Learning how to parent

I have the privilege of helping many friends and strangers learn "how to parent" except this is not accurate.  I don't teach them anything--I show them what they already know. Because we do know- even if we don't know we know.

Part of this includes the privilege of being with friends as they labor and birth their babies- I also have had the pleasure of helping new moms learn how to breastfeed (it may be natural but it isn't always easy!!)

And the other day someone asked me where I learned how to parent. Interesting question. Honestly? I am doing what feels right and hoping for the best.  As luck would have it there is a fairly large body of evidence that supports attachment parenting as an emotionally healthy parenting option.  But where did this come from?

My mom.

When I had my first I was 22 and so immature having a goldfish would have been too much responsibility.

My daughter was a preemie-- and my mom helped me gain the confidence to hold her, to change her, to feed her and to parent her.  I was terrified of breaking her- so when she came home from the NICU at a whooping 3 lbs- my mom came down to stay with me and helped me figure out what I was doing. She taught me how to bath her, and supported breastfeeding even though she never breastfeed me.  She found resources to help me.

The biggest thing she did was help me gain the confidence to parent Princess and trust myself to know what feels right.  We have instincts for a reason- fighting them is counter productive.

So now I get to share what she guided me to learn.  You can do it.  You are enough.  Your baby needs you.  

StripCraft and Booty Work

A while ago I was fortunate enough to take a workshop with the incomparable Lux ATL one of the most amazing women I have ever had the privilege to meet.

I love pole.  It is my sanctuary, it functions as a work-out, social time, therapy, and so much more for me.  However, I am not much of a dancer, I struggle with flow.  I struggle with confidence, I struggle...

This workshop was heaven.  It was home.

First: Lux is crazy smart.  Which is so cool-- but not unusual in the pole world- the number of women who are unbelievably smart is staggering. What makes Lux unique is that she is so approachable she accepts and values her students as women where ever we are.  She also speaks her mind- this is hard. As a women if you speak your mind too loudly you're a bitch or worse... Lux embraces this and encourages women to embrace this.. I have an awesome shirt from her that reads "pro bitch"

When I dance I get self conscious and convince myself that everyone is so much better than I am- so much sexier-- essentially just that I stink.

Which leads me to....

Second:  It was like she was talking to me when she was laying out the class. Which leads me to believe my fears and anxieties are not unusual.

The first tenet of her class is:

Only you possess what only you possess

Simple, huh? Well yes, this makes sense, but how do I know what I possess that only I possess?  That is the journey.  That we all have to learn and to learn it we have to play with a lot of things and inevitably make mistakes.  As we are learning and on our jouney, remember that everyone else is on their own journey and we may all be making mistakes as we learn and grow.

The second is: 

Be vulnerable. Be willing to act weird in public

I certainly and self conscious and am afraid to act silly in public for fear of "what will people think?"
By staying in my comfort zone I am limiting myself and not growing.  Growth happens outside an individual's comfort zone. Make an impression. Be weird. Have fun. Embrace it. 

The third and final tenet is:

No shame. No fear. No apologies. Just Love. 

This one have a hard time with. I struggle with shame. I struggle with being fearful. I apologize way too much. I can extent love and acceptance to everyone but myself.  Recently, Amy Schumer did a skit on women and apologizing and how we as women apologize for everything.  

So I am working on it. 

I also plan on taking her classes again to really have the chance to better absorb her wisdom and learn from her incredible booty isolation ways.


Day to day- I am carrying her lessons with me, and not just practicing booty isolations in traffic- but embracing myself for who I am and loving it. All of it.

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.

The child has way to many animals.

LittleDude, from birth has been part of a big family. He is the youngest of 5 siblings and is loved by so many people.  He has about 70 aunts and uncles and 10 sets of grandparents (family, to us is not limited to blood relatives).

He also has several four legged guardians.

From the moment he came into the house, Aurora (White Fang) claimed him as her baby.  She would not let Charlie, the other dog near him.  She also did not like 'unapproved' people picking him up. If someone made him cry-- look out buttercup.  If he got upset- she would get someone to make him stop crying. She slept under his swing.

Even now, she is his mama dog.  She lets him climb on her, lay on her, play with her, and she is unfailingly affectionate.

Because a dog is not enough protection, there is also a horse, a 1200lb animal that adores him.  Jessie took to him right away. She is patient and kind with him she plays with, she is patient when he brushes her. When he fell in the stable she would not move on until he had come up to her and allowed her to sniff him over. Another horse accidentally scared him, and LittleDude cried. Jessie was not impressed. She promptly told the other horse to back off, he is her baby.


