Domestic Violence in Your Community: Remembering Chris Keith

Recently, my community and the blogging community suffered the loss of a person I never even knew before she was gone. She wrote a blog "Confessions of a Thrifty Mama on a City 'Stead," homeschooled her children, went to church, and by all accounts was an amazing person who did her best to live sustainably and ecologically in tune with her family and her community.  As we seem to have friends in common, I am sorry I never got the chance to know her and now never will.  She was Chris Keith, a devoted mother, who was doing the best she could for her children and was struggling to divorce the father of her three youngest children and was killed by him Dec. 4.  (He also killed himself and Chris' eldest son, Isaac Miller, who was just 14, that night.)

Because I did not know her, I cannot speak to her specific story and what the details were of her life, but I feel compelled to share the facts of her death (and life) with you for two very specific reasons.  The first is to break some of the silence and isolation that empowers domestic violence to continue.    Our contributing author Amy has written bravely of her own story to that end and I want to share her story as well here.  It is not easy to leave and both Amy and Chris deserve recognition for their bravery in fighting to get out of their situations.  I'm not sure anyone knows the details of what Chris was going through this year as she left her husband, but the one silver lining to this tragedy is that while two innocent souls were tragically lost last week, the lives of her three youngest children (who were thankfully not home that night and were spending time with their grandparents who are now going to raise them) were quite possibly saved by her courageous decision to leave their clearly mentally unstable father.  While these children have been both orphaned and have suffered the loss of their elder brother in a single horrific incident, they are still very much alive and will keep the legacy of their mother's bravery and devotion with them.

This leads me to the second reason for me to share this story, the church where she used to attend has created a memorial fund for her and Isaac in order to benefit the three young children who have been left behind.  Obviously, their grandparents who are now planning to raise them, had no idea that they would be taking them in and need funds to fix their van, make their house work for three young children, and generally care for their grandchildren.  If you have not already allocated your charitable funds this holiday season, please consider giving to them.  The link is here.  It is not tax deductible because it is not going to the church or to a non-profit domestic violence charity (although both of those causes would probably benefit from some patronage as well), but to the family directly so that they can deal with the practicalities of surviving the loss of this brave, powerful woman and her son.

Also, if you know someone who is in a relationship that you suspect is abusive, please talk to them privately about it and offer your support (it may take several offers before she feels safe enough to confide in you).  This is the first step to helping her.  Here is a link to the national domestic violence hotline for more specific information and help with planning an exodus safely.  As Chris' story illustrates tragically, it is a life and death situation.

Thanks for reading,
Shawna

24 Hours of Crazy

I was inspired by Valerie's post on 24 hours at her house, and decided to do it, too. I did it both for writing purposes and because I thought it would be a nice way to document this time in our lives.

Like Valerie, I picked a day (Tuesday of this week) and stuck with it, and let me tell you, the day turned out to be a doozy! Ok, here we go!

6:15 am -- I get out of bed to try and try to coax my ten month old daughter back to sleep. She's been up twice already. My husband has been trying to get her settled but needs to start getting ready for work. I wrap her up, lay her on her belly, and softly pat her back, and within a couple of minutes her even, deep breathing tells me she's out for the count. I run back to bed and try to snooze for the next ten minutes. Instead, my mind races with thoughts of said ten month old's first birthday party.

6:30 am -- Up and at 'em. I'm really tired. I make my bed while my husband and I discuss reasons not to have any more children (not sleeping through the night is at the top of the list). I take a shower.

6:46 am -- I gulp down coffee while browsing Facebook on my iPad. I try not to get agitated over various online dribble.

6:55 am -- I have to get dressed.

7:01 am -- My stomach hurts. Too much caffeine and aspirin. Taking so much migraine medication inhibits my stomach's processing of acid, making it build up and cause great pain. Must make smoothie before school so that my stomach is not empty.

