Pixie's Birthday

Meg turned 6 the other day.

I celebrated it with her in the same hospital she came into the world in--- but for different reasons, I had a kidney infection.

My silly kidney did not stop us from having a party though, we had pizza, cake, and ice cream to mark the beginning of Pixie's 6th year.

I can't believe that she is 6.  Meg is joyful, impish, compassionate, welcoming, loving, goofy, smart, silly, and an amazing kid.  I am so thankful to be her mom and to have the privilege of watching her grow.

And she sure has grown!!! From a little 3 lb baby to a big girl now.....

relaxing in the NICU

Meghan just born

Home at last

6 years old-- at the same hospital she arrived in. 

Meghan loves her chickens, she cares for them and checks on them all the time.  She can calm them down and they let her pet them.  She loves her friends and enjoys playing with them and giving them things. She is clever figuring things out are a specialties.  I can't wait to see how grows up. 

Utah anniversary

The night before, Thursday, I came home from Mock Trial team and spread my work out on the floor in the formal living, no one went in there so I could set to work on the mountains of projects I had to complete. My boyfriend called.  He was older than me, my parents didn’t like that. We argued. I knew something was up.  I didn’t know what.

I was sick. I was scared. I was hiding. I was running to try and find something- someone safe.  He was angry- he knew I was not telling him things. I couldn’t tell him. I was terrified.  Everything was so terrifying. Feelings were/are scary. They can’t be reasoned with they can’t be controlled.

My brother came home from work- he was staying with us while he was separated from his wife. We sat down for ‘dinner’.  Which was tense. Always tense. Eggshells. One wrong word, glance, putting a fork down too hard and it would erupt into screaming and crying- saying awful things- just to hurt the other person- hurt them as much as I was hurting. I felt so empty so scared so alone. I felt everything and nothing at once.

Back to homework. I had a final paper to revise, AP physics to prepare for. Exams were next week.

I went to bed.

Set my alarm, made sure that my riding crop was under my pillow. I was terrified of my dad. I was scared- and my flimsy riding crop was all the protection I could muster. I passed out into a dreamless sleep.

The next bit gets a little fuzzy

I woke up. I think it was my parents at my bedroom door—with 2 strangers. I was told that I was going to Utah today—like now. At 4 am.

My mind raced- how could I stop this. How could this not happen. How could I stop it? I thought of saying I was pregnant- even though I hadn’t slept with anyone- but Illinois law said that a pregnant minor was emancipated from her parents. Then again, I wasn’t 100% sure of that and my brother was a lawyer- he would have planned for that reaction.  Also, I was so thin- there is no way anyone would believe I was pregnant. My body could barely support me not another person too.

I realized at some point- that if I left- I may not like it- but I would be away. My parents could not hurt me so much every day. I wouldn’t have to see them an know I was a giant fuck up just ruining their lives maybe this could be ok. I agreed to go. But I asked about my group presentation that I had to present tomorrow… and what about finals? It would all be worked out they said.

I had a few moments to change- supervised. Go to the bathroom- supervised. I would have killed myself then. I would have just to not be so terrified.

I got dressed. Jeans, size 0- too big. A pink camisole. A black wool cardigan with pink roses.  I could take very little: I took my violin, my stuffed bear Tasha (whom later in Utah I would hold and inhale the scent of home) and my favorite book- Pride and Prejudice.  I asked to say good bye to my dog- Fred. My brother had him out for a walk. So I said good bye to my cat- Miss Meow. My parents asked to say goodbye to me, I told them to fuck off.

It was very cold. There was three feet of snow on the ground. We took off for O’hare- me and two escorts. Later I learned how good I had it.  Other girls were drugged and taken. Others were handcuffed and taken. I went on my own.

On the airplane the escorts were nice to me- this was their profession. Taking girls to treatment so they may—just may survive whatever demons live in them.  They gave me a letter my mom wrote to me. At first I was too mad.  Too angry to read it- but as we passed over the Midwest curiosity got me. I read it. And lost what little composure I had. Everything everything came spilling out overflowing in a mess of tears. I was angry and so very hurt—and scared… but being hurt and scared but you on the defense- and that was an untenable position for me- anger was safer. But there comes a time when anger can’t hold everything back. My time for that was somewhere over Nebraska.  I still have the letter.

They offered breakfast. A Danish. Orange Juice. Fat. Calories. Hell no.

When we landed I was handed off to Danielle and Matt. At first Danielle intimidated me- but later I grew to love her- she was the only one who could help me with my calculus. 

