If Everyone Was Blind

Lately I can't help but wonder what our world would have been like if we were all born blind. When I first started my masters program in counseling, one of the concepts we learned about that resonated with me was how damaging labeling can be. Saying, she's "depressed" or "anorexic" can lead to the person suffering from such conditions to feel defined as such. And only as such. Once a person is defined as one thing or another it's much more difficult to reframe that thought and become who you truly are. Believe me, I know.

Like most things I learned about human behavior, counseling and sociological "stuff" during my years of undergrad and graduate studies, I was able to take this idea and view it in the grand scheme of life, not just counseling. It's part of why I loved being in school. Concepts like this helped me to make sense of the world around me a little bit more. While I was always cautious of placing labels on others anyway, and I remain aware of such things, this isn't an idea I've deeply contemplated in some time.

The other day I was standing in the shower attempting to let the warmth of the water falling on my shoulders wash my worries and stress away when I found myself doing what I usually end up doing with my sole 15 minutes of solitude... contemplating humanity and what the heck is wrong with the world! I came to realize that so many of our problems come from judgments of each other. Labels. I also thought how most of those labels come from our very first impression of another and that first impression is mostly dictated by simply looking at the person. What I ended up thinking was... I wonder what the world would be like if we were all born blind.

If we couldn't see the color of someone's skin... if we couldn't see the cross hanging around their neck... if we couldn't see the hijab or kippah covering their head, the tattoos down their arms... If we couldn't see the kind of car they drive or the size of their house or the clothes they wore... if we couldn't see how short or tall they were, fat or thin, or the size of a woman's breasts...

What if the only first impression we had could be based on how kindly a person greeted us, or unkindly? What if we only had the ability to "judge" another based on their words and actions alone? I wonder what would the world look like then. Would we be more willing to give those who give off a poor first impression a second chance? Would we find ourselves shying away from the man walking down the street who wears his pants a bit "too low" and whose skin is a bit "too dark"? Or would we simply sense a human being walking towards us and politely smile and warmly say "hello"? Would we start whispering about a man boarding the plane with payot (sidecurls worn by various groups of Orthodox Jews) and think that's weird so we shouldn't not talk to him? Would we point and gawk at the family going down the road in a horse and buggy in the 21st century?

People who are different than us tend to make us uneasy. We judge and we question them; maybe even questioning their sanity or our safety being around them. We back away rather than offer a warm handshake. Or at least a smile or nod of the head acknowledging the other person's existence. I mean, the least we can do is acknowledge a person's existence, right?! Yet we don't. Far too many of us simply don't. Instead, we form a judgment or place a label on the person. And many of those judgments lead to dislike and worse yet, hate. Hate for no real reason other than the fact the person is different than us.

As a Jew I've been more keenly aware of these judgments over the past years as anti-Semitism has been rapidly growing again. Not only in Europe where it's reached frightening levels, but in the US and around the world as well. A Rabbi walking to Temple was just shot and killed yesterday in Miami. And people question if this was a hate crime? Ignorance is bliss when it's not your people being targeted for extinction. I hear so many in disbelief over the atrocities going on in Iraq with the ISIS brutally killing women, children and men, burying them alive in mass graves, raping and selling women into slavery and forcing conversion or guaranteeing death.

While I've always had a difficult time wrapping my head around my own people's history of these same type of crimes against humanity, I've always been achingly aware that such hate does in fact exist. I'm not shocked by such stories. I've heard about them from my own people's history and am well aware that such heinous acts are committed far more often than I would like to think about.  Mind-numbing, earth-shattering, truly unthinkable acts of violence are committed against other human beings all in the name of hate. Hate bred by judgments, by labels, by being blinded by ignorance and generations of untruths told about groups of people who are different from you and from me.

I remember learning my Jewish history and reading about being expelled from nearly every country we've ever lived, including our homeland of Israel thousands of years ago... a couple times. We were forced to convert or die, experimented on, humiliated in ways that brings tears to my eyes to even try to imagine. Collectively as a people who have been questioned on why we never fought back (which isn't true, we did) we have said, ENOUGH! And yet every time we fight to defend our right to survive we are ostracized and condemned by the world and viewed as the type of evil those who try to exterminate us have taught their children we are. We are viewed as such evil not only by those who hate us, but by those who can see and even accept our differences, yet remain blind to the reality of what hate really is. Thus, blinded from the truth and understanding of the bigger picture and what's at stake.

Sometimes I wish I was one of those people. The kind who still believe that we can all get along and that will be enough. I wish I could believe it was possible to simply lay down our weapons and join hands and sing kumbaya with all those who hate us. As a Jew, I realize we won't survive if we are as naïve as we've been throughout history. We won't survive if we do not take these threats very seriously. Some may think we are over-reacting. That I'm over-reacting. I say, would you risk your life and that of your children by under-reacting? We are a people who desire peace and want nothing more than for all living things to love one another. Our scripture and covenant with God demands that we work to achieve just that. We forgive and we love. That's what being a Jew is. We fight the battles that make our hearts weep for the innocent lives lost because we know that our love of life and desire to survive will ultimately be the light that shines brighter than all the darkness of hate. It has to be or nothing will be left to fight for.

Those who label, who judge, who hate... they have somehow lost their ability to love. Or at least to love more than they hate. Without the ability to love, you lose your humanity. Without love in your heart you are capable of the unspeakable. Without love, you feel no remorse because your hate tells you what you are doing is right. Some may call that the devil at work. I'm not sure what it is, but it isn't God's hand at work, I know that much.

So I ask myself... would any of this be the way of the world if we were all born blind? In a way we are I guess. We're born innocent. We don't really notice the color of another's skin and we pay no mind to those who dress different, wear their hair different... until around the age of 3. Or until someone older points it out to us. Perhaps I should be wondering if we all lost our sight around the age of 5 or 6, would so many of us still be full of hate? I honestly don't believe we would. If all the books that preach to hate another group of people because they are different were burned and all the histories were taught as they actually occurred and we all lost our ability to judge by first sight once we were cognizant enough to realize that not everyone is the same, I think we would find ourselves in a very different world. A loving and accepting world perhaps.

