We choose NOT to spank. Here's why.

This last weekend, I came across a great article about alternative 'disciplinary' tools to use in place of spanking and, being that we're a family who has forgone spanking, I shared it on my page.

I was not expecting to get the reaction I did.

It was not good.

I was floored. Really?? I'm a bad mom because I don't want to hit my kids? Are you kidding me?? Are we still that primitive? Sure, your parents may have spanked you. Maybe your grandparents used a switch on them. That doesn't make it okay. At all.

Times change. We learn new things. We change and evolve. So should the way we raise our kids. We aren't sending our daughters off to get married at 12 and 13. We don't reserve education for our sons alone. We have learned the brains of infants are much more malleable than we had ever believed possible. Science has proven that sustained physical punishment has caused brain damage. Yes, brain damage.

Don't believe me? Here's an example of what Dr. Laura Markham, a clinical psychologist specializing in relationship-based parenting, has to say about spanking.

"A 2012 study reviewed the previous two decades of research and confirmed that children who are spanked have less gray matter in their brains, and are more likely to exhibit depression, anxiety, drug use, and aggression as they get older. The only positive outcome that's ever been shown from corporal punishment is immediate compliance; however, corporal punishment is associated with less long-term compliance. Corporal punishment has repeatedly been linked with nine other negative outcomes, including increased rates of aggression, delinquency, mental health problems, and problems in relationships with their parents."

Read the whole article for yourself here. No, really. Read it. Even if you do believe me.

Think about it like this; childhood is preparing you for adulthood. If you're repeatedly being hit to gain your compliance, what are you likely to do to get others to comply with you & your desires? You just might try hitting them...

I was rarely spanked as a child but I was never really taught how to properly deal with my anger, anxiety or any negative emotions. I learned early on to bottle shit up and I can clearly remember having anxiety attacks as young as 7 and 8 years old. My mom didn't deal with "bad" feelings well and I followed in her footsteps but worse, even. 

My mom and I have only had a few physical confrontations but in my book, one is too many. I remember the first time she ever really hit me and the damage it did to our relationship. My dad was much more of a 'presence'. He hated spanking me; he came from a very abusive family and he felt that spanking was a slippery slope. 

I feel the same way. 

I have anger issues. I have had to learn in adulthood how to deal with my "bad" feelings in a positive, healthy way. It is hard. When I am stressed out, distracted, busy, I get angry faster than I normally would. I'm pregnant and hormonal and that makes it even worse right now. I'm a yeller and a "loud talker" and I can be scary. Straight up.

Moms are not supposed to be scary.

Moms are supposed to be soft and cuddly and occasionally tough but always filled with love, understanding and comfort. 

If I believed spanking was an acceptable form of parenting and punishment, I can see myself using it as an outlet for my anger. I said it and I mean it. I can see myself taking my anger out on my kids through spanking. 

And that scares the fucking shit out of me. 

It should. It's not right. It's horrible. The idea that I am so angry and incapable of dealing with that anger that I would resort to hitting my kids to get it out is disgusting to me and a very real problem for a lot of parents. 

We are here to teach these kids and we are obligated to do better for them than our parents did for us. It's the only way to keep getting better. It's the only way to grow as humans, emotionally & mentally. We are not the primitive cavemen we once were because we learned.  We learned to make tools, to farm & cultivate food. We evolved. We became smarter. 

Aren't we smart enough to see the damage we cause when we use our hands instead of our words? Our kids are smarter than we realize and they are more than capable of thought. They can understand right from wrong when it's explained to them. When they are shown there are consequences for every action, good and bad, they learn. They become capable of thinking for themselves and they make better choices because they see the benefits. 

I want my boys to grow up strong, confident and full of love and self-respect. I don't want them to question themselves or their worth because someone tells them they aren't good enough. I do not want them to be fearful of anyone, at any time. I want them to feel powerful enough to speak out when they see wrong in the world. I want them to stand up for themselves when people treat them badly. I want them to know that love is unconditional; I want to teach them they don't need to be someone else's idea of perfect to be loved, that being themselves is perfect enough. 

I choose to parent in ways that don't resort to physical or corporal punishment and I ask every parent out there to at least look at the other options available out there. It's about being the best parents we can be, right? Don't we owe it to our kids to change if changing is what's best for them? 

