What Humble Did: Episode 3

Hello!

It is I, your friendly Humble, here to tell you all the totally important shenanigans that are going on in my life and on my page. 

What? 2 blog posts in 1 week!?

CRAZY.

Let us start with how my morning went.

Well, it really started last night so I will back track.

Last night I saw a pair of sweat pants in a hamper and since I didn't really feel like sleeping in my jeans, which by the way I do all of the time. It just makes the whole morning a lot smoother not having to figure out where I wandered to in my half awake half zombie state and decided to drop my pants and go to bed. I say "going to bed" but really, it is more like falling slowly from wherever I am standing, towards the direction of my bed. Sometimes if I am lucky I make it to the actual bed and no one has to find me asleep in the kitchen with my pants hanging off of my feet.

So I saw the pair of sweat pants and thought that wearing them was the best idea I ever had. I even thanked myself for washing them and leaving them clean in the hamper ready for me to accidentally find. 

"Go me!" I thought as I dozed off half way on the bed with my legs hanging off, waiting for imminent disaster to strike. Which it most often does, as soon as I put one foot in a sheet. Examples as of late, are sudden screaming disease, sudden my leg hurts disorder, sudden paranoia of what Jesus meant when he said he was coming back and should we get a dog to alert us of this zombie man coming into our house?

Which are all very real afflictions that my children have been diagnosed with.

Soon enough it is time to get up and get the kids up. 

Everything that can go wrong, does.

Kids delay eating their breakfast and are fighting.

Instead of putting the socks on that I gave him, Han stares at the wall until he asks me about how many grenades would it take to destroy our house.

Sprite is deciding that she doesn't like her shorts and is going to wear her pants, but not just any pants, it has to be the pants that  I haven't seen in 6 months.

She also can't find her shoes. 

Now I know what you are thinking, which is what I was thinking.

DISCIPLINE! ORDER! PREPARATION THE NIGHT BEFORE!

Well that is all super swell, but when you are trying to catch your baby before he takes a nose dive off the couch, so you can change his shitty diaper, feed him something and you still haven't peed or made coffee or anything. It is hard to get into that mode of "children assemble or ELSE" frankly, I am just going from one point to the next to get out of the gosh dang house on time. All this discipline shit is going to do in that moment is piss people off, make them refuse to go to school, etc. And I am definitely not in the mood for taking that fucked up detour.

So eventually we get in the van and are on our way.

About 3 blocks away I realize school has started 4 minutes ago.

I immediately get pissed.

And embarrassed. 

Why am I always late to everyfuckingthing!?!?

It is annoying to not only the folks that put up with me, but I hate it too. 

And so I start to pep talk myself out of my cry baby moment:

It's okay, they are not that late, it will be fine, I can just walk in the office and be all nonchalant and "good morning!" and they will just see that I am totally competent and that even though they have been late at least 6 times this year, it is because they are punk kids that can't get their shit together, and it is I, their beautiful mother who is leading by example and someday these kids WILL have their shit together because I am such a role model for that sort of thing.

I am like Mother Theresa to these children, I swear.

~Wait.....walk in the office?

I AM STILL WEARING THE SWEAT PANTS!

It's okay, I say, no one will see me. My children are so beautiful and popular that when I get out of the car anyone who sees us will have all their focus on them and think "Look at those great kids, I totally notice nothing in the world right now but them"

So we get out of the van.

2 other little girls are late and getting out of their car.

Their mother waves bye to them and they walk to the office.

Whoa whoa, what the hell? I have to walk up and go into the office and this broad just waves and leaves? I have tried the same thing and get a call from the office as soon as I leave the parking lot!

Then I see the principal coming out of the office door, surely, he will tell their mother something, I seek justice and also validation that I am clearly the parent who knows the rules.

He waves to her and says "Better late than never! Have a great day!"

You are joking me.

Then he turns and he sees me, and averts his gaze, saying nothing.