Since I know none of that is possible, I truly have no answers for these questions that plague my heart. I've never been good at coming to a solid solution to the woes of the world and how to wipe out the sins of hate, jealousy and greed. My thoughts swim with the why's of it all and the how's of teaching my kids to hold on to their love and innocence. To be accepting of all people, even if they don't accept us. I know I can't protect them from all the hate that exists out there. It scares me beyond words knowing that so much of that hate is directed towards their sweet and pure little hearts by millions of people who have never even met them, yet hate them and would be happy to see my babies die simply because they were born different than most. This is reality. And it's not one I wish on any mother.

My heart aches for all those in Iraq and Syria and around the world facing this reality right now as they stare down the barrel of a gun or watch the axe fall on their own children's heads. I have no words. My heart just weeps. My wishing for the world to go blind so we can cease from judging and hating one another is just a silly notion of a scared mother praying such hate never gets it's hands on my own children. And praying that it releases it's grasp on all those it's already found. I wish I had the answer. All I can do is keep loving and not allow my heart to hate those who hate me.

Highstakes Blackjack

In ten days we go for our first follow up since starting our daughter on growth hormones. As some of you may know, I fought like crazy to avoid injecting what I viewed as a man made foreign substance into my daughter's body every day for what could be as long as a decade. In many ways, I still view her injections as such that it makes my heart flutter and body cringe with the thoughts of what's exactly being injected into her.

As with anything in the world of parenthood, I heard the varying opinions of everyone. Do it, give her a chance! Are you sure she needs it? Don't do it, don't put that stuff in her body! The last one screaming the loudest from my own thoughts as I, perhaps a little obsessively, thought of all the ways I have tried to keep her body as clean as possible from chemicals and the plethora of other contaminates we have littered our air, water, land with. All I could think was, what was the point if I was destined to inject her with at least some of that nastiness, every, single. day. I've found a bit of acceptance by understanding this is a hormone, like insulin for diabetics, and it's replacing what she's lacking, not adding something

I knew parenting would be hard. I didn't quite comprehend just how excruciatingly difficult some decisions would be, especially when everyone has a strong opinion and research always seems to contradict itself with each new study. While breast feeding may be a hot topic in the parenting world, for some bizarre reason I can't quite fathom, and the battling opinions over immunizations practically cause people to resort to all out brawls, my most challenging decision to date is without a doubt whether to go forward with giving my daughter growth hormones derived in some lab. Before all the opinions and judgments reign down... two years of testing indicated that her body wasn't producing enough of this essential hormone on it's own. Could I have more tests done? Sure. Could I repeat the growth hormone stimulation test using different medicines to test the levels again? Sure. But at some point, as a mother, I needed to make a decision and I felt that two years of every doctor telling us the same thing was enough for my little girl to endure.

While my gut still holds on to the feeling I should not do this, my heart tells me it's ultimately the best decision I could make with the hand I was dealt. Sometimes that's what parenting feels like, actually. Like you're playing multiple games of blackjack with every penny to your name on the table and you need to decide whether to hit or stay with each hand and then wait to see what the dealer turns. While the idea of such high stakes gambling gives me anxiety just thinking about it, making such a decision that impacts the life of the only thing you deem precious beyond, well, life itself, is quite frankly beyond any level of anxiety I've ever battled. In the end, I guess that's what most parenting decisions are though. Even the seemingly small ones can have a profound impact on our little ones lives.

In some ways, I've come to terms with my decision. I repeatedly tell myself it was the best option I had with the cards I was dealt, keeping with my blackjack analogy. I try to accept the choices I make each day and pray that something greater than myself has a plan. And that I'm making the right choices that are in line with that plan and they will lead us all down the path of health, peace and happiness. Perhaps my faith is wavering because I've always struggled with fully accepting my decisions. I often second guess and then return to third and fourth guess and so on. I wish I could just let go and let it be. To have faith. To accept.

Perhaps it's simply in my Jewish nature to constantly question and maybe I have more faith than I think. Questioning what is and constantly reevaluating for the best possible outcome for all is basically how the book was written for us Jews. Despite this, that doesn't give me the peace I seek. The peace that I'm helping my daughter and not hurting her. The peace that this was in fact the right decision and will benefit her in the long run. That these injections will benefit her health and not cause potential issues down the road. That they will make her chances for reaching puberty, and thus the ability to have her own children to fret over, a more guaranteed outcome.

Most people think I decided to give her the shots because she's so tiny. And most don't understand the need because I'm tiny. Everyone on both sides of our family are small so it wouldn't be a big deal if she was too. Even with the injections she will still be small. Her genetic potential is 5'1" and giving her growth hormone only gives her the possibility to reach her genetic potential. Regardless, it wasn't about her gaining height but ensuring she had enough of this necessary hormone for the rest of her body to develop appropriately that convinced me to agree to the treatments.

I found a support group online but most of the people there are predominately focused on the height. I can understand that when your son has the potential to reach 6' and is negative on the charts. A good number of the people in the group have fought for a long time for their child to receive growth hormone therapy while I was battling against it for nearly two years. Basically, this leaves me feeling like the odd mom out and alone with all these mixed feelings. Everyone in the support group who understands this plight can't understand why I wouldn't want my child to receive the treatment and everyone whose child grows normally simply doesn't understand. Though all of my friend's compassion and support goes a long way.

In the end, support group or not, I'm on my own with these feelings and questioning my decision no matter what. My husband wanted it from the start but agreed to do whatever I thought was best. Or at least allowed me to be as comfortable as I could be with it all before starting treatment. We're starting our third month of treatment and as I said, we go for a follow up in just over a week. While I'm anxious to know if she's grown, as that's really the only perimeter to gauge if it's working, I'm still left with the constant feeling of uncertainty. Uncertain if this is the right course of action. Uncertain if I should do more. Get more tests, more opinions. Something! Considering she's five, I have a long wait until there's any type of certainty that this was the right decision. That it helped.

So, each day I turn back to the hand I was dealt and I look at my cards. I go through all the possibilities and hold my breath as I hope and pray that taking the hit was the right move to make. Too bad the stakes aren't simply every penny to my name. They are so much higher. I think back to celebrating my 23 birthday in Vegas and almost laugh because never could I have dreamed then that being a parent would be like this.

As nerve-wracking as it is to wait nearly a decade to see if this was the right path to take for my daughter, I can't help but to also be thankful that this is the hardest decision I've had to make to date. She's healthy and we are blessed for that; compared to so many other parents that suffer the unimaginable. Her adventure seeking personality may not be thrilled that she's still too small for all the big rollercoasters she's determined to ride, but she's a happy little girl. Ultimately, that's what is important. I just need to remind myself that we live in the now and what will be will be.