What do you do, 4 days after your 17th birthday when you are sent across the country- with no notice- to a treatment center so maybe, maybe I could survive this and come out the other side?

What do you do when for as long as you can remember you have been not good enough- convinced your parents hated you- then get sent away? Seems to confirm everything I had thought.

I felt more alone then than I had ever felt. But a sense of odd relief. I wouldn’t have to see my parents and know I was letting them down.  Hear the frustrated sighs, the disappointment.

The indignity got worse over the next few days and weeks—and I told myself that worst case scenario I would be there for 361 days- at which point I would become legally an adult.  Seriously, it got bad.

One of the worst parts was it confirmed my worst fears. That I was not good enough to be part of our family- so they simply got rid of me- remember 17 year olds – especially 17 year olds who are starving aren’t the best at critical thought.

Going to Utah sucked. It was awful. But it saved my life. I still have my old therapist’s (Alan) email and phone number in my phone- and yes- when things are really shitty- I call him and 16 years later? He still answers me. The man is a saint.

Now- I still don’t let people get close to me. I don’t do feelings well.  I prefer things that can me reasoned with and logiced  (new word, just made it up) out.  Feelings are too messy. Too much.

So today, I am a hot crying sobbing mess- and tomorrow it will be worse.

I am still friends with a lot of the girls who I got to know there- we had very different lives- but they were the first to help put me back together when I fell apart. 

 Now, so many years later- I lose it around my  'anniversary' both going and coming.  I try and keep terribly busy- to keep the tears away, to try and hold it together.  Inevitably, I fall to pieces a few time. A sobbing snotty mess. I can still smell the same smells feel the same feelings. Its like it is happening all over again.

I want to throw things, cry, have someone hold me and tell me its over, never will happen again-- and maybe pry my shoulders out of my ears- someone to be there to help stem the anxiety and fear.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven

Last week was a really sad week.

A teacher at Pixie's pre-school died suddenly, which is devastating for little ones.

We also lost a dear family member- Scotty- a super sweet horse who was loved by all who knew him.

Scotty was not our horse- but we loved him like he was. When ever we would visit the barn his head would pop over the stall and he would great everyone with a kind nicker.  He was very sick, but he was always a little carrot hog.  The Wednesday before he died we were in the arena and he followed me around insisting on carrots.

Scotty was especially loved by LittleDude. Since Scotty was sick- he couldn't be ridden, LittleDude was light enough that he could sit on Scotty's back.  He would lean over and pat Scotty saying, "My Scotty."  The horse had more people who loved him than a lot of people. He was always kind and always gentle- he let the little ones lead him and he was patient when they brushed him.

His mom and owner sure had a special boy and watching them interact was a gift.  It was clear their bond was deep.  He  would have followed her to the ends of the Earth and she would have given him the moon.

When it was clear that there was nothing that could be done to 'fix' him- she dedicated herself to giving him the best life she could-- and that horse had it good!

Last week, when he was in too much pain, his time had come- and she gave him the last thing she could: and end to pain.  As we waited in the stall for the vet- we covered Scotty with blankets- so he would be warm, and while we sat with him- he smelled the carrots in my pocket and insisted on having them. His last hour was spent surrounded by his family, warm, safe, loved and snacking on his favorite treats.

The barn seemed empty after that.  I miss his gentle eyes and welcoming nicker.  Jessie, his wife- took it well.  Animals are smarter than we give them credit for.

Yeehaa. Bike Rides. Summer.

Summer has started!

For the past 4 years summer has not been the high point that they should be, they have been in and out of the hospital and generally pretty sucky.

This summer its all different.  I bought a bike trailer and put it together myself then took all of the kids on a bike ride.  Only LittleDude rode in the trailer because Pixie can ride two wheeler now!

We have spent countless hours at the barn playing with the horses.  Princess has had lots of time in the saddle and all of the kids have made friends with the horses.  LittleDude loves Jessie with the innocent that is totally captivating.  We have had great times with our family (blood and friends who are may as well be family).

So far we have had a great summer- I am so excited to start the summer.

Family can come from the heart

I have a great family.

One of the biggest lessons that I have learned in the past 4 years is that family rarely is limited to genetics.

Family means people who love and support each other- that can mean watching kids, helping around the house, laughing, hand holding whatever.

My family (biological and not) is amazing.  They have carried me, watched my kids, made dinner, cleaned my house, cheered me up, urged me on, and kept me going for the last 4 years I can never repay them.