When I am riding her, she can be a handful.  When LittleDude is on her- she is steady as can be.


I have never seen a horse and kid bond like this.  LittleDude, being 2, has his own language- but one of his favorite words is "Yeeha" which means horse. He loves to go see them. He loves to take care of them- to feed them to help clean their stalls.  It is something we all share.


So heaven help you if you hurt Henry and his horse or dog are around-- because watch out.

On Suicide and Mental Illness

If I remember correctly I have addressed mental illness briefly in this blog after a tragedy.  I had hoped, in vain, that maybe, possible there would be a real discussion about the mental health issues in society.  Obviously, this is not the case.

People are still stigmatized by their mental illness.  People are still isolated.  Even the people who have access to the best medicine has to offer, are over powered by these diseases.  These diseases (and that is what they are: diseases- just the same as diabetes, asthma, cancer- and just as deadly) are powerful.

It is not cowardly to commit suicide (it is an act of desperation) it cowardly to call a sick person names and judge them.  The illnesses are powerful and scary, they can take over and rip lives apart.  The illness is in control not the individual.

A person with depression or mental illness has as much choice in the matter as someone with any chronic illness. Would you tell someone with kidney failure to just think positively, or to make their kidneys work?  No (and I certainly hope not). Then don't do it to someone with a mental illness.

Robin Williams was a genius, a gifted man.  Sadly, he was also a tortured soul as so many geniuses are.  His dramatic roles in (Dead Poets Society and Good Will Hunting are two of my favorites) changed lives.  His comedy was brilliant. He brought joy to so many people. He was able to reach into peoples hearts and touch them. The world has lost a great man.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

                         But O heart! heart! heart!

                            O the bleeding drops of red,

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

                         Here Captain! dear father!

                            This arm beneath your head!

                               It is some dream that on the deck,

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                            But I with mournful tread,

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

 Walt Whitman


Patch Adams and his character's suicidal feelings seem all that much more poignant now

Please stop saying "I Can't"

I am not a closet pole dancer.  I am very open about it.  When I tell some one new what I do, quite often he or she will say, "I can't (or couldn't) do that" to be followed up with one of the following: I am not sexy, I am not coordinated, I am not strong enough, I am not flexible, I am not that kind of person, I am not etc....

Here's the deal: ANYONE can pole dance.  It doesn't have to be sexy.  You don't have to be strong (that is why you pole dance- to get stronger).  You don't have to be flexible (if you choose to work on it- this will change). You don't have to have incredible confidence, pole dancing can help with that (I swear).

Pole dancing can be whatever you want it to be sexy or athletic, full of tricks or not.  Its about YOU. No one else.  When I have done a routine with my classes- even though we are doing the same tricks in the same order to the same music each woman looks totally unique. That is awesome. No one else can dance like you- because no one else is you.

Stop saying "I can't".  You can.  If you don't want to or tried it and didn't like it-- that's fine.  But you can pole dance- everyone can.

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.  

Since when is self esteem a bad thing?

You know what is bizarre?  When I  start to feel good about myself, I end up feeling guilty for feeling good about myself?  What kind of crazy is that? 

Many many years ago, I was in Junior Girl Scouts and there was a self esteem badge.  I remember doing part of it and feeling terrible that I was working on liking myself.  I tried to talk about it with some adults and I was told that working on self esteem was a pretty self centered thing to do.  Then I was told that I already had a too high of an opinion of myself.

A few years later I developed an eating disorder- shocker (not really surprising in the least).

Seriously, I have lived my life feeling guilty when complemented, unable to have positive self talk, and being afraid to try new things because I may not get them quickly enough.

I grew up thinking I was a major screw up and incapable of doing anything right; that I would never be as good as my siblings, my friends, my neighbors.  My self image was a stinking pile of crap.

This is still something I have a hard time with. More pressing- I see my oldest starting o have the same patterns and I do not ever want her or any of my kids to feel like that. Ever.

So I am trying to change this. I have a long way to go.

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.

Pole dancing competitions

Pole dancing is no longer a "Gentleman's" Club attraction.  It is now a fitness activity.  One that I adore.

As pole dancing has grown more popular, competitions have become more common.  Women I started poling with are entering (and winning!) competitions.  Women I dance with and train with are champions. That is super awesome.