I think we do and I hope I'm not alone. Next Monday, April 30th, is Spank Out Day, USA. On this day, parents, guardians & caregivers are encouraged not to hit or spank & to seek out other forms of punishment. Programs are available nationwide; at churches, schools and other community outlets. Sometimes, they're even free or have low-cost options. You can find a link to the Spank Out Day, USA website here. 

For one day, give your hand, and your kids' butts, a rest. It's only one day. 

Here are a few more links to some articles, websites and books I find useful:
How to handle your anger at your child

Positive Parents

Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids

Parenting with Love & Logic

Digging out & Climbing up

I've told you guys about our struggle with finances and making ends meet while continuing to fund the business. Well, the truth is, the struggle has been a lot harder than I've admitted to.

In the last year, we've fallen way behind on rent. We've managed to keep ourselves from getting evicted but honestly, I'm not really sure how, besides having a really awesome property manager who has taken (and dodged) many bullets for us.

We were struggling to keep up with bills, usually paying them right before things got shut off or soon after. We went two months without gas; no hot water, no heat, no stove. We made do. We asked for help when things got really bad, for the boys' speech therapy, and we did get a little bit here & there but for the most part, we've been on our own. Which is fine; we made this mess so we get to deal with it.

This is why Jay has been working so hard, so often, and that is the only reason we've been able to stay afloat: Jay. The work he has managed to pick up in the last four months has literally saved us. We started paying rent again, plus a few hundred extra, but we still owed more than a few months' back-rent. We got the gas back on. We've managed to keep our phones on, our cars insured & gassed up; we've kept the business supplied and we've caught up with bills, one by one.

We've ignored our impending-pauper status for birthdays and Christmas, yes; maybe not the smartest thing ever but it helped keep us sane. Just recently, we bought a new Xbox 360, which is definitely not necessity but I say it was a justifiable purchase for under $50. One of those sanity-keepers, you see.

After all this time, stress, worry and fear, I can't even begin to explain how amazingly glorious it feels to be able to say --

WE ARE ALL CAUGHT UP. 

Thanks to our tax refund, we paid every penny of back-rent. Every. Single. Penny. We are CURRENT for the first time in I-can't-remember-how-long and we will be able to pay rent for March, ON TIME & IN FULL. I know Jay got a rush from handing our on-site manager a check for over $4200 and I know she was happy to give it to our PM.

I know our PM, Scott, was happy to get that check because he came by Friday morning to tell me so. He even asked for a hug and told me, we are now called "Mr. & Mrs. 42". He told me how much he appreciated it and that he knows how badly Jay needs a new truck. I told him that was a mistake we just couldn't make. We paid in full as much to get it paid off as we did to say 'Thank you' to him for dealing with us and not kicking us out.

We had money left over and paid more bills and rolled the rest over for next month. It feels so good to have bills paid and still have money in the bank. It feels like we are finally making it. Jay has six days this week booked up, with three rentals on top of his regular clients and he only has two open days left in February (excluding weekends). Our anniversary is at the end of the month too and while it's tempting to plan something "exotic" like a night away from the kids, in *gasp* a hotel, we won't. Maybe we'll get the night away from the kids but we'll stay home instead of going out, if we do. Much better to sit on the money we have than to rush out and send it.

Plus, there are still many things we have put off buying because we just didn't have the money; things like clothes and a doorknob for our bedroom. New sheets, picture frames and glasses; all those little household items you need but forget you need or put off getting because they aren't really necessary. CONTACTS, which I desperately need & are very necessary. Not to mention, car registration and all that noise.

Now we can finally get to some of that stuff. Who knows? Maybe we'll even be able to start saving for a wedding or, I don't know, our first home. You know, real grown-up stuff. For right now, I just want to bask in the awesomeness of being caught up, paid up and in the black. After an arduous, rocky, pitfall-filled climb, we've finally managed to get on top of our finances and I want to stay here for a long, long time.

Like, forever...

Pining for Portland

It's been almost three years since we moved down to Sacramento from Portland. Three long, hard years. We've moved twice since first coming down. Jay started the company and its been going and growing. We've settled in and gotten used to California living but in all honesty, I miss Portland. 

I miss the people.

I miss the rain.

I miss the city itself.