The thing is I don't have to repay them.  I will be there for them when the need it and I will teach my kids that it is a privilege to be in a position to help someone else.  It is an honor and a privilege to help someone when they need it.  Our job is to serve and help others.

My family includes friends, neighbors, biological family, and even pets (really animals are some of the best therapists in the world)- the more the merrier.

I am truly thankful for each of them being in my life.

Why saying you don't see color is BS.

Unless you are a dog or color blind... in which case- you're excused.

I have a lot of friends who are legitimately socially liberal people.  Good on them right?


One thing that they say with relative frequency is, "I don't see color-- I see the person."  I call bull crap.

It is insulting to everyone involved.  First- I felt guilty because- I'll admit- I do see color- and I don't judge them for it (duh) but I have to acknowledge that a person of color is going to have different day to day experiences than I do. To insinuate otherwise is insulting.

A person of color should be proud of their melanin. It does not define them, nor make them who they are-- but it is a part of their lives and influences them. It connects them to a deep rich history.

By saying "I don't see color" a person is insinuating that  they do not see the differences in life experiences that white people don't deal with- a friend of mine recently related a story of a traffic stop that was so insulting and so unbelievable (yet clearly true) I have no idea what to say!

To point.  I was pulled over recently.  I did not have a non expired insurance card on me- we have insurance, but the card was missing  The police office said not to worry about it- that he was sure I had insurance and let me know kindly my tail light was out. I bet this would not have happened this way for my friend.

So say that 'I don't see color' is saying that I don't see something that impacts so many aspects of a persons life, and that is insulting.

This is awkward..

Ever since the DCFS kerfuffle this summer, its been really weird in our neighborhood.

Our neighbors who we used to be friends with have not spoken to us since the drama- well the woman at least.  The man and I have spoken cordially a few times but nothing more.  I have tried to speak to the woman and be nice to her but she brushes me off- politely.

Here's the problem.  The other day- my kids were out in the snow playing and we had a gaggle of kids over playing with my kids.  Neighbor kid came out and my kids started to play with her.  My husband- still salty over the incident told our kids that they could not go in neighbor kids yard-- but she was welcome to come over to our yard. The kid just sat in her yard and played alone. It was beyond awkward.

I am dreading summer.  We used to play outside and there was no weirdness- now I am really concerned about the potential weirdness.

Go back to the pole- back to the basics

I had a really bad experience at pole a while ago- it drastically turned me off.  It was not an injury or anything, I just was taken by surprise and my feelings really hurt.  It hurt me so deeply for a while I stopped going to pole for a few weeks.  I felt like the joy had been ripped away from me.

This is not nearly as flat as I want it to be-- but I need to get back into shape.

Thankfully- a great gym offered me a job teaching classes there and allowed me to come and practice there.

I got back on the pole and at first was really grumpy.  I had been away for a bit, had a major surgery, and then a minor surgery.   I hadn't fully come back from the first surgery and with all the time away I was not as strong as usual and certain tricks (some of my favorites) were not working for me.  That is maddening. Absolutely maddening.

But a great person, a great woman, a great poler- talked to me and in the end I had a great time again.  My tricks aren't back yet but soon.  

Share the love

I have recently had to opportunity through some truly amazing women to share my love of pole with others and hopefully help them to love it as much as I do.

Pole has helped me through some of the worst times in my life and I am honored to share it with others.  I truly do not know if I would have made it through intact with out my pole family.

I seriously want to jump up and down with giddiness and joy. 

What do I want pole students to get out of it?

Everyone is different, and that is awesome.  Each of us moves our bodies differently and it is amazing, this is where the artistry of dance comes in.  We could all be given four tricks to do and the same music to do them too and yet all look totally different.

Pole is a sport- but it is also an art. If you aren't into the acrobatic tricks-- that's fine there are endless things you can do.  Walking can be amazing to watch- its all about artistry. 

You may not get every trick.  This is fine!! A lot of us have tricks we don't do for a lot of reasons. It doesn't make you less than anyone- it makes you--- you.

Love yourself and your body. Your body is part of you--- it is not *you*.  Your body doesn't define you.  I never got this until I was really involved with this physical sport-- ironic huh?

Be kind. Not everyone responds to tough love. I don't. I will get defensive and put up walls to keep people out. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

Sometimes the truth is hard to face

I used to pride myself on not being racist.  Then one day I had to face a really uncomfortable truth.  I am racist.  I am not color blind. My experiences as a white girl from the Chicago suburbs have impacted my worldview- I certainly do not believe that black (African American people are (insert negative adjective here).  I think we are all people- but I have to admit- even though it pains me to do so- that I have certain privileges that others do not.