Who said acceptance and living in the present was easy? Oh right, the same person who said being a parent is a cake walk. At the moment I guess I need to settle for a draw and wait for the next hand to be dealt. And keep marking that growth chart.

My 5 and 3&1/2 year old.
We are asked daily if they are twins.

Risky Parenting

I don't know how many of you saw this essay, The Day I Left My Son In The Car, that Huffington shared this week. It's very long. Much longer than I tend to follow through with finishing. However, it's very thought provoking on a number of levels and so many points hit home that I started to hear Sheldon in my head saying, bazinga!

If you can't find the time to read it, trust me, I get it. I had to put it down at least 7 times for things like getting my daughter to stop coloring on her brother as a punishment for ticking her off, to wipe a butt and since I was reading it while I made and served lunch, well, you know how that goes. Considering this blog is called self talk insanity, it's probably no surprise that my head needs a release from a read such as this one. So, I decided to jot down a handful of the keepers and why those statements really resonated with me. This is rather long too. Sorry, but it's a lot to think about!

      "For the next four or five seconds, I did what it sometimes seems I’ve been doing every 

       minute of every day since having children, a constant, never-ending risk-benefit
       analysis..... And then I left him in the car for about five minutes."

I find myself in this mom's decision making predicament almost daily and to be honest, I had NO IDEA us loving, often viewed as overprotective, certainly overly worried parents could be CHARGED with a serious crime for choosing not to drag our tantrum throwing little people into the store with us. Now, the question or debate perhaps becomes, where does one draw the line on considering the situation a safe, quick, unencumbered run inside, to a potentially unsafe situation? Some might say it's unsafe no matter what. If you can't see your car/kids for any amount of time, I'd fall in the category of feeling it's unsafe. No matter what. But I can be a little paranoid, even if my sit back and let them be independent style gives one the impression otherwise. 

I won't lie though. I leave my kids in the car at least once each week. Though, they remain in my view the whole time and if it's hot, I leave the car running with the air on. If anyone so much as gets within 5' of the car I'm heading for the door. I only do this when I'm getting coffee and I only when I'm at a coffee shop that has glass throughout the front.  I also only leave them if I can get a spot right at the door. I also don't stay if there's a long line. I get them or head for the nearest drive though coffee shop. I usually can even see what they are doing. If my drink is taking more than a couple minutes I go out and check in with them. Yes, I have this down to a science. A mom science anyway. Some might say even this is not okay. Hey, to each his own. You're welcome to that opinion.

I don't think what this mom did was the best choice, even she says that, but despite it being my view that you don't leave your kids in the car if you can't see them, I felt this mom being charged was way overboard. Heck, drug users even get a three strike your out rule. You can get a slap on the wrist for sexual assault and even rapists can be sentenced to as little as 2 years! One poor parenting decision and there's a warrant out for her arrest!? Whoa. Eye opener. How did we get to this point though?

I found it even more disturbing that someone found the situation unsafe enough to video it and report it to authorities, yet they didn't find it appropriate to give that mom the benefit of the doubt that this was a split second, poor decision in an endless cluster of otherwise safe choices made throughout the day, and instead choose to walk up to her and suggest  that she not leave her child unattended. Or maybe even offer to watch the car if she was only going to be a couple minutes. What parent doesn't get what a royal pain it can be to drag your child in somewhere when they put their foot down that they don't want to go? I've done it and I'm surprised I wasn't reported because, to some bystander who only got a piece of the picture, it looked like I was abusing my child when in fact I was simply trying to stop him from throwing himself out of my arms as I try to untangle him from my body in an attempt to confine him to the cart while he's still flailing about and screaming "No, I don't want to Gooooooooo, nooooooo!" Those are the days you want to go home and curl up in bed and wish the kids would do the same! Never happens though. Rather than taking a video of one of your not so great parenting moments, offer to help. Now THAT would be a Good Samaritan. Or, would it?

The truly sad part of this alternative is, if another parent did offer a struggling mom, clearly a rush, that simple gesture of kindness, the mom's guard would likely go up and she would be more inclined to be wary of the stranger and take her child in with her. I would anyway. That mom who was about to leave her child might even report that stranger as a potential threat.  The thought would cross my mind. They say, better safe than sorry. But wow, how different this situation could have been, huh? Like the mom who wrote this article says, "In place of 'It takes a village,' our parenting mantra seems to be 'every man for himself'". Even more, it's clear to me that stranger danger is a concept we now identify with more than "community" and I can't help but to shake my head at how far we seem to have gone astray as a society in this regard. I'm as guilty as the next guy with this one, despite my belief that most people are good.

        "We sabotage ourselves with impossible standards, live with a chronic fear of not

          measuring up in what’s supposed to be our most important calling." ... "This is
          America and parenting is now a competitive sport, just like everything else."

These words probably made the most profound impact because they are so painfully true. With those words weighing on my mind since reading them, I've observed my actions and others actions while out and about with the kiddos these past few days. For the first time I can think of I wondered things like, what does that mom think of me sitting back while my kids splash and have fun in the baby pool while they are sitting on the edge, clearly not wanting to get in, like myself. I often revisit such situations after the fact or I just don't care to even consider it. Yet, I found myself wondering what those nearby thought about things they may have heard me say to the kids, whether it was threatening to leave wherever we were for not listening or warning them to watch their step and be careful. Was I too mean, too overprotective, or not being a "good enough" mom? Were they judging me or comparing my parenting to what they were doing? Did I measure up? Did they feel they measured up? What are we comparing our parenting to anyway? There's no manual. Well, actually there's a lot. And they all say something different.

I typically don't pay attention to such things. I really don't. I have enough on my plate than to care about such trivial things. Maybe others don't pay attention or care either. But, I think others may be paying more attention than I am because it's pretty clear this parenting thing is a competition, of sorts, to many parents. When you read anything online or see others Facebook posts, it  certainly feels like some sort of competition most of the time. I just choose not to compete. Except with myself that is. I'm the only mom I ever need to be better than. Quite frankly, that's more competition than I can bare most days! 