What are these sweat pants giving you a boner!?

I totally looked like this, but the complete opposite.

It's like I am in High School and have a zit that no one could probably see and I am responding to everyone with "what the hell do you want, it's a zit alright?! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE"

So I go in the office, tell the office ladies that we are approximately 6 minutes late, and they give the kids their late passes and I exit the building as quickly as possible.
As I am walking to the van another parent, walking along the same sidewalk says "Had a late morning?" and there was something in his voice....a little too "I just shit money and this day is AWESOME!"  and I respond with "No I just like looking like this and being late, DUH"
And I got in my van before I could even hear his response. You know, as I was sitting there, I felt kind of bad. Like, maybe sweat pants aren't that big of a deal, you know?

And then I realized the period stain in the crotch.

And that is why I am sleeping in my jeans for the rest of my life.


End Scene.

Want to vote for my son as Preemie of the Year and maybe possibly hopefully win tickets to

                                                                   DISNEYLAND!?

You can vote for him daily until Nov 2nd by clicking HERE

Also my brother Danie's donation fund is still happening!!

You can find out more about the fund to fix Danie's teeth by clicking HERE

Any amount helps!

And in case you missed it, because Facebook is Facebook, I posted the 2nd part to my compassion series yesterday, you can find read  both Part 1 and Part 2 by clicking the links.

Want to stalker me?

 check out my Pinterest

my Twitter

my Instagram username: humblevader

and of course my Facebook Page

xoxo

Part 2 Humble and Compassionate: Love the one you're with

This is part 2 of the Humble and Compassionate Series
to read Part 1 click here

Since the last post in the series I have done a lot of thinking and a lot of googling researching about compassion, ego, and how to live more compassionately. It is not often that I have time to sit and really get to the bottom of how I feel about things I have read, how I relate them to my own life, and basically, figure out who I am. It is mostly done on drives to the store, sitting at the laundry mat, and in the shower. These precious moments that I have to reflect on my life, who I am, where I am going, are my brain savers. I would say "life saver" but seriously, I would keep living even if I didn't have the time to sit and think. But my brain would be pissed. I can't be me and who I want to be, if my brain is pissed. That is a fact. And my children, family, friends, and dare I say, THE WORLD, needs me to be me. As much as everyone needs you to be you.

I am not going to sit here and pretend that I know everything about everything, in fact, I am the first to admit that I don't. When I was in school I was the kid that raised their hand constantly to clarify something that was read, to say "hey I don't get this" and to admit that I really wasn't paying attention. Most teachers never liked me because I slowed them down. A few appreciated my honesty and valued my work when I could remember to turn things in.
The point of this disclaimer paragraph is to keep in mind that I KNOW I do not know everything. Check the name badge, essay.

Compassion is well, a passion of mine. It is the one thing of the few things I can do that doesn't cost money and since I am usually broke, it is a way that I can keep my ass in check without doing much of anything. No exercise videos, hair dye, copious amounts of sunscreen, and nice bed sheets, can do more for you, than what compassion does. True story. While I was sitting and thinkin about compassion and kindness, I realized that the root of being compassionate starts with me. Let's turn that around. The root of being compassionate, starts with you.

It starts with you and how you feel about you. Enter Dr. Seuss.
It starts with how compassionate you are to yourself. Yep..:::shines nails on collar:::

 Imagine a snotty bitch who hates herself and is jealous, with low self esteem, who never feels deserving of all that she has, smart enough, pretty enough, funny enough, and who often compares herself to others, and sometimes in a not nice way. That's me.
Now imagine, a likeable person, who tries to see the good in everyone, appreciates all she has and knows she is special, just as much as everyone else. She knows she is not perfect, but she is adequate. And she is happy. That's me too.