One day, someone I don’t know questioned if one of the women I look up to most in the world for her intelligence, her pride, her willingness to discuss any topic honestly was called racist. 

Admittedly, I know absolute crap about the day to day experiences of black Americans- and I was (and am) concerned that I would stick my foot in my mouth again, or that my words as a white woman would not carry weight. Still I said something.

I said (typed) that my friend is not racist.  She is proud of her heritage (as she should be) angry that white do-gooders so often co-opt her very real day to day experiences in a self-serving manner, “Look at all of the good we are doing for these poor black folks” and it is crap. Complete and total bullshit. 

Honestly, I know exceptionally little about African cultures or day to day experiences of an average black person.  What I do know is that they are justified in their anger.  I know they do not need my help- they are quite capable.

What little I do know about African culture is amazing and beautiful.  Their cultures (the very few that I have learned about) have innate power, beauty, and incredible authenticity.   The last thing they need is my help.  White people have scripted Africa as a whole and people of color as marginalized people who require the saving of white people.  That is NOT true.  They do not need saving- they need to stop having this stupid script played over and over!

What I can do is to work in my community to help heal the wounds that we caused and continue to cause.  I can share within my community my respect for the black experiences, and help my community to realize that we really messed up- then hopefully work to earn the black community’s trust back.

I can never ‘get’ it though, saying otherwise is the worst kind of dishonest.

Let me be clear I do not hate black people (African American), Hispanic people, or anyone.

Pole Patience

Pole is a challenging activity at times.  It is intensely frustrating at times, but so so rewarding.

I have been frustrated when I am having a rough day when I can't stick to the pole.

The other day was one of those days.  Of course it had to be with others in the room, I couldn't just deal with my frustration privately.

Instead I had to deal with it in front of others- it was embarrassing.  I hate to admit it but it was.  I used it as a lesson.

In the end I was to slippy because of my mistake- I had a pedicure before I went poling and the lotion on my legs made sticking impossible.  This is a rookie mistake, one I had never made before.  I'm sure that nearly everyone makes this mistake at least once, it was just my turn.

Oh well, there is always another day. 

DCFS: Unfounded

We received our letter today from DCFS. It states that the allegation of child neglect is unfounded.

I have been vocal about this on Facebook because of the absurdity of it all.  The individual who called it in admitted it-- we knew who it was, it was just the admission that was like an extra sucker punch.

What she said to me via text was such remarkable crap that I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry or scream.

Apparently, earlier in the year, when she called 911 when I got sick- my house was a mess.  I'll admit it.  Have you ever tried recovering from surgery and complications and 5 kids- add on 2 dogs and keeping the house? Yes my house was a mess. It was not dangerous though. There were no (and are no bugs) there were no rodents (and are no rodents). There is clutter.

She said that another neighbor was concerned over the care our kids had been receiving.  There was an instance 2 years ago when Pixie got out of the house when I was going to the bathroom- we changed the door latch so she couldn't open it- that same summer 2 years ago husband was in the garage getting something and Pixie toddled off into the road, he caught hell for it and felt awful.

Ok. Fine. So then talk to us. Offer to help. Express concern. If I know a friend or a neighbor is having a hard time I offer to help.  Not judge not gossip. Bad things come of that.  If all of this gossip is happening discuss it with the people being gossiped about- really assuming makes an ass out of everyone.  In fact she had done just the opposite.  She was very stern with my husband about not wanting to help us with childcare anymore- how does that express concern for the children's welfare?

She said it was a shame that I was angry and not willing to talk with her about this- a shame for the kids. Yep. It is a shame. A real shame that she, and adult, would take the words of a 5 year old with apraxia of speech, interpreted to her via a 6 year old child, spoken through a window with out double checking the facts. She showed incredibly poor judgement.

No, I will not forgive her yet. Someday but right now? I am not ready to.  What she did to my children, what she put them through, what she put me through- at the moment makes me so angry I want to scream. My oldest, Princess, was up most of the night worrying over this and is finally now able to sleep again.  

Pole Dancing

Did you think I would stay away? NEVER.

My wrist still hurts a bit, and I have had to learn to not put too much stress on it, I also have had to adjust the tricks I can do to respect my wrists limitations- it is frustrating because I am used to being able to will my body to do what I want it to do.  I could always work hard enough and push hard enough I would be able to get my body, or brain, or whatever to bend to my will.