I know I'm far from "perfect". For one, such a mom is a myth our generation of parents seem to have imagined and then set out to beat. Two, I'm far from this imaginary perfect mom because I screw up daily. Many times each day in fact. I may not leave my kids in the car when I can't see it or even let them go far enough that I can't see them. Does that make me better than the mom whose daughter ran out of the play area at the mall and she had only realized when someone came and asked if anyone was missing a little blond girl? Heck no! It could happen to any of us. But I bet she felt like we were all judging her and she probably felt like a craptastic mom in that moment. I would have if it were me. Though I would have learned from it too and positioned myself differently next time. 

I make mistakes all the time and each night I tell myself I'll do better tomorrow. It's all I can do. I get angry with myself almost daily, and like everything in my life, I find it difficult to let things go and to forgive, especially myself. I hate yelling. I hate when I'm flat out mean because I'm so mad I can't remember to stop and breathe and then respond. I hate when I feel like a bad mom. The last thing I need to do is worry that others are comparing themselves to me and being concerned that they think they are "better". What's better anyway?

So, that minor I got in sociology came to the forefront a bit and for a change I decided to observe others as well. Or be more observant I should say. I always try not to judge, though in extreme cases, I certainly have some thoughts go through my head that are less than all loving and accepting, kumbaya type thoughts. I do try to reframe those thoughts and think, maybe that mom's just having a bad day. I've certainly had them while out in public. If it's a mom really on her game, I try to take note for future situations where I can snag some of her skills and put them to good use. It's never a competition in my head though. Maybe I'm just not a very competitive person. As I observed more, I realized how easy it would be to compare my ways to other moms. Even to compete. I see how our American mindset brings out this, more is better, I must be the best, mentality, even in parenting. I don't like it.

I get why so many seem to have switched gears and now coddle their kids. It's probably most obvious in how we now give trophies just for showing up. Next we'll be telling them great job for crossing the street by themselves at the age of 15! We're "graduating" our kids from preschool for crying out loud. My daughter definitely didn't obtain a degree at 3 years old. Yeah, they look cute in their caps and gowns, but what does it teach them? I worked hard for my degrees and in part it was to set a higher standard for my kids to want to achieve more; a higher expectation when it comes to academics. I don't want them to think such things are just handed to them.

     "Psychologists and social scientists wonder if we’re not instilling children with a sense of learned
      helplessness that makes them into subfunctional, narcissistic young adults who have an
      overinflated sense of worth and sensitivity"

I think that's exactly what we are doing! I don't wonder. I see it. Don't get me wrong, I worry with the best of them. I somehow can envision every awful thing that can possibly happen in every given situation. My husband thinks I'm insane most of the time if I even suggest why I'm anxious about certain things. He doesn't see danger in the same ways as I do. Like, in everything. He doesn't even think of it, as he says. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one. Again, I do a good job outwardly of reigning in this anxiety, because I understand they need to learn and not just be told, but the worry is there. It's always there.

Example of one of my more ridiculous moments of looking 10 steps ahead (literally) for potential danger... We were walking through the grass at the pool and it had a lot of those little white weed flowers that bees love. I caught myself looking ahead of my daughter's path to make sure there wasn't a bee she would step on and get stung. She's never stepped on one. I've never stepped on one. I just have seen them fly away from those flowers and thought, she could step on one. I should watch so I can prevent that. 

     "'The problem is... there’s some risk to every choice you make.'", Lenore Skenazy is quoted as
       telling this author. 

Isn't that the truth?! I do those risk benefit analyses in each situation and once I feel the kids are as safe as they can be with the least chance of injury, tantrum or fighting with one another, I step back. I rarely hover. I just need eyes on them. I've never been one to gasp and run when they fall. I'll calmly walk over, give a hug, check if they are injured, offer an ice pack if necessary in my futile effort to limit their endless supply if bruises, and we move on. They move on. Unless they are tired, of course. Then there's no moving on. Just the end of the world. Or so it seems.

      "Skenazy boils it down to this. 'There’s been this huge cultural shift. We now live in a society
       where most people believe a child can not be out of your sight for one second, where people
       think children need constant, total adult supervision. This shift is not rooted in fact. It’s not
       rooted in any true change. It’s imaginary. It’s rooted in irrational fear.'"

That's me! I remember walking with my best friend to the local pool at the age of 8. The pool was down the hill I lived on so we took a shortcut through what one might call the woods. There were steps and everything but one might see it as the perfect setting for the boogie man to jump out and snatch two little girls right up. Not only did we do this almost daily for a whole summer but we also then spent the whole day at the pool. By ourselves! We bought our own food. We swam on our own, without swimmies or life vests. Even applied our own sunscreen. Somehow, we managed. to survive. I remember playing at a friends house well into the dark with all our friends in the neighborhood. No parents were sitting out watching us. They were home, but not supervising. Again, we all managed to survive. And get into some mischief. Isn't that what being a kid is all about though?

Honestly, I can't imagine feeling comfortable with my kids doing these things. Thinking of them walking on their own on busy streets or back paths though secluded areas makes me feel sick to my stomach. Is it really anymore dangerous today? From what I've read, not really. Maybe we just hear about it more now. With the Internet and info so readily available, we don't have a choice. Maybe our parents were more naïve and innocent regarding all the big bad wolves out there or they closed their eyes and shut their ears to reduce their anxiety. Whatever the case, I don't see a way back. Once those thoughts are in your head, they don't just go away. And we're left with what exactly? Being "overprotective" or dealing with our anxiety and praying for the best. Our kids have to spread their wings and fly a little bit each day, right?

       "Of all the difficult parts of parenting, the hardest for me (and for many people, I think) is not the
         fatigue or time drain or chaos of family life, but the inability to ensure that nothing terrible will
        ever happen to my children. This desire to prevent suffering in one’s kids is stronger than the
       desire to breathe, stronger than my most basic human instincts. And yet, no matter how strong
       the desire, none of us can do it. We just can’t."


Despite this overwhelming desire to protect and prevent, we will still make mistakes and some poor parenting choices. Probably each day. Why? Because each and every one of us is human and that's what humans do. Humans also have the infinite ability to learn. We can't go back and remove all the images and stories of tragedies that have happened to others kids. Rather than compete in this imaginary parenting race, why not learn from each other instead? Isn't that a big part of what "It Takes a Village" is all about anyway? I think we need that village now more than ever.

 

Career Mom

I'm back! I know, it's a miracle; twice in a week. Or more accurate would be, within 7 days time, because Sunday-Saturday is an obsolete time frame in the world of a stay at home mom. Which brings me to one of the things that has been weighing on my mind... oh, for about four years now. Wow, I can't believe it's been that long since I quit my out of home job to take on the role of mommy, a.k.a. Homemaker.