The Snotty Bitch and the Humble, duke it out every once in awhile. And so far, Humble has always been the victor. But that doesn't mean Snotty Bitch doesn't put me in a choke hold every so often. Most often it is a moment. Sometimes it is a whole after noon. But it is almost always a daily slap in the face from Snotty Bitch. Since I am an expert on my own personal mental illness hell (not your mental illness...just mine) I have learned some things about myself and how I operate and how I can stop Snotty Bitch from stealing all of my thoughts.

The biggest thing I have learned is what I call "The Big House Syndrome"
See, I live in a little house with a lot of people. Sometimes it really sucks because we are in each other's face all the dang time. There isn't enough room for storage. There is not a lot of places to go for privacy or personal time. And I sometimes wish I had a bigger house. The problem is, I can not afford to move. The area I live in is exactly where I want to be, and I pay really cheap rent in comparison to the actual housing costs in my area. Now when I go to other people's houses, I sometimes have a twinge of jealousy.
I wish I had a 3rd bedroom. These people have NO idea how lucky they are. Half of my life's problems would be solved if I had a house like this. In fact if I had a house like this, I could probably shit out another kid or two, THERE IS SO MUCH ROOM IN HERE!
But here is the thing, I said that about houses like the one I live in, when I was living in a 2 bedroom apartment.
I said the same thing about people's 2 bedroom apartment, when I was living in one room with 4 people.
So really, I just have accepted that it is not "my time" to have a big ass house, or a medium ass house, and that even if I did have a big house, once I got there, I would still be jealous of people who had bigger houses than mine. Enter Big House Syndrome. So I should just accept it and not pay any more attention to it, because Snotty Bitch will come along and soon be telling me that I don't have a big house because I am a loser. And I am not about to even start with her bitch ass.

Big House Syndrome happens not with just big houses, sadly, it can be a comparison of anything you wish you had vs. what you actually have. It can start off as a slight twinge of envy, and soon fuel your self criticism. It often takes no time at all for my observation of someone who  has something I admire, for me to turn it into feeling ugly about myself and not appreciating the things I do have. Self Compassion is hard work. Letting go of my ego? Even harder.

I am not my house. My house is just where I keep the shit I own. My home is not my house, my home resides in the people I love the most.
I am not my body, in fact, a body is just a vessel for living. No big deal. How I look can either be changed with a lot of working out, or plastic surgery. How I feel about my body and how I talk to myself when I get out of the shower, those can't be altered by anyone but me. Guess which path is easier?
My children are not me. They are their own person and I am their guide. I won't berate myself for  the mistakes they make. I won't feel like a shitty parent when they mess up or struggle.
The things I own and don't own, are not me.
The bad choices I have made, are not me.
The people in my life, are not me. They are their own person, their own journey and their own vessel. They make mistakes, they make me happy, they are all deserving of being loved, just as much as I am.

Getting to the root of compassion starts with you because if you are not compassionate and forgiving to yourself, how in the hell do you expect to give that to anyone else?
I know, I know, easier said than done, right?
Well guess what? It is never done.
That's why the Dalai Lama is still the Dalai Lama and not some guy who was like "well looks like my work is done here, time to get some real clothes and be on my merry way!"
It is something I think everyone has to work on. Be a little nicer to yourself. Be more appreciative of things you have, and who you are. The more respect you have for yourself, the more you can give to the people you love, and dare I say, THE WORLD.
And giving love, showing kindness, and making a positive impression while you are here on Earth, isn't that what it's all about?

"You must love yourself, before you love another. By accepting yourself and fully being what you are, your simple presence can make others happy"
~Author Unknown

Humble and Compassionate: Part 1 Amanda Todd

When I first heard of Amanda Todd, I already knew she had committed suicide.
I knew she was a month away from her 16th birthday and that she left behind grief stricken parents. I watched the video she posted on  Youtube (Amanda Todd's Video)
a month before she took her own life. I saw a young girl. Obviously feeling vulnerable, hiding behind words, that are often misspelled, and I learned of her story.