As soon as we found out we were pregnant again, I really started missing Portland. I realized right away that this pregnancy would be vastly different than my other two. I wouldn't be going to Legacy Emanuel. I wouldn't be dealing with the team of Certified Nurse Midwives that I had come to know so well during my pregnancies with Phoenix and Paxton. I might not even be able to find a CNM. The idea of having an OB/GYN freaks me out to no end. I wouldn't even be giving birth to another Oregonian; this baby will be a Californian, through and through.

We left for a reason though. Several, in fact. I had spent 26 years in that city. I'd gone to elementary, middle and high school there. It was all I really knew and at the time of the move, I was feeling suffocated. I needed to get out of there and I needed to experience life in another city, a new place. I needed to know I could survive and thrive anywhere.

I've come to grips with the fact that I was running away from life up there. I wanted to get away from my mom and moving has really helped our relationship. I appreciate her so much more & I think she appreciates me and the boys more too. I've had to admit that life here in California isn't all that different than life in Oregon.

We are still struggling, a little less than before but still struggling. I'm still alone with the boys most of every day. Jay and I still fight and the boys still have speech issues.

Yes, we live in a new city, a new state, but we still have a lot of our old problems. Moving doesn't fix much, if anything, and sometimes, it gives you more problems. I feel more isolated, more alone here than I ever did in Portland. I have made friends and I am truly grateful for them; they have helped keep me sane, especially in this last year. I've grown exponentially since coming down here and have really gotten a grip on my anxiety and panic attacks. I've learned how to get around and I've gained an insane amount of confidence in myself.

I'll admit I have regretted this move A LOT in the last few years; life here is not at all what I expected, what I was made to believe it would be. Yet I can't really be disappointed or angry. This has been an experience unlike any other I've ever put myself through. I made the choice to move here. I am at least partially responsible for the misery I am experiencing and I am the only one who can stop myself from being miserable.

We can't go back to Portland any time soon; we don't have the finances to do it and with the business down here, we can't really leave at all. As much as I miss Portland, as much as I need to go back, this is "home" for now. I need to make the most of it; I need to focus on all the good that has come from this move and I have to remember that things weren't prefect up there, either. No matter where we live, no matter what we do for work, life will always be life.

It will be hard; it will have challenges and hurdles to overcome.

There will be bright and shiny spots and moments of awesome happiness.

Life will go on and wherever you are, life will be what you make it.

The Tooth Fairy FAILS

You might remember seeing something on the Facebook page about Phoenix losing his first tooth a couple weeks ago. It was a huge day in our house as this was the first tooth EVER to find its way under a pillow and into the hands of the Tooth Fairy. Except, things didn't quite go quite as planned....

When I was a kid, I remember waking up after losing a tooth and excitedly flipping over my pillow, looking for the quarters, or dollar, if it was molar. Now, as a mom, I realize the straight-up ninja skills my mom must have utilized to get that tooth out and put that quarter or dollar in its place and I will admit here, to you guys ONLY, that I totally, completely and utterly FAILED my first time as the Tooth Fairy.

No, I didn't wake him up in the exchange.

No, I didn't lose the lost tooth.

No, I didn't leave him something lame like a penny or a toothbrush.

I FORGOT TO PUT ANYTHING THERE AT ALL. Plain old FORGOT.

In my own defense, if you come to our house anytime after dark, be it five minutes after sundown or 9:45 at night, chances are pretty good I will look like a member of the Living Dead and could very well be passed out on the couch. Honestly though, is there really any excuse for a blunder THIS BIG??

I covered it up really well when he came in to tell me the Tooth Fairy forgot about him, running down to the cupboard and snatching up the $2 bill I had saved for his first lost tooth. I found the little bag we'd put his tooth in still under his pillow and quickly shoved the bill in there, while taking the tooth out. I handed him the bag as I jumped back into my bed and told him to look again, maybe his money had been "hiding".

He wasn't impressed.

He was excited about his two dollars, though & thankfully, doesn't have any other loose teeth. The Tooth Fairy needs a break and a chance to regroup; another mess up like this and she is done for.

A leg-up, not a hand-out

This post has to be one of my most personal. This is about me and my family and the help we get to survive.

For the last two years, we have been receiving Food Stamps and since the launch of Healthy Families program, our ENTIRE family is insured, which gave Jay & I access to medical care for the first time in years.

Every three months, we are required to send proof of income to DHA so they can determine if we qualify for food benefits and to calculate how much we should be receiving each month for the next three months. Because Jay is self-employed, we have to report expenses; we can either use a standard expense deduction of 40% or we can use actual expenses and send in every single receipt for every single business related purchase. We choose the standard 40% because even though we do keep every single receipt ever, there's no way I want to trust myself to report and send copies of every single one of them.