I do not compete.  I will not compete. Let me say, I do not hold it against anyone if they choose to compete or perform or whatever. Let me tell you why I choose not to compete.

Personally, I can't let myself compete or I will end up doing it all wrong.  I will end up getting really upset if I don't win and it will suck the fun right out of it.  Pole is about fun- to lose that would be so sad.

I do not want to do that to myself.  I will also measure myself against other dancers; from skills to appearance.  I will critique my feet, my thighs, my belly, everything.  I don't want to do that, so I don't put myself in a position when that is likely to happen.

Another reason I don't compete or perform is; I don't want people looking at me like that.  Pole has a really sexual side to it. That is fine.  I just don't want myself to get caught up in it.  I don't want to be looked at like that.  If other people are cool with it-- go for it. Its just not for me.

Pole is for me. Its my time. I have no desire to let someone else or a competition get into my head and take that time from me.  It is the time when I can focus on being me, not a wife, mother, etc.  It is time for me to get out of my head and turn my brain off.

Pole Dance Free Style Memory Loss

The basic format of our pole classes is: meditation, workout, trick time, dance time.  Sometimes there is a moving meditation in there too but that depends.

I get all happy for dance time and then it comes an I'll start dancing and my mind will blank out. Fairy climb I get to the top of the pole and well then what? What can I do from there?  Sitting here at the table thinking about it I can list off somethings but in the moment I blank- test anxiety pole dance style.

First, getting up high kind a freaks me out.  I am short- and mildly klutzy (okay-- moderately)- staying close to the ground is to my benefit- I have a shorter distance to fall.

I can do some pretty fun tricks and I am really proud of them, however, incorporating them into a dance and staying fluid escapes me.  Figuring out what to do escapes me.

Sometimes I wish I could have someone just calling out trick names and I could incorporate them because sometimes I can only remember like two things to do.

Now That's a Pole Class

After last weeks not so great class, a toe injury, sick kids, and just general exhaustion, I was apprehensive about class.

I actually considered not going.  I was not feeling 100%- I felt tired and kind of like I was coming down with something.

Honestly, I had been having a really hard time being patient with everyone lately and I figured getting out would allow me to refocus myself even if I did not have a great class, as it turned out I had a great, amazing, awesome class.

It would have been a HUGE mistake to stay home.

I had an amazing class.

From the beginning of class I was able to get into it.  Yes my toe hurt. I was more slippery than EVER before.  I was weaker than normal.  Something about it was just right.

We were going to review a few tricks that I wanted get better at, one of them involved sitting on your non-dominant hand.  See after my wrist injury, doing things that put a great deal of stress on my wrist are often quite painful.  Instead of just gritting my teeth and doing the trick, I opted to hop out of it, and try it with my other wrist down.  My right wrist was strong enough and I was able to do it, just fine. 

The other big thing that happened in class is- I took my glasses off to dance.  I never take my glasses off-- really only to sleep and shower am I without them.  I need to be able to see.  I need to have an escape route.  Much like I need to have windows that I can see out of all the time- I need to have the ability to get out of somewhere fast. 

I took my glasses off and had a great dance. 

Self-Care is not selfish

(photo credit lulumon athleta)
Moms and women as a whole are typically very quick to jump to help others but not so fast to take time for themselves.

There is a prevailing belief that taking care of ones-self is selfish and not to be done.

Well that is a pile of crap. Especially when women then whine and complain about burnout. I get it though. This has been me, so so many times.

I have had to learn, painfully, and slowly, that self care is not selfish. Self care is necessary. If I do not take the time to care for myself everyone suffers.

When I get burned out I get crabby and snappy and generally just mean.

Until recently my time was pole dancing. As that is not possible now, I had to go through a meltdown to again realize that I needed to take a time to invest in myself.

So for the past three weeks I have been 'investing' in my personal needs by participating in The Daily Method Classes.

Yes, I have to take time away from my kids. I even leave the kids in the care of a non-family member (gasp) but I need to (this is one of the best things about The Daily Method- the childcare room onsite). I am refreshed. Stress is released from my muscles via the work out. I get to see other adults! I get to talk in sentences! Yay!

Personally, I know so many women who fall into this trap- the women/mother/martyr. If a class is unattainable ask someone for a babysitting swap, I would be all over that, and I often am!

As women though, we have got to stop it. We have got to stop putting everyone before ourselves. We have got to start investing in ourselves. We have got to care about ourselves and take care of ourselves, if for no other reason, than we will then be able to care for others better.