7:03 am -- Kids are up. Well, Sofia is, anyway. She's scared of the hissing of the heater in her room so she's anxious to get out of bed. I look at Alex and he just buries his head under his blankets.

7:11 am -- Sofia makes her case for a treat after breakfast. She's unbelievably cute and endearing, until she hears no, and then she turns into a screaming banshee. Thankfully the baby sleeps through the ruckus.

7:26 am -- Request that kids get dressed. Alex obliges, Sofia protests very loudly, finally managing to wake Victoria. My husband changes her diaper before he leaves for work.

7:36 am -- Time for my husband to go. I cling to his leg and beg him not to leave me alone with the savages. He must go and I bay at the window as he walks away from the house. Sigh.

7:42 am -- I fix Sofia's hair with a style I found on Pinterest. She looks so adorable that I almost forget her morning screaming.

7:47 am -- I dry my hair while Alex brushes his teeth. He has been very reasonable this morning. He finishes and then calls Sofia in to brush. I love my big kid.

7:50 am -- I catch Victoria's fingers under the toilet seat lid. She screams. At the same time I battle and plead with Sofia to brush her teeth. I'm not going to have time to make the smoothie. I'm getting stressed.

7:55 am -- I make the smoothie after all! The kids are fascinated, with the older two asking me lots of questions about the ingredients (banana, strawberries, honey, cinnamon, and yogurt).

8:01 am -- Oh my lord, we are ready too early! (As I realize later, the relatively smooth morning was a bad sign of things to come. Haha.) I take the time to give extra hugs, and Alex tells me a story about how someone in his class ripped one of his books.

8:08 am -- On our way to school, Alex helps Sofia put something in her coat pocket, and we all hold hands all the way down the block. I have a moment of pure happiness.

8:17 am -- I helicopter parent Sofia through a small conflict with a classmate while waiting for the Pre-K teacher. As soon as I step away, they resolve it on their own.

8:20 am -- Arrive at PTA office. There's lots to do and discuss. I do some computer clean-up.

10:45 am -- As Sofia comes out at dismissal her teacher says she needs to talk to me. Uh oh. I question Sofia but she seems happy enough, so I try not to worry.

10:55 am -- I listen while the Pre-K teacher describes a minor playground incident. I strongly dislike her approach and I proceed to become irate and remind the teacher that the kids are only four and will make mistakes. I question Sofia once again but all I get are inane mumblings. I am rude to the teacher and yank Sofia out of the building.

11:05 am -- I make it about half way down the block before turning around, going back to the school, and asking to speak to the Assistant Principal. I am furious and complain about Sofia's teacher. The Assistant Principal graciously listens and assures me she will take care of it.

11:17 am -- I find alternate side of the street parking quickly, and I call my husband and yell endlessly about school incident.

12:06 pm -- At home, I feel bad about being rude to Sofia's teacher. She's a nice woman, she means well. I worry neurotically about possible consequences.

12:45 pm -- Sofia is down for her nap and I settle in to nurse Victoria. She is playful and at first I resist, anxious to get her to sleep, but I finally give in to her antics and I begin to feel better. I finally put her down around 1:30.

2:24 pm -- I want a latte. I break out our DeLonghi.

2:26 pm -- I briefly consider running for a position with the Education Council of my school district. Temporary insanity ends and I bookmark it for next year.

2:36 pm -- Victoria is up and inconsolable. I hold her for a bit but it's time to wake up Sofia so I can get her dance outfit on and pick up Alex from school, so I have to put Victoria down. She crawls after me screaming at the top of her lungs.

2:55 pm -- We are running late and Sofia refuses to do anything but stand and cry. She tries to put on her dance tights but they are inside out, and she also has to go to the bathroom. I pull her tights off, run her to the bathroom and put her on the potty, while Victoria follows, crawling and crying. I finally get Sofia dressed, Victoria into her winter suit, and I load myself up like a donkey.