Every time I write that word, homemaker, on some form that asks my occupation I feel like I'm back in the 50's. I get this vision of putting a dress on every morning, doing my hair, painting on makeup I never wore to begin with, preparing some 3 course meal for dinner all while playing with the kids and teaching them their ABC's and ensuring they are read at least one book per day, because you know that's been proven to be the most important thing when it come to early learning! *sigh* Oh right, and ensuring the house is spotless... each day. Ha. 

My husband definitely came home to this one day
shortly after our move

 

I cringe every time I call myself a homemaker because all that is soooo not me. And I hate to admit it. I really do. I want to be that mom. That mom who says, I LOVE being home with my kids, I can't wait to have more running around... watching me pee and making it so my every other day ability to shower turns into, wait, when did I last shower? Yeah, not happening. I must have been having some sort of delusional episode when I wrote Hmmm, Three. I really do want to be that mom who bakes each day and enjoys playing dolls and dinosaurs and doesn't do it just because she feels she has to. I have fought every day for 4 years to be that mom. The one I always wanted to be. The one I truly thought I would be. The one I wished my mom could have been for me, because she would have been really good at being that mom. She was good at the single working mom thing too.

If you've never been a stay at home mom, other than those first few weeks when your job was awesome enough to give you paid time off to be with your new little bundle of joy or you made due and took whatever time you could, then you won't understand this plight. And that's okay. It is. I can vaguely remember the working outside of the home mom plight at this point. I have a lot of other posts you can peruse if you like, because this probably isn't the one for you!

I've talked to a number of mom's about this, read countless blog posts and articles, many of which somehow turn into some judging match of who is the better mom, which makes my blood boil. It's not a competition folks! Most recently though, I overheard a conversation that really hit home for me. A mom was telling another mom how she tried the stay at home mom thing for 10 months and realized it wasn't for her. She commented she felt guilty going back to work at first but her kids love their daycare time and they are learning a lot she loves her adult time at work. Ahhhh, adult time, whoa, what is that, I thought in my head. That sounds heavenly whatever it is! Especially since I'm pretty sure I've lost all sense of proper social skills since staying home. Example: when my husband gave our son another cookie at a party this weekend I yelled across the way to stop and get it from him. Because, well, when your kids are acting like fools and an earshot away, it's totally okay to yell for them to stop and come here, right?

I should note, my kids are allergic to dairy, add on eggs for my son, and my husband had already given the kids cookies earlier, like an hour earlier. It drives me crazy that he constantly does this because he wants to be like everyone else. Seriously? You want to make your kid uncomfortable and get his reflux all flared up, which the doctor's believe is what's causing his chronic ear and sinus infections, because all the other kids are eating cookies?! I can semi set aside my clean eating, no dyes, HFCS and other garbage in that sort of stuff when at parties because it's the only time they get those things, but when they are allergic to it and it can lead to other issues, I do sort of loose it at some point. Ok, sorry, rant over.

In the end, what this mom I never officially met said was a real eye opener for me. For some reason, I've never thought about going back to work that way. As in, doing it because it's what I need and that being OKAY! My mom always put what I needed or wanted first. At least that's how I remember it. She worked because she had to. I guess I had it in my head that's the way it should be. In many ways, it is. You're whole life turns upside down once you become a parent but that doesn't mean every. single. thing. you do must be centered around the kids. Does it? If you need to work in order to keep your sanity and to be able to truly enjoy your time with your kids then you should be able to dothat, without the added emotion of guilt.

I can't seem to figure out where this overwhelming feeling of guilt comes from each time I start to look for work outside of the home, something I've done more and more of recently. Actually, it stems from a number of places, both external and internal. But I could psychoanalyze those reasons until the moon is up. So, I end up squashing the idea of a job search because I can't take the guilt. 

I grew up in a daycare and I hated it. That doesn't mean my kids would. In fact, I'm pretty sure mine would love it. They are very social and I was very shy as a child. I liked being around adults better. I wanted to be home with my mom like most of my friend's were. Especially once I was school age and all my friends went home while I went to daycare. That doesn't mean my kids desire to be home with me above all else though. And that's where I go round and round and round and end up right back here. At home, thinking, why can't they play nice for more than 5 minutes so I can get this darn blog post written! And of course feeling guilty because I'm taking an hour to write it, rather than pretending to be a princess or a frog or making up what sounds an awful lot like a new language and then singing it to the tune of twinkle twinkle little star. Yes, both can sing that song but my son prefers to talk like a monster and/or create his own crazy concoction of made up words when he sings it. It's actually pretty hilarious.

I feel like I'm complaining but I'm not trying to. I'm truly at a crossroads I think many mom's have faced before and may be facing along with me now. I love my kids like nothing else in the world. I love them above all else. I'd do anything for them. I'd give anything for them. I live for them. And I'm beginning to realize that is precisely the problem. I somehow lost myself and became solely a mom. No one can be the mom they desire to be when they have forgotten who they are as an individual.

I had hoped being a yoga instructor would help alleviate this need do more than be a mom and steer me back on the path to myself. I loved my teaching time in WV. I loved having my own money coming in too. I didn't feel hopelessly dependent on my husband. Unfortunately, I'm having difficulty getting started back up since we moved. I can't seem to find the right fit here and it's beginning to weigh on me. With summer upon us, it will be even more difficult, as my 4 week workshop starting tomorrow can attest to considering no one has signed up yet. I had all my connections in place in WV since I did my training there. I keep putting feelers out and using every resource I can think of here but nothing seems to come to fruition and my frustration is rising. Thus, while I'm happy to be back in my home state, I'm also back to being "just a mom". I don't mean that in the sense that it's not the most important "job" out there, I mean that it's all I have. Like I said earlier, that's just not me. I'm not Suzie homemaker. And far from mother of the year. Huffington Post recently posted a question asking what the best age is. One response said something along the lines of loving every single age even more and how wonderful it all is. I can't lie, I definitely gagged a bit. Are the people who write that stuff serious?! God, I hope not or that whole far from mother of the year is more like bottom of the totem pole.