When we first started getting food stamps, we got something close to $600 a month and as the business grew and we made more money, I honestly reported the differences in income. I knew, eventually, we'd make too much to qualify for anything but at that point, we should be able to feed ourselves without assistance. I've watched our monthly food stamp balance decrease this year to about $250 a month and I haven't complained. I haven't called my worker. I've simply sent in my paperwork, our bank statements and whatnot, and waited.

I've trusted that the benefits we receive are what we deserve and I've used them as wisely as possible. I've stretched that $250 as far as I can. I figured the way things were going, we'd lose all benefits soon so I've been trying to learn to live without them. Especially since they are gone, two weeks into each month. I greatly appreciate every penny we get since it means we can use the money we have to pay rent and bills and other shit that we desperately need.

So imagine my surprise when I get a call from my worker yesterday, telling me that there's a problem with my food stamps. At first, I kind of freaked. Did I forget to fill something out? Wait, I haven't sent anything in recently...Then she tells me SHE MESSED UP. Instead of using the standard 40%, she chose the ACTUAL EXPENSES option and since we haven't been reporting ANY EXPENSES, our food stamps were cut drastically. She apologized, sort of, and said the amount of benefits that was withheld would be credited to us today.

I checked our balance this morning: $547 and some change. It's the 17th and I ran out of food stamps last week. Do you have any idea what this means to me? After months of empty cupboards and a bare fridge, after months of making dinner out of nothing, after months of struggle to put food on the table, I am able to feed my family. ACTUALLY FEED THEM. I can afford to get snacks for Phoenix. I can finally get some meat in this house. AND FRESH PRODUCE.

The food stamps I get go straight into my kids' bellies. I don't ask for more than I need and I don't want more than I need. I've survived on so little because I felt grateful that I was even getting that. I am not unaccountable or personally irresponsible. I'm not depending on the government to provide for me or looking for hand-outs. I am helping to build a small business in one of the toughest economies ever and it's hard. I need a little help to make ends meet and I am so thankful to have any sort of help at all. This is part of the American Dream. The knowledge that when you are trying your hardest but not quite making it, someone will be there to give you a leg up, someone will be there to help you, for a little while at least.

Eventually, we won't need this help but right now, we do; we need it so badly. When that day comes though, I won't begrudge the next person who gets help feeding their babies. I won't be angry at the folks who need state-run insurance. I will understand. I will know that they are struggling too, trying to live their American Dream. We are not bears in the forest, becoming dependent on campers for food. We are human beings, fighting to live.

I am my blog.

Most of my posts on here relate to parenting or my personal struggles as a stay-at-home mom. I try to keep things light for the most part & really only delve into the heavier stuff when I feel I have to. I'm going to stop this. I need to be as real on here as I am in real life (that is the point, anyways) and I'm very honest about what happens in my life to the people in my life. If you read this, technically, you are a person in my life & you deserve the same honesty as everyone else.

This inability to really be honest is the main reason I haven't been blogging lately; I didn't really want to share all the turmoil and drama I was going through. I realize though, my blog is really a release for me. Yes, people read it. Yes, some of them are total strangers but it's still for me. No one else. I don't blog because people read what I write; people read what I write because I blogged it. They know that what they are reading is truth, it's my feelings, my experiences, my fears and goals.

One of the things I've avoided blogging about is our money trouble. When people hear you own a business, they assume you are rich from said business. WRONG. You actually need money to start a business; it is very expensive and often, you find yourself supporting your household AND your business on the profits from your business (like we are). If that's the case, things that run the household soon take a backseat to things that run the business because if there's no business, there's no house. Instead of paying utilities or rent, you have to buy supplies & gas to get to work to make the money to pay the utilities and rent.

Since the business is doing well & we're three-quarters of the way through our First Year, we feel confident the money coming in will keep coming in. It's just not enough to support us. What do we do? I like to think we're doing the smart thing; we're downgrading. Honestly, we don't need the third bedroom or the family room & paying $1200 a month in rent just isn't possible but with two little kids, an apartment seems more like jail cell to me. So I got brave. And responsible I guess. I called our property management and told them we need out, was there any way they had a place we could get into or could we get rent here lowered...surprise, surprise -- they have two-story townhouses not too far from where we are now.