3:02 pm -- I am going down the outside stairs of my house, wearing the baby, carrying a diaper bag and one other bag, and holding the stroller. Sofia is behind me. I'm rushing and don't look where I'm going, and I completely miss the last three steps. I twist my ankle and fall down on my butt. Hard. I can't get up. I'm in complete blinding pain and I'm afraid my ankle is broken. I think about Alex waiting for me in the school courtyard. Sofia panics and begins to cry. $!&@$!#%*"!!!!! Thankfully, Victoria is still snug in her Pikkolo and completely unaware that anything is happening. Moment of happiness--not quite.

3:15 pm -- I've managed to get up, strap Sofia into the stroller, and make it to get Alex on time. My foot is numb at first and then begins to get hot and tingly. We are already outside so I decide to go ahead and walk the 20 blocks to Sofia's dance class. I stop at CVS for a heated pad and an ACE bandage.

3:57 pm -- While Sofia twirls in the next room, I regale friends at dance class with colorful stories of the day's events. Victoria practices her new walking skills. She eats tiny pieces of popcorn off the floor before I can limp over to her to take them. I try with futility to get Alex to sit and do his homework--he just wants to play with the other older siblings of the little dancers.

4:45 pm -- My husband walks in and he is a sight for sore eyes. I show him my now horribly swollen ankle and garner some sympathy. He's left work early and has brought the car to drive us home. While he snuggles Victoria I have a chance to sit with Alex and talk about his day in detail. We hug and I feel happy.

5:33 pm -- We are home and I am resting my very painful ankle. I sit with my iPad and decide that I want to run for the Education Council after all. I complete the application while chaos ensues all around me--Victoria is tugging at my leg looking to nurse, Alex and Sofia are fighting endlessly. The fact that I can't freely get up and do stuff is maddening. Crap, we still need to eat dinner.

6:37 pm -- My mom is over for a visit and I hobble around the kitchen trying to get dinner together. Various children are underfoot, making me anxious. I worry about tripping over someone and hurting myself further. I blame my helpful husband for anything I can think of. Sigh.

7:48 pm -- Dinner is an hour late but we are all eating. Alex scarfs down his spaghetti and one whole meatball (actually made from cannellini beans). Sofia pokes, stirs, mashes, and then declares she's not happy with the meal. We invoke the five bite rule and she's done.

8:48 pm -- My mom reads a book to Sofia while Alex reads his school library book and I nurse Victoria on the couch. Another good moment to cherish.

9:00 pm -- Kids are in bed, 45 minutes late. Damn my stupid sprained ankle.

9:30 pm -- I'm nursing Victoria but I can't get comfortable. Our new sofa is hard and it hurts my butt. I finally give in and lay down, and fall asleep nursing.

12:55 am -- My husband helps me get to bed. I can't put any weight on my ankle. Everything gets dark and my ears start ringing really loudly and I feel like I'm going to pass out. I make it to the bed where I lay feeling cold and clammy.

3:23 am -- Victoria is up to nurse. She goes back to sleep without much fuss and I am grateful.

5:05 am -- Victoria is up again. I'm hoping my husband can settle her but her cries pierce through the early morning silence and he brings her over to nurse. She is cute and cuddly and we sleep side by side for the rest of the morning. Another good moment.

6:15 am -- I have hardly slept because of the pain from my damn ankle. My husband is spending the day working from home and he will take the kids in to school. Thank goodness, because when I try to get up I feel like I am going to pass out again. Boy, what a 24 hours it has been!

***

My ankle is painful, bruised and swollen, but hopefully just a bad sprain. I hope I can hobble my kids over to school for the next few days.

That's Life with a Toddler.

Sometimes I get things done way early. Most of my posts here at Connected Mom are queued up and ready to go not long after I post the last one. Honestly I'm a procrastinator, so I try to get it done the moment I get an idea for a post, while those creative juices are flowing... because otherwise its too easy to let anything else in life take preeminence, then suddenly its Monday at noon and I'm staring at a blinking cursor line with no words coming.