I always dreamed big and to think my ambition now is a daily to do list which includes a weekly goal of getting all four toilets in the house clean and for once not forgetting something at the grocery store so I don't have to go there four times each week, it's sort of depressing. Heck, I'd be happy if I could remember my to do list each day, and to put on deodorant, because lord knows my mommy brain has shifted into overdrive and I'm truly concerned about the number of functioning brain cells I have left. Seriously though, I want to enjoy this choice I made to stay home. I want to enjoy my time with my kids. At least more often than I desire to ring their necks! They won't be little for long and I'll miss it if I keep going like this. I really want to want this as my sole "job" but as a mom on a blog I read recently pointed out, this isn't a job. And she's right. Being a parent is simply a part of life once you are one. It's a responsibility, for life, NOT a job, or a career. Balancing on that fine line of it being your whole life and having a life is possibly more challenging that the whole parenting gig itself!

After nearly 5 years, I'm still trying each day to figure out that balance of life and parenthood. My goal is to figure out what works for ME, and soon, without the mommy guilt! Anyone know if that's possible? I sure hope so.

Return

Yes, I'm alive. Yes, I still have this blog. Yes, I feel like the worst blogger ever for disappearing like I have. So, for the first time in forever I'm not making an excuse as to why I don't have the time to sit here and write. Though in my back of my head I'm telling myself to simply sit in this lovely jacuzzi tub with the last of my relaxing lavender salts, and wine, and just be still. Just once. Since I know myself well, I know that's not possible for my 100 mile per hour mind and I would quickly grab a book to fill the void. So, I figured I'd take the leap and return back to you all! 

And YES, I've watched Disney Frozen so much over the past couple of months that not only do I go to sleep singing the soundtrack in my head, and during the numerous times I typically wake up or am woken up by a little person throughout the night, but apparently the lyrics are now becoming a part of my daily lingo. Wonderful.

Aside from the incessant Frozen watching, reenactments and soundtrack singing, I do have a fairly good reason for my long absence. A couple of reasons actually. We have officially returned back to our home state! In fact, we are officially settled in our new home. Most rooms are done, most furniture is bought and boxes are a thing of the past. Best of all, we've met nearly all our neighbors and we are ecstatic that we found a neighborhood even better than we could have dreamed of for our forever home!

If the move alone isn't grounds for a bit of a blogging reprieve then perhaps my daughter starting her growth hormone replacement therapy is. If you've been around my blog for while then you may remember the plethora of tests we've gone through over the past couple years that left me in a bit of a state of anxiety laced with freak out, worry over things that can not be changed, mom mode. Well, I finally agreed to the 4 hour long growth hormone stimulation test, with the intent to tell everyone who was pushing for growth hormones to piss off once it was done. Didn't I get a surprise when the results came back that my little girl is in fact growth hormone deficient. We waited for our move and had an appointment with our new endocrinologist the first week we were in town. Less than two months later I was able to get her approved for medical assistance (thank God!), she was approved for GH (growth hormone) and we started home injections 10 days ago. Yikes! Even writing it all makes my head spin a bit. Oh, and my son decided to join the medical parade party and has been to the pediatrician 3 times, the allergist once and his new ENT once. Oh right, and an urgent care once. Despite getting tubes in December, we can't seem to shake an ear infection. Yes, all this in two months. 

So, please forgive me for leaving this little place in the dust and let's try to get back to all my self talk insanity, which I've been told helps some of you feel a bit less lonely in your own insanity! Hopefully no one has gone off the deep end these pasts months, aside from myself that is. And off the deep end I have plunged! A few times.

With that... On with the show!

I actually meant to write on Mother's Day. It was to be a vow to my kids that I felt I needed to get out of my head to make it more legit; making me stick to my words. Instead, I had an opportunity to teach my first yoga class since moving so I jumped at the chance. Then I helped my husband move 5 cubic yards of dirt into the raised garden we built. Good times.

Following that desire to get myself back here, I had one of my many epiphanies last week after a random online chat with my aunt. This major epiphany was that I can no longer be a grump butt (as we lovingly call the kids on those days we want to strangle them). I thought, hmmmm, maybe I should let all this self talk fly through my fingers in order to ensure it sticks, verses getting lost in this crazy head of mine.

Unfortunately, I didn't hit the computer and that little message to my inner self to stop being a grump butt only lasted through our home warming party last weekend. Basically, a couple days. I've since been back to letting others actions dictate my mood. I continue to have this ridiculous notion that if someone does something I don't like, or worse yet, that they promised me they wouldn't and then do it anyway, that me being pissed off at them (and the rest of the world for that matter) will make them... I don't know what I think it will make the person do. Stop their behaviors? Do what they say they will? I really don't know.

I know this. Yelling does not make anyone do anything different. And it makes me feel 100 times worse. Threats may work in the moment but, in the case of my kids, am I seriously going to throw away ALL their toys? As a former behavior specialist, I am more than well aware that idle threats will never work. Mainly because the person knows you won't follow through as much as you know it! I tend to remember counting to ten, leaving the room and deep breaths after I'm beyond the point of reason. The result... I stay mad. I actually hold a grudge over my kids not listening at this point, I'm that frustrated. So, that anger lingers through the day, and the night, and then I'm woken up 2 or 3 times throughout the night so I wake up tired and cranky and still angry and we start all over again. Because being in a perpetual state of anger is clearly a sure fire way to make others do what you ask and expect of them. I'll show them, ummm, or not. 

The same goes for my husband. Which is where this all began, as many of you know. My emotional state tends to be 100% centered around his drinking. The good days are clear to all who know me and the bad ones are just as obvious. Considering I have that erroneous notion that holding on to my anger will create some sort of change, the bad days tend to linger even when we could enjoy a lull in the madness. Though I still feel I've made positive strides, there's days, and weeks, I feel I take 10 steps back. And that is likely why when I took a silly survey last night and it asked about my best friend, I had no clue how to answer the question. I sat for a long time trying to decide who my best friend even was anymore. I'd guess Craig would have to do the same thing. Which is really. really. sad. 


The worst part of psychoanalyzing my thoughts and actions is that I KNOW what I need to release my insanity. I know what I need to do. The part that makes me feel as though I'm teetering on true insanity status is that I continue to not to follow through on what I know must happen and what I need. It's that ugly feeling of being out of balance with oneself. This is why each day I hear the words of one of my favorite fellow boys from the Tribe, Albert Einstein, rattling around in my head.... Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Yup, that's me.

So, with that daily realization, I have returned to this little blog. I can't promise to dedicate as much time as I did in the past, but I intend to try. My hope in doing so is to return to my more sane state of being, which I managed to find here before. Being open and honest about our struggles seems to be the missing piece right now. That and more yoga. And as always, I hope this quest for my own sanity helps others realize they aren't alone in their daily struggles that life happily, and indiscriminately, hands out to each one of us.