In the aftermath of Amanda Todd's recent suicide, pages that pay tribute to the young girl, in hopes of spreading awareness of cyber bullying, mental illness, and to give hope to young people who are experiencing the same things, that they are not alone have turned into a nightmare.

These are the comments I have read (these are real and I have read these not on just the memorial pages but elsewhere):

"Where were her parents?"
"Why didn't she get off the Internet?"
"Dumb bitch no one cares"
"This girl was just a bratty teenager"
"Why didn't her parents just homeschool her?"
"She is going to hell, no one cares"
"I don't feel sorry at all for people who kill themselves, why are we even paying attention to her"
"She made a few mistakes but I have been bullied too and you don't see me killing myself. Stupid fuck"
"WHERE WERE HER PARENTS?!"
"What did she think was going to happen if she was being a slut?"

It goes on and on.

I posted these insane comments word for word because I want you to be upset.
Maybe by chance you actually agree with some of the comments.

But I am going to let you in on a secret.
She is dead.
No piece of advice will help her parents.
Homeschooling is not an option for her.
She can no longer be monitored online, or medicated.
And it really, ahem, doesn't matter what you think about her situation.
Because her situation is over.
Done. Gone. Over.

Now I am going to pause for a moment. Give you something to think on.

Are you as critical of other people's choices as you are of your own?
Are you as critical of other people's parenting, as you are about yours?

Think about that for a moment.

The response that I have read from other people is basically they are trying to find someone to blame and it sure as shit is NOT going to be them.

THEIR child is not going to make mistakes.
THEIR child would never be a victim of exploitation, stalking, child pornography, molestation, bullying, mental illness, low self esteem, and if they were THEY would know exactly what to do to resolve the situation. I mean fuck, protecting our kids from predators online and off is super easy! That's why nothing bad happens ever to anyone's kids, I mean it does, but like, every once in awhile, and it is the parents fault for not being more vigilant and not knowing exactly who, what, and where their kids are and what they are doing 100 percent of the day.
Besides kids are kids and you were bullied and you turned out just fine! You did, didn't you?

I want you to think about these things. Take a good hard look at yourself, unless you are perfect in which case, jog the fuck on because we no longer have anything in common, and don't think what you would do in someones shoes. Don't think how you would resolve other people's problems. Because it really doesn't matter. It is not you. Those other people's problems? Not yours. Amanda Todd? Not your daughter.

But those could be your problems.
Amanda Todd could be your child.

Any. Day.

We should be angry about the response to Amanda Todd's death as much as be horrified for the reasons for it. Because those reasons still exist. They are not going to fade away. Mental illness, bullying, child exploitation, and general lack of compassion, still exists.

Amanda is gone. You can say "who cares?" all you want. It really doesn't matter what you say about it, or what I say about it. She was not my child. And she is dead.
Her mother is out there, right now, as you are reading this, waiting for the courage to watch Amanda's video that Amanda had sent her before she took her life at 15 years old.

And it is for that reason that I started this new series. In the following weeks I will be posting  every Tuesday a series on compassion, how to be more compassionate, stories of compassion and I will also post tips on how to recognize bullying, how to go about resolving it and how to recognize the signs of mental illness and how you can help yourself, your child or anyone else who is having a hard time.

Now you might be asking yourself why Humble? Why has this affected you so much?

Because my daughter is almost 12. And I have 4 other kids that will one day, be teenagers and then adults. I need the information just as much as anyone else. Because I am a parent who isn't perfect. I do not have perfect children. I do not live in a perfect world where nothing bad ever happens to kids. I am just a mom, who wants what is best for her kids. I am not about to accept Amanda Todd as a lost cause, a missed opportunity, a failed attempt at life. Because in all honesty, the cause for compassion is still there, even if she is gone.

Happy Boobtober!

Whether you own a pair or not, breasts, boobs, titties, knockers, hooters, jugs, whatever you prefer to call em, are a hot topic in the month of October.
Breast Cancer Awareness posts are popping up all over the place on social networking sites and most have to do with the color pink, some catchy slogan, or just a meme that says "Breast Cancer Awareness Month" or the like.
Some people are even starting to post things like a secret women's code in their status that will somehow in a secret code type of way, make people more aware of breast cancer.