(me stubborn?? NEVER)

But now I have learned and am continuing to learn I need to respect my wrist's boundaries.  Its a process.  I have to regain my strength and flexibility.

I have gotten my Ayesha, pencil, brass monkey, pole sit back.  I and working on my cartwheel balance- I just need time to work on it- stopping when upside down is a challenge and supporting your body on your arms- away from your body.

Last night after a lot of practice I got my Dove back.  Next up- Superman fall.  

I have had a lot of questions about why I keep coming back-- or how.

Here's the thing.  Pole dancing is mine. My time. My thing. I love it.  I am proud of my body.  Even if I never lose another pound or always have some jiggle. My body is pretty amazing.  It has come through hell. Sickness. Injury. Childbirth. And yet. Is pretty great.  That feeling.  That feeling of accomplishment is why I come back.

Feeling connected to myself.  Feeling proud of myself.  Feeling happy. That is why I come back.
I would love to be able to share my absolute passion with other women.  This is one reason I am so proud to be an Ambassador for Tease. 

Netflix Dropped Dora and Diego--- OMG

"My life is over!!" 

Pixie's favorite shows are Dora the Explorer and Go! Diego, Go!  She would watch them on the iPad via Netflix every day.  She learned so much about different animals and she loved seeing the live ones at the zoo and telling me about what she learned. 

One day- we were settling in for the night and she started looking for Dora or Diego on Netflix to watch an episode- they were gone.  With growing anxiety and fear I searched Netflix for the shows. They disappeared into thin air.

I don't think Map can help us with this problem.  After some investigating I found out that Netflix did not renew their contract with Dora and Diego's company.

Fab.

It was like her best friend left, and to a certain extent that is exactly what happened- Dora and Diego were her friends. 

The meltdown that followed could rival any tragedy.  There were tears, enough tears to fill an ocean... from both of us. There was sadness and mourning.

There was yelling:  "HOW DARE THEY TAKE MY SHOW AWAY!!!!"

Really-- were they not thinking about kids and how they love Dora and Diego? Were they not thinking of the parents?  What, exactly were they thinking about?

Pixie's heartbreak was palpable and real.

Thank goodness for Amazon Prime-- they still offer Diego and Dora for instant streaming.  And I will be buying a ton of Dora and Diego DVDs at resales so even if Amazon drops them we will still be prepared- just like Dora's Backpack and Diego's Rescue Pack.

Leave my kids alone, thanks!

I took my kids to the zoo today with some friends- while there we stopped at a playground and some lady was hanging around Pixie watching to make sure she did not fall.

I tend towards the more attachment parenting, natural consequences, free range parenting.

Pixie- is a very competent kid.  She can climb almost anything.  I call her my mountain goat. She is confident in her abilities and is surprisingly skilled! But she would not have gotten that way had I hovered over her.

Pixie was, quite capably, climbing up a climbing wall to a play structure.  Sure, they have fallen, skinned knees, bruises and a little banged up.  She has however learned her limits.  She has learned she is capable.  

I was watching- from the side though, if she needed me, I would be there. 

Pixie can do all of these things because no one has told her she 'can't'  You'd be amazed what kids can do when you let them.

Natural consequences allows her to learn a cause and effect relationship of her choices and it gives her a sense of efficacy in her world.

This woman though was just shadowing her.  I understand it was coming from a place of concern.  Is there a polite way to say something?

first crushes

Princess has a crush.  I am fortunate enough that she has let me in on this little secret.  I will respect her privacy and not tell who it is on.

I cannot believe that this is where she is at already.  That she has gone from diapers to first crushes.  It makes my stomach get all fluttery.

My first thought was, "Oh Sh*t!!!! Already??" then a while later (like hours) after I had been stewing over my sweet innocent child- I realized that I was 8 when I had my first crush too.

I would have died rather than tell my parents- so I hope her telling me-- willingly is a sign of an open, trusting, and honest relationship with her.

This is unnerving territory for me.  I am not sure how to navigate these waters.  What I do know, is that I love her, I respect her, I will not shame or humiliate her.  She is a smart, brave, courageous, authentic, amazing girl. 

Pixie's Guys

Pixie is silly and funny and a ball of laughs.  She has opinions. She knows what she wants.

Last night it was raining, snowing, icing-- you know a normal Chicago area winter night-- and I had to go to CVS.  As driving in that type of weather is hell, I decided to walk.  So some kids decided to come with me.

Princess her friend- we we love like another child- and Pixie.