I'll return soon friends. Until then, be well.

If you have a loved one you lost in the line of duty, I hope this weekend has you reminiscing of fond memories and I thank you and your lost loved one for their service. As well as all who fight for our country.

Namaste!

Hope and Books

I haven't forgotten about this little place. I've just been continuing to remain immersed in my paranormal romance, fantasy, action packed, forbidden love stories that keep my mind off all the things I should be doing and thinking through. Just so you fully understand my new found obsession, I decided to include a list of all the books I've read over the past few months at the end.

Other than my head being buried in a book 24/7, or more accurately my phone or iPad on the kindle app, I've also been contemplating what I want to do with my life. Yes, yoga was a dream and I finally completed my certification... but then found that it remains challenging to teach with my kids still so young. On top of that it also means my own practice has slacked off so much I have to wonder if I should be teaching right now. Not having a husband I can trust to leave my kids alone with, for fear of him drinking the moment I walk out the door, started to make my dream more an anxiety filled task. At the same time, feeling trapped at home with my only role being "Mommy" has made me realize I am not the mother I thought I would be. Or could be. Most of the time I don't even feel like I'm a good mom. 

My solution... I need to go back to work. I need time away from my kids so I can regain patience and enjoy their sweet little smiles and intoxicating giggles. The problem... I don't have an overwhelming passion to do much of anything. Other than teach yoga... but I can't exactly teach 4 classes back to back every day without burning out quickly. So, in between my reading and the typical mommy duties... I've been brainstorming how to bring a bit of happiness back to my life via some sort of work I desire to do outside of the home. 

My favorite job was a Starbucks barista. That and my waitress job in south beach. Since I can't exactly pick up and move back to the  beach, I think my solution is to find a cute little local coffee shop and get back to keeping the community awake! While I'd love to go back to getting a "real" paycheck, I also do not want to add to my stress level. Being a therapist isn't the most stress free of career choices so... making coffee... that I can do. A barista is nothing short of a daytime bartender anyway and we all know a bartender is as close to a therapist without the need to confidentiality as you can get. Couple that with some yoga classes, and hopefully a number of privates to make child care worth the cost, and I just may be able to reclaim a piece of that ever elusive happiness I'm always seeking. If nothing else, a consistent break from my sole role of mommy so I can get back to enjoying the most important "job" I have. The only one that really matters. And there you have it. My big plan.

Though our upcoming move has left me with a bittersweet feeling and the anxiety of finding that "perfect" home has finally come to an end, as of today actually, I'm slowly allowing myself to feel a small sense of hope. I gave up allowing myself to feel hope some time ago; around when I realized I wasn't going to leave my husband and he wasn't going to fight the alcoholic in him hard enough to overcome it either. So to even feel an inkling of hope right now is a rather foreign emotion and I'm not sure how to react to it. My first instinct is to push it aside because allowing hope to surface has only left me feeling hopeless far too many times over the past handful of years. I'm fighting that urge though. With a new home on the horizon and a solid plan in place to get myself back out in the world of the living, I think allowing myself to feel a bit of hope is a positive first step in the right direction. 

In the meantime... there's the fun parts of moving to be accomplished like getting our new doctors in place, or old ones reestablished, getting the kids into a new school, packing... again, getting on the schedule at a yoga studio or two, changing our address...again. And of course there's many more of my vampire, witches, werewolves, fairy and other supernatural creatures apocalyptic filled drama and love stories left to indulge in. 

So my friends, here's to giving hope another shot. And may you never lose your hope like I did. It's really no way to live. 

Namaste.


And as promised... My "recent" book list. Recent as in about the past 5 months. Like I said, I have a problem! Yes, I've read all of these. Some a couple of times. And I may have missed some as formatting all this was a pain in the butt! Some are for an adult audience, which I didn't realize at the time, but they were excellent.


 

Giving the werewolves some love too.
2 in this series and definitely for
adults only.

 

There's 5 or 6 of this series depending
how you buy it. Very unique.
Can be more violent than one
might like but it's cheap and very good.

I hate to even say I read this series b/c it said it was going to continue with another trilogy and then the author just went MIA. But it was interesting... with no real ending.



Loved this series. 3rd one in
trilogy is not released yet. Check
out author's page here.







6 in this series. Last one to be
released in May. 1st one is a
movie already. Read them all in
5 days! Check them out here.

There are 10 books total in this series 
(Vampires Realm) and a few shorts you
can download for free here. Loved them all.


 







Only read first 3. Another adult read.
Same author as Vampires Realm. Sharing
my supernatural love with angels :)





Yup, read all 13. Prefer the original
author but I was hooked so I kept
on until the end. More to come! Order
to read is here. NOTHING like the show.

My most recent read. Cried my eyes out during
book 3! Unique, action and epic love story!



Just a good romance series. No
supernatural stuff. Series is here.


 

Home Sweet Home

As a child we moved quite a bit. It was often just my mom and I, with a period of time when she was in a long term relationship and even engaged. But mostly, just us... moving each year, never really having a place to call home. There wasn't a reason that I know of, we just moved. Change of scenery I guess. 

Somewhere along the line it became a running joke of calling our moves "spring cleaning". I can't remember who coined the little joke of our gypsy-like lifestyle, that wasn't really gypsyish at all since we always lived within less than a 10 mile radius, but the no roots part gave it a gypsy sort of feel. I was in 3 different elementary schools until 5th grade, when we finally settled... to live with my Pap. That was my home until I was 16. My mom's childhood home became the only place I ever knew as "home", though, it really wasn't "ours".

Ironically, twenty years later, my mom still lives in the same little house we moved in to after that, with my now stepdad. She found a place she calls home. The thing is, I only lived there two years before venturing off to college so it's my mom's home, not my home. I haven't even had my own room there in many years. 

In college, I of course moved a lot. Each year in fact, as most college students do. I lived in Charleston, SC one summer, subletted a place in State College another summer and the summer before graduating took me to California for an internship. I then took a job out there and moved twice in the 9 months I was there. If you didnt keep count... that's 9 addresses in 4 years. Upon returning to State  College for another year and 1/2, I added 3 more addresses to my tally before venturing down to South Beach (Miami) for grad school. 