"On the floor"
"By the couch"
"red with a bow"
"8 inches 30 minutes"

is a Facebooker's way of saying "Let's be aware of breast cancer"
Really?
REALLY!

Now first I must apologize to the people who have messaged me and the 83 other women on their friends list for the directions on how to make other people scratch their heads and say "huh?" to my status of "On the kitchen table" because THEY were not in the know of the secret code that makes people more aware of breast cancer. The status FYI is the response to "where is your purse?" (Sorry ladies....I am a snitch) and if YOU were one of the people that also got forwarded the message, then all of your other friends that were in the know can look at your status and say "Oh look, another friend of mine is promoting awareness to breast cancer in our secret women's Facebook code"

Can I ask a question?
Is posting a meme or a code enough?


My point is it is not enough to be aware or talk in secret codes. Saying "Think Pink Breast Cancer Month!" is not really doing anything more than saying "Breast Cancer Exists"
Can we all just fucking agree that it exists and head to the next stage?!

Here I will go first.

The first thing I think about when I think of breast cancer is my Grandma. She is a survivor and was the first person (and hopefully the last) to have breast cancer in my family. I never really checked my breasts much before she got diagnosed. I had heard that since I didn't have a family history, I would probably be off the hook. It never occurred to me before then that anyone in my family at ANY time, could have breast cancer. And if we weren't all checking our boobs and going to the doctor's frequently, it could be undetected and then the rest of the family is just walking around thinking "Oh I don't need to worry, it doesn't run in my family" When in fact, it is not a matter if no one in your family has it, YOU could be the first one. Thankfully, my grandma found the lump in her breast quickly because she does self breast exams, and I thank my stars every day that she does, because I don't even want to think what could have happened to her if she didn't and found out too late.

Which is why I am sharing with you the following links that can help you, your family, your friends, do more than say "Think Pink!" Also, I chose these websites really carefully, and felt that they all have the best info, presented clearly, and with accuracy. If you find another website that you have found helpful, please link it in the comments!

For women:

How to do a Self Breast Exam! 

For men:

How to give yourself a Male Breast Exam!

What are you feeling for?

To Enlarge Click Here

Now that you know how to give yourself a self breast exam and know what the heck you are feeling for, it is good to know your risk factors and how likely you are to get breast cancer. Keep in mind that although some women may have a lot of risk factors, they may never get breast cancer. While women who have a very low risk, could still get it. That is why it is SO important no matter how old you are, healthy you are, and if no one in your family has it, that you still perform a self breast exam EVERY month. I personally have  taught my daughter how to do it, that way, as she grows, she is more familiar with what her normal breasts feel like, and to start the routine of self breast exams while she is young, that way it becomes a habit as she gets older.

Complete List of Risk Factors

Now what happens if you should find something during your self breast exam?
Go to the doctor to check it out of course!
What happens if you don't have insurance?
Well, the first thing you can do is Google and see if there are any free breast cancer screenings in your area. You can also go to:

CDC National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program

to see if you qualify for a low/no cost Mammogram

and also

Planned Parenthood

for ALL of your women's health needs at low/no cost.

Now that you know how to help yourself, what can you do for others?
Well first, you can bookmark this post for future reference, you can also share this post with your friends and family, so that everyone becomes more aware AND educated in how to identify breast cancer, their risk factors, and where to go should they detect something.

You can also support Breast Cancer research!

BEFORE you buy one pink ribbon related item and BEFORE you donate to breast cancer research/awareness, check out this info to help you decide if the company, donation, item you are buying, is actually using your money towards what you "think" it is.

Think Before You Pink

And lastly, but not least, here is a link that gives tips on how to help a loved one who was diagnosed.

10 Ways to Help a Friend With Cancer

Here are some more websites that are personally near and dear to my heart, that celebrate the strength, the love, and the hope that are shown in the brutal reality of this savage beast.

My Wife's Fight With Breast Cancer

and

The Scar Project

Please share this post, you never know the life you could save.

Much love to you Humblers!
Now go check your rack!
xoxo

Sing Me Soft Kitty

It's late.

I am lonely.

I am in a house full of 6 other people, a lizard, many fish, and two frogs...and yet I am lonely.

I am in lonely lonerdom of loney woney emotions. When everything ends in "y" you know it has reached a new level of pathetic(y).

I have a reason for this odd behavior. And first I have to accept that this is truthfully a characteristic of mine. I best own up to the fact that when shit hits the fan, I usually bounce back. But when shit takes a proverbial double shit on my heart....not so much.

I become grouchy. I snap. I well up with tears for snapping. I retort with "I can't change the scent of the all purpose spray! I missed that class at Hogwarts! DO YOU NEED ME TO SEW YOU SOME NOSE PLUGS!?" when someone says "Hey, I really don't like the way that spray smells." Or, "Did everyone have a good day...HELLO? I said did everyone have a good day? You know what, just forget it. Eat your dang dinner."

And then I watch the clock. Moping, counting, going through the motions of getting everyone clean, nightly rituals done, chores and such, until the time finally comes where I can tell someone everything I am feeling. I have tried to say these things out loud once today, but it was premature, I started sob hiccuping before I could say anything more than a condensed version of the situation.

My boy is having problems in school.

Not to go too much into detail because frankly, it is late, details are irrelevant and I probably wouldn't be able to tell you exactly what the problems are anyways because when the teacher met with me and started with "Let's go over the interventions we are going to be doing" I kind of just locked up with my mouth clenched, trying to stop the whimpers that wanted to turn into sobs. I sat there with my mouth shut, trying to stay calm, keep my composure and do whatever body language positions that I have mastered from watching cop TV shows, that exude "yes, I am totally listening to everything you are saying and I was totally prepared for this talk and am super excited for all these strategic interventions."

While she was yammering on about how his school day will be different now, he will get pulled out of class for this, he will go to another reading group for first graders, even though he is in the 2nd, and how he will miss P.E. for a few weeks so he can go to some other program for "kids like him...kids who are behind"... I was just wondering if my son knew he was not "getting it" or if he felt overwhelmed with everything they were asking of him, and did he feel dumb or that he couldn't do it? Did he know that he just needs extra help and everything would be okay? Did he know?

I came out of the meeting with tears in my eyes. Although I am hopeful that Han will catch up, and that worse things have happened to other parents today, it just doesn't make me feel better about the moment I am living in right now.

And all afternoon I felt it. The creeping stomach ache. The words repeating in my head. Intervention. No P.E. Work with him on this sheet. Check for this. Do that. He needs to read more, encourage him to read all of the time.

Ugh.

When I am in the constant day to day routine with 5 kids, it is really difficult to focus all my attention on one child. One on one time comes in short bursts. Sometimes I have to make a point to sit down and talk with a child if it has been a day or more since the last talk.
But when there is a problem, everything and everyone fades. Appointments collected in my head are forgotten, responses to emails have less importance, and all the things I have been meaning to do, fade. Until all that's left is the child. It is a delicate act, constantly rotating which kid needs the most attention, but it is one that just happens when you have a big family. I am learning as I go.

Tomorrow will be better. I will  be able to handle it better. I will wake up and feel less lonely and pathetic because I will start to believe this very thing has happened to many other moms and dads. That he is not the first boy in the history of time to have to get extra help, even though this is new to me, the interventions and programs have been put into place because many other children needed them before his time. I will brainstorm ways to help him at home and remind him that he is a wonderful and bright boy. I will thank my lucky stars that he is healthy, happy, and mine.

 But for right now, let me cry.
 This shit is sucky.