not help anything.
I am learning to be content whether I am abase or abound.
In all of this my hubby is my rock always, lifting me up, praying over me. I enjoy that he doesn’t pretend to understand, if he does not. I enjoy that he offers words of wisdom when he does. I am blessed in this area.

I must take this one, minute by minute. I am learning to be content. I will, in my baby steps, stumble fall, get up, take some steps, stumble fall, get up, walk a few feet, try to run, stumble, fall, get back up… you get the gist.

I have to cast my care, because most of what’s bothering me, I CAN DO NOTHING ABOUT.
James 1:4 ~ Let endurance have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

In all of this I must remember that the kids are watching me.

We Fall Down by Donnie McClurkin

Stressed, thy name is Desserts…

We’ve all seen it, “stressed is desserts backwards” or my personal favorite, “Too blessed to be stressed!”

Well the truth is, when you’re experiencing stress, no amount of cute sayings will help to lessen it.

The core of my stress is children. They are 15, 13, 11, 10, 5, and 1. At this moment the screaming is about ice that has been spilled onto the floor. Yes, it would be simpler to just pick it up, but the 11 year old has chosen to scream him into submission, which NEVER works.

The 13 and 10 year olds are, just boys, in every sense, both vying to be the alpha. Both suffer from television hypnotic coma symptomatic disease.

I am trying to live healthily, so dessert is out of the question. I consider myself a child of God, so in my head I know I’m blessed….. it’s just that certain circumstances challenge my faith on the regular.

Oh and did I say, that while my 15 year old does not cause me the usual teen issues, she is, however, challenging. She, in her own mind, knows EVERYTHING. Yes, I know, I was her age once upon a time many, many, moons ago.sigh

So, I can’t have dessert and yes, I need to get back to the Clean Eating plan. This year has been tragically tragic for my family.

Locking myself in the bathroom, watching the finger spider appear under the door, amuses me and yes, it does take the edge off.

If you know someone who seems even a little bit stressed, offer them more than a hug (and definitely more than a cute platitude). Offer to do something that will help them, pay a bill, watch a child, heck hire a sitter and take your friend for coffee or tea (not Starbucks, that in itself is another kind of stress). And know that sometimes all we really need is sleep, 7-8 hours of uninterrupted sleep!

The toddler giggles in the distance as I typed the last sentence, laugh out loud, chuckle.

Anywho, the next few weeks are stressful all on their own, so please be aware that the grumpy person may have a lot going on……. Thanks President Trump….. um… I just threw up a little….. sigh…….

RE: A post from Sept 2010 by Single Dad Laughing

¬†I didn’t read the entire post as the writer asked I must admit I skipped from page one to page three of the very long post. I am very aware that opinion pieces are just that opinion pieces.

I’m responding in this way because I wondered what was truly going on in the situation between the quote “bad dad” unquote and the son who appeared to be broken. Before I get into that, I want to recall a couple of memories I have from my mommy files:
¬†First, My son has always been high energy. He’s far better now than he’s every been, but there are still challenges. The incident I want to share happened in a thrift store, with freshly painted/polished floors ~ CONCRETE floors. So I corralled the kids, gave them the lecture (you know the one), put the smallest of them in a cart and placed the hands of the older ones on the cart and off we went. My son began to skip and bounce, which gave me visions of his head against that floor, so I spoke to him, face to face, asked for confirmation of info upload (he nodded) and off we went. Well there must have been a memory dump that I missed because he let go of the cart and began to repeat the unwanted actions. The next few minutes, I reminded, I threatened, I put him in the cart, he cried, begged, I relented and took him out. I saw the looks we were getting, so I decided to cut the trip short. So there we were, standing in line waiting to check out, My son once again lets go of the cart, and seconds later, his head hit the floor, hard! I didn’t move. I looked down, checking his face, assessing the degree of injury, I saw his face register the pain. I saw his memory kick in and I said, “See, I told you that would happen. Now do you understand?” He got up nodding and grabbed my hand. The lady behind me voiced her opinion of my parenting skills (unfavorable) and the lady behind her corrected her stating that she’d heard me telling him he’d fall for the past five minutes. Once we got home, he got an ice pack and snuggles. Did the incident change his outside behavior? Yes.
The next was in an airport with my toddler daughter who stated she needed to go to the bathroom. I sent her with her big sister to the bathroom. This occurred three times in about 15 minutes. On the fourth request from the toddler, my eldest, now very frustrated, said that she wasn’t using the bathroom, she was just going in to play in the water and flush the toilet. ¬†So the next 5, 6, 7th requests went ignored. Upon the 8th request I asked her if she truly had to go potty, she said yes. I said okay, let’s go and reached for her hand. She shook her head and asked for her sister to take her. I said nope, she’d have to go with me or not at all. She climbed into the chair and sat down, so I sat down and began to feed the baby ~ this must have been her Que because she began to jump up and down and yell, “I need to go potty!” I handed the baby to my eldest and stood up. My middle child began to scream louder and not allow me to take her hand, so I sat down (we’re in the airport) and she continued to scream that she had to go to the bathroom. I said calmly, “I will take you, but you’re going to calm down and take my hand.” She stomped her foot and told me no, she wanted to go with her sister. So I made a decision to not carry her kicking and screaming to the bathroom. I sat back and she ran toward the bathroom. My eldest caught her and as she was bringing her back, a lady who’d only been there for about 5 minutes angrily spat out, “Let the girl go to the bathroom before I go get someone about this!” My response to the lady wasn’t nice. I’m not proud. The exchange caused my daughter to sit down and get quiet.