Now, I started this post on the premise that I'm letting all the walls down; no prettying things up for you. If we didn't need to do this, I would never, ever move into a place like this. We drove by last night, after looking at the pictures and getting (uselessly) hopeful. The screams of unsupervised, ragged children hoodrats greeted us and my little bubble of hope burst. What did I expect? I don't know. The pictures looked so nice...but for $350 less a month, we get two bedrooms, 1 1/2 baths, two 'balconies', a small fenced patio and covered parking. The goal is to stay here a year, fix our credit & pay off our debts, save some money (lots of money) and move out; hopefully, we'll be able to buy a house when the year's over -- hopefully.

I'm still waiting to get approval from management; I'm hopeful because frankly, I have to be; if we had other options, this would be a wholly different post (if a post at all). I'll be sure to update when we do find out, in the mean time send us all the good energy you can. We need it!

Day 6 & 7 -- The Golden Years

Day 6 & 7 -- 

I won't normally combine two days into one post but yesterday was a hard day and today isn't much better. 

I've realized my out-of-control anxiety has been directly tied to something someone the last few weeks and I feel obligated to reflect on it here, since that's the point of this whole project.

  

It's beat up and stained. Worn out around the edges with a few pieces missing. It has wrinkles and creases. It looks like she loves me.

It's hard for me to look at this and think about the relationship I currently have with my mother. She looks so happy. She seems so normal. I don't know if she's changed or if she's just incapable of keeping up the facade of 'normalcy'. Like most kids, I saw the imperfections of my parents eventually but I've always been taught that flaws are part of us and we love people regardless of them. Right?

What if you just can't? What if the flaws have just gotten to be such a problem, they are effecting your life? Endangering your family? Does that make it okay to say "Leave me alone!" to one of your parents? 

I'm not just a daughter any more; now, I'm a mother above all else. Everything I do, I have to think of them first. It's because of that, I have to believe that I'm doing the right thing and everything will work out in the end. 

I hope you can understand.

I can't explain it to you. It's too complicated and asking me to do so is redundant. The parts I can explain, I have. Several times. At length. And yet you don't seem to really absorb what I'm saying. I understand it may be hard to hear but I do not say it to hurt you; I say it with love, in the hopes it can help you grow and be a happier person. I see so much unhappiness in your life clouded over with things that simulate happy feelings. I don't even think you understand what's wrong with you; I think you've blocked out so much trauma, you have no idea how to cope with the slightest downturn of events. You seem to go through the emotions you think are appropriate to a given situation without really feeling anything. You tell yourself you're happy but things that should truly bring you happiness don't seem to be of much interest to you. You love to hang out with me and the boys when you can takes us out to lunch or take us shopping but you don't have any interest in reading to Phoenix or playing with him.

You incriminate yourself with your words and your actions and you don't even see it. I didn't see it, at first. It took something as tragic as what happened to my baby for me to see how deep your flaws run and how incapable you are of seeing them; you fear if you see them, they'll break you apart. It took that and five years of wondering "What happened?". I have to have answers to give this child when he has questions to ask and I have to be able to tell myself that I did everything I could to keep him safe. 

I've given you all the time I've had on this Earth; I gave you five years with that boy and looking back, I don't think you deserved that. I need a break. I need time to think about my perspective. I need to clear my head and catch my breath. I left because I needed to get away. This is time for me. It's time for me to build my family. It's sad that you have to assume this is it & I will never speak to you again. It shows that you can't think about me, what I need. You only think about how much this is damaging you. I just need time. You need to do some thinking too and you know that. What do you want from me? I've said everything I have to say and I can't stomach the chit-chat anymore. It kills me. When you call me & send me text messages, I freak out. 

I don't answer because I know it will start a conversation. 

I do not want to converse with you right now. 

You can't understand the anxiety this causes in me. The conflict I feel when you say you don't understand, when you leave angry voice mails or say "One last time..." when we both know it won't be and I know you understand perfectly well what I'm asking for. I love you but you're tearing apart my world and you don't realize it. Please stop thinking about yourself and think about what I said before I sent you home after Christmas. I need time, I need answers and I need a mother who can be accountable, responsible, mature and objective. I need a grandmother for my boys who loves being a grandma and wants to spend time with her grandkids.

I don't need a sixty-two year old friend.