I'm a little behind right now, squeaking this one in just under the line. Life, gets in the way of the perfect plan we have. Balance is hard to come by, and when you are thrown off your game, it can take a number of good days to feel back "on."

Two and a half, almost three, year olds can get in the way of great plans too. Gwen is fun and loving, funny and silly, cute and crazy. She's also a handful, full into the stage of boundary testing, button pushing, and "I do it myself." Normal, age-appropriate, completely and utterly frustrating.


So here are some tips I've shared before, but are worth sharing again... even if only because I could use the reminder! These are what I use to try and have more of the calm days and less of the frustrated ones, to take what "gets in the way" and turn it into "what makes our day different and fun."

1) Age realistic expectations. At 33 months, she is only emotionally able to handle so much. She's still learning what appropriate reactions are and how her actions cause reactions. And you learn by trial and error. So, respond kindly, and move on.

2) Expectations that match with what I want for Gwen in the future. A friend once told me about a very trying morning with her spirited, energetic, intelligent daughter. She delivered her to daycare and asked the teacher, "How do I raise a daughter who is strong, determined, independent, comfortable with her feelings and voices her opinions, but who also listens and always does what I ask her to?!" The answer, of course, is that you don't! But a few tiffs now, as we figure all this out together, is well worth it to foster the independence and determination that will serve her so well in the future.

3) Name the emotion, for both of our sakes! When Gwen is frustrated or sad, I say as much... "I see you are frustrated/mad/upset because of xyz..." I do it to help her figure out her emotions, but I do it to remind myself of them as well. Do I love crying because she wants something she can't have? Nope. But I do know what its like to be overly tired after a long day and have something be extremely frustrating and almost too much to bare. Naming her emotion helps me put myself in her shoes.

4) Evaluate if I really need to distract/dissuade/say no. Gentle/AP parenting is not (contrary to what some media might have you believe) permissive parenting in the negative sense. But at the suggestion of a smart mama, I started looking at the why I didn't want Gwen to do certain things. Is it because of a safety reason? Then stay the course! Is it because it will be a little messy and I don't want to clean up? Hmm, there are times this is valid, but many when its not a great reason.

5) Teach respect by modeling respect. Gwen is an equal member of this family. Yes, her dad and I have the life experience, and as her parents we will ask her to defer to our judgement many a time. However she deserves our respect as fully as we deserve hers. So we listen when she talks, we say excuse me and thank you and please, and we try to give our reasons/explain our actions when we do need her to defer to us. "Because I said so," or "because I'm the mom," are not explanations, and in the long run they don't help her understand that the "no" she just heard isn't a no just for that exact moment, but is a request not to repeat a particular action.


Its so easy to get overwhelmed when life gets hectic, there are deadlines to meet, and this little person just doesn't seem to want to play independently even though they do it at this time every single other day. Or they don't want to go to sleep even though you know they are exhausted. Or...

I'm not perfect. Not by a long shot. I do get overly frustrated, slip up and yell sometimes. That can be a learning time for us both though too, because when I catch myself, I excuse myself to calm down, then come back and apologize. No one is perfect, including this Mama, and I want my girl to know that. People make mistakes, and the fact that we can apologize, hug, and still love each other afterwards, just as much as we did before, well... I think that's one of the best lessons I can give us all. Hopefully it is the one that will keep her coming to me when she makes her own mistakes.

In the meantime, I'll do my best to enjoy this toddler life. And take advantage of every free moment this crazy life allows me.

Introducing Myself

Hi, my name is Meegs and I'm the newest contributor here at Connected Mom. Here I am with my very first post, and let me tell you, I could not be more excited to join the other smart, sensitive Mamas here. I thought I would introduce myself before I dive right into writing.