My son has been chastised many times in public and at home. My daughter is now a mom. My son, now 11, isn’t broken. My daughter isn’t broken. While I understand what he thinks he saw 4 years ago, I wish he’d have taken the time to check what was going on. Child welfare checks are easy. People will respond in a way that will show you who they are as parents and people. Children, at their worst are genius Sociopaths only concerned about their needs and wants. So if you see a situation you’re not certain of or if you see more anger than you feel is necessary, say something. There is a point in which discipline becomes abuse, everyone’s line is in a different place. Each child is different and therefore requires different levels of everything. ABUSE IS NEVER DISCIPLINE!

Sigh … I’ve spoken to many an angry parent and for the most part felt the anger subside. Just don’t be so quick to judge without all of the facts. Do not be afraid to tell someone if you believe a child is being abused.
I saw a toddler verbally abusing his mother, she was quietly admonishing him with kind words, calling him sweetie and such. A man the boy called Grampa walked over and pinched the boy on the leg while saying something in the boy’s ear. I saw pain register on the boy’s face. I saw him nod. The older man kept talking. A lady walked past, summed up what she thought was going on and began to make loud statements, which is her right, I suppose to assess the situation. This brought the mom back to the cart. She placed herself between the boy and the older man. She looked from the lady to me and tried to smile. I said, “That’s a good Grampa.” She smiled and walked away.

Point of view is everything! “Only believe half of what you see, some or none of what you hear.”

Here is the post to which I’m responding: SDL¬†. I am reminded of my mother, who used to discipline other people’s children. She once grabbed a little boy for cursing at his mother in a McDonald’s Restaurant. No one ever stopped her or called the police. I don’t think it would work in today’s society.
I’m off my soapbox. No intent to offend. Rude and nasty comments will be deleted.

Enough all ready! Tell the truth, shame the devil…..

Recently LeVar Burton read one of my favorite bedtime stories at a charity event. The book titled: “Go the F#@K to Sleep” was written by adults for adults. I heard it read first by the great Samuel L. Jackson, I’ve posted the link here.

I was amazed to see that some parents were offended by LeVar’s narration. It was good, not as good as Sam’s. It would seem that those of us who have felt the frustration of trying to get a wee one to bed, are the only ones who appreciate the sentiment of this well written book. There are times when I wish I could just shout the title of this book into the air knowing that the shock of mommy saying the “f” word would shock them to sleep. gggggrrrrrooooaaannnn

There are lots of children in my home. Sleep often eludes them. So on those nights, I and their mothers began the go to sleep chorus, complete with, “Do you want me to come in there?” “Tu quieres un pow pow?” sigh

I think every parent has felt this frustration. So why pretend otherwise? And if you’ve never dealt with it why even comment? I believe in sharing my pain, so the next person won’t feel so abnormal.
I strongly believe that bedtimes are for parents. It is a blessed time of day. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, I just need a good night sleep as much or more than they do.

Anywho, enjoy the read for as long as it’s posted on-line…. you know how they do