From there I moved on to AmeriCorps the following year and then landed in St. Louis upon finishing my service. I actually ended up at the same address for over a year there! Then I called off my engagement and moved... Again. Upon finishing grad school I made my way "home", to my Pap's. Things finally slowed down when my now husband and I found our way back to each other and planted ourselves in Lancaster. We actually owned a home! The three years we spent there was the longest I lived anywhere, other than my Pap's house growing up. It was my first home.

I got married while living in that house. I brought both my babies home to that house. And then, we were off and running once again. Another house, another place to call home. Though I knew it was a 5 year plan and not a place to call our forever home, over 2 years under the same roof was something to relish in a bit. If you follow my ramblings here then you know I had a love/hate relationship with that old house. It was a pain in my backside, with something needing fixed practically every month. Heck, I was allergic to the darn place! But it felt like home. I adjusted to life in that house and our community quicker than I did anywhere else I had ever lived. And then... 2 days after listing it and sticking that for sale sign in the yard, it was gone. 

I wasn't ready. I'm still not... even as I once again find myself going through the rigmarole of changing my address on every credit card, utility, online shopping site I use, doctor bills and bank accounts... it's still a bit unreal. And it's amazing how much harder it is to move the older you get! It was easy to have 9 addresses in four years back in the day. Change utilities, pack up my clothes and I was off to the races, so to speak. 

So that my friends is where I've been these past couple months. Well, moving, working through some medical stuff with the kids and being addicted to my paranormal romance books. While I knew the move was coming since October, once the ball got rolling it sort of found a mountain and was released and I was more expecting a nice slow game of crochet! To avoid the stress, I threw my mind into my ebooks to avoid everything else as much as I could.

All our things are in storage some 250 miles away and the kids and I are renting a little house so I can continue to teach my yoga classes and privates and they can continue to go to school with their friends, where they are happy and comfortable. Which means once again, I have no home. My kids no longer have a place to call home and while we are blessed to have a roof over our heads to keep us warm and somewhere safe to go (my mom's) when our water becomes tainted with chemicals, my heart still aches that ache only a parent can feel. I want more for my kids. I want their life to be different and substantially better than mine ever was. It's what every parent wants for their child. It's like it's part of a parent's DNA to desire such things. I don't want them moving every couple years and not having a place they can call home.

I'm also certainly aware that my kids are far better off than I was and then most kids are. They have been provided for in a way my mom worked her butt off, often working 6 days/week, to do for me. Yet it still pains me. My husband and I made a rookie house hunting mistake by waiting 12 hours to see one more house rather than making the offer on the house we knew in our hearts we wanted. Now that house is gone. There's nothing left to see and no other place we can envision calling our forever home, at this point. So we wait. Every day I get my new home listing and every day I want to cry as nothing new comes in, nothing we want or ones we may want but are just out of reach financially. 

We've both done it all on our own. We paid for school ourselves and are paying down student loans. We didn't have parents or grandparents in a position to help us financially in getting started. Our families are more than generous and our kids want for nothing, which has enabled us to better ourselves in many ways and keep our credit card debt far below that of the average Americans. Yet I still always feel this sense of struggle. 

I'm sure it's 100% related to that parent DNA of wanting more for their kids. It's like I can taste the fight my mom put up to give me everything she could. I watched her struggle and I watched her pain when she had to tell me "no" to things. She couldn't afford gymnastics, no matter how much I begged, but her dance teacher growing up ensured she could afford to put me in dance. While I wasn't very good, it still provided me with a sense of confidence every young girl needs. It warms me to know I don't have to worry about such things. My kids aren't even in school yet and have done more activities than I was able to be involved in throughout my whole childhood! Gymnastics and swimming. Violin and soccer. We've got T-ball and more soccer on the horizon and really, anything they desire. They will have the opportunity to find their calling, whatever it may turn out to be, and follow their dreams with few obstacles in their way. I know we are lucky and they won't know that struggle I did as a child.

I'm able to stay home with them which is something I dreamed of as a kid. I wished my mom could be home when I got home for school. I hated daycare and begged and cried until she finally let me come home on my own at the age of 8. There weren't the laws then as there are now and the owners of the house lived downstairs if I needed anything. I dreamed of the day though that I could be that mom who was always there. The one who could drive my kids to school and volunteer in the classroom or on field trips. I never dreamed that staying home with my kids would be so damn hard, of course! I'm certainly not my mother. She had patience and would have been a fantastic stay at home mom. I keep thinking I'll get better but my patience grows more thin each day and I've been questioning this dream quite a bit lately. But that's another post for another time.

I have other dreams though. To ensure my kids are raised Jewish, to pay for their college and to provide them a place to call home are a few of the biggies. A place they can be proud to come home to each day. One they are excited to invite their friends over to. One they look forward to coming back to after they are grown and spread their wings. I know deep down it sounds so shallow and materialistic of me because in the end, it's just a house, but I can't help what I want for them. I want them to have what I didn't. And everything in between. 

It's what keeps me holding on tot the sliver of hope that their father will get the help he needs to be sober for the long haul, so that they have a dad. It's what keeps me from going back to a full time job outside of the home, so I can be there with them until they spend their days in school. It's what keeps me putting money into their college fund when I'm sure it could be put to good use in other places  right now. And it's what breaks my heart when I search each day and can't find them a home. 

Sure, home is where the heart is and all that. I get it. My home is my mom. As cliché as the home is where the heart is... old habits die hard. Lifelong dreams, no matter how trivial they may be in the grand scheme of life, are difficult to let go of. I'm sure we'll find something. Eventually. I just hate to let go of any part of that dream and settle in any way. I've settled in many ways when it comes to life and I fear one more might just break my will to fight for each of my dreams. It may just be a bunch of wood and nails, but this house we search for represents so much more than that at this point. The symbolism of it, of providing our kids a home is all I can hold on to right now when it feels like so many other parts of my life keep crumbling down. 

So, fingers crossed, positive vibes, and all that goodness is much appreciated. And I apologize for such a lengthy absence. I hope this explains it and all is forgiven!

Please keep uplifting thoughts for all those effected my the chemical spill where I live as well. It's a long road ahead here in West Virginia. It's a scary thing to think your water may have a nasty chemical in it for many years to come and no one knows it's lasting effects on people or the environment. Maybe someday we humans will learn. Our planet is not unbreakable and we need it to survive. 

Namaste friends. 

Bye Bye Home