My name is Meegs, and I'm a personal, all about my life blogger, turned mommy blogger with the birth of my beautiful, spirited daughter, Gwenivere, on February 16, 2010. I work outside the house full time... which is exciting, exhausting, and bittersweet. I cherish every moment home with my sweet girl. I started my blog, A New Day, in 2002 as a way to vent and ramble. I started off sporatically enough, but it became my journal and memory keeper. I feel like I've found a real community online, and love sharing myself with the world.

Since that day so long ago when I dove into blogging, I've graduated college, moved to the suburbs of Philadelphia, worked the same job in center city for 8 years, traveled to China, got engaged, bought a house, got married, traveled to Ireland and Mexico, walked a 60 miles in 3 days walk for breast cancer, got a super pup (Daisy), had Gwenie, started working one day from home, and started volunteering with a monthly Sierra Club service project! Not to mention a million other smaller things that make life great.

I'm a babywearing, breastfeeding (2.5 years and counting!), sometimes bedsharing, gentle-parenting mama. My husband, Travis, who I'll celebrate my 12th anniversary with (and 6th wedding anny) this fall is my partner in crime and a fabulous dad! He's sort of a goofball, a little bit of a nerd, definitely a big hockey fan... and we have a great time together.

I'm an easy-going girl that loves tattoos (I have 8 currently!), food (especially sushi) and the outdoors. I was born and raised in the country, and love the autumn time. I'm passionate about being greener, co-existing peacefully with the environment and its many critters, and LGBTQ rights. In my free time (ha!) I love to read, go for long walks, cheer for the Eagles and the Flyers, cook, and spend time with my family and our friends.

I can't wait to share a little bit of our lives with you!
 
If you'd like to know anything else about me, feel free to ask! I'll be posting here every other Monday.

Unplug and Reboot

Like most people these days, I spend a good amount of time reading online. Blogs and online news articles have replaced books and magazines for me to a large extent. I follow a lot of blogs and pages on Facebook, and have some sites that I visit independently. I'm on my iPhone mostly when I'm nursing.

Lately, I feel like every article I read is either about a terrible tragedy, a child getting molested or otherwise abused, horrible and extremely rare accidents, which chemical is going to kill me and my family today, an “expert” telling me I’m parenting all wrong and alienating my husband and messing up my kids for life, or (and this is my least favorite), a judgmental, negative rant written by one mom criticizing the methods of another.

I often joke about being neurotic, but I definitely have anxiety with varying intensity based on what is going on in my life at any given moment. Little things like crumbs on the floor or forgotten tasks can become big and overwhelming. Because my anxiety directly relates to my feelings of depression, no matter how rare that is at this point, and because anxiety causes me to lose it way more than I like, I’m making every effort possible to reduce as much stress as I can in my day to day.

I realized that being exposed to the types of news and articles I outlined above, even though initially I may feel like I have learned something, or even if I feel there is some entertainment value, exacerbates my feelings of negativity and anxiety. Whereas someone who doesn’t have my personality traits may be able to brush bad news off (like my husband, for example), I become influenced by whatever I’m reading or seeing to the extent where it affects my mood, or worse, my general outlook. I’ve always been this way. When I was younger my sister would marvel at how much whatever I watched on TV influenced me, and I would stay transfixed on it for days.

I want to be inspired, and I feel like that’s so rare these days. The ultimate voyerist’s playground, the media allows us to see and read about things that were once private, or maybe just not reported. Everything has a yin and a yang, and though media, the internet and social networking obviously has many benefits, sometimes it just feels like too much information is out there. And stupidly, I’m reading ALL of it.

Every story about child abduction, abuse, etc., makes me think of my own kids and what I would do if something like that happened to one of them. Every freak accident I read about makes me fearful of trying that food/going on that excursion/playing that extreme sport. I can guarantee I am  killing my whole family bit by bit, as I am sure that despite my best efforts, I haven’t gotten rid of all chemicals in my household (we microwave in plastic! Egads!