We got started and Pixie was sad that she couldn't run like the bigger girls.  She stopped and in tears cried, "wait guys!!!" then looked up at me and said "My guys!!! My Guys!" I called ahead told the girls that Pixie wanted to keep up with them and being the great kids they are came back and let her keep up with them (have I mentioned that they are pretty cool kids?)

Pixie calls her friends her "guys"- the phrasing that kids use is so much fun.

pinata malfunction

Pinatas have been around for a while... we'll say what 500 years?? (yes I Googled it).

Despite this LONG history- they do not seem to work right- ever.

I, in a rare moment of forethought, decided to get the kind of pinata that the kids pull strings from the bottom and in theory- one of the strings releases the contents of the pinata all over the floor.

It did not seem like a good idea to have a bunch of kids swinging a stick in the house with a lot of people over.  It seemed to be inviting catastrophe.

Well- it didn't work.  One little girl decided that she would cut out the middle man and pull a handful of strings, she is all about efficiency. NOTHING happened.  We adults waited on baited breath for the final ribbons to be pulled, expecting at any moment a payload of treats to come crashing down.  We were disappointed- the last ribbon was pulled and nothing happened.

So I had to tear open the pinata and shake the contents on the crowd of children who, were not that much shorter than I am-- in fact one of them... a 12 year old is taller than am.

There are a couple of problems with the candy pouring into a heap of kids- somehow at least one child gets hurt by the candy falling on him or her-- and--- the smallest kid can sometimes stampeded by excited older kids. 

Response to Mom Stays in the Picture

I'll admit- I am a camera dodger.  More often I am the picture taker.

There are very few pictures of me and there are a couple of reasons for this- most of which are a direct reflection of my own insecurities.


My appearance is a long standing issue.  I have never been happy with it.  My face is too fat, my arms too big, thighs, hips, blah blah...I am working on this and it has gotten better (I still dislike my exceedingly round head though)

I never feel right asking people to take pictures of my children/friends and I.  Like it is selfish or self important to ask someone to do that- why would anyone want a photo of me?

No one really offers to take pictures of the kids and I so there is that as well- and we have even fewer of us as a family.   This makes me sad.  There are not family pictures from holidays-- or even just a fun Saturday.  There are not photos of family traditions.

Growing up, pictures were kind of different, I mean- we had to use film! But other than that, we just didn't have family pictures taken.  I wish we had them.  My mom is beautiful.  I love showing her off.  Even as she ages she has this class and shine about her. I just love that.

Does anyone else feel really weird about asking others to take pictures-- or do people just offer and I am not 'picture material?'

 

Return to the pole

I am back- kind of.

Today was my first day back after being off for 7 months to have a baby/have wrist surgery.

It was rough. Rougher than I expected. Really really rough.

I am having a hard time with that. I am not used to really struggling with tricks. Climbing was hard. My extra padding was getting in the way, I couldn't remember where to put my feet or my hands... then once I got going it was like I was just beginning again, my foot was sore, to top it all off- once I got up getting down was a pain too!

Shoulder Mounts just were not happening. A trick I loved and was really good at- I couldn't do.

My basic invert is sloppy.

Peter Pan combos: I kept hitting the floor with my outside foot.

Butterfly/extended butterfly- not so great.

and the worst... the most devastating to me was the fact I could not get my top foot on the pole for pole splits.

- I know I had a baby 3 weeks ago, my body has to go back to normal- but it is really hard to accept that right now- and I am resisting pushing to hard-

For a little bit I considered leaving class because it was such a struggle for me and I was getting really frustrated. For a little while I considered quitting all together- because my negative self talk was getting in the way- that I would never be able to do those tricks again, blah blah blah....

It was not the same as my previous class. My previous group had been together for a year. We knew each other. We knew about kids, spouses, troubles, jobs... we cared about each other. We were raunchy and dirty and funny. Our dynamic was incredible. This group is really nice- but I don't know them. I am not comfortable with them. I hope that grows.

Then I remembered a few things. How absolutely fun it is when you get a new trick. How I felt at the beginning of during meditation before Melissa decided to kill my arms.

So what now? I may exercise some at home in my spare time (I mean there is SOOOO much of it!) I am going to focus on the fact that I learned this tricks before, I can do it again. I am going to commit to being thankful that I have an incredible place I can go and laugh hysterically, and not have my identity as someone's mother- someone's wife. (I am totally stuck in that right now- I need to carve out my own identity again) I'll get there. But I'll be back at Tease next week. I see if I can work in some open pole classes to get myself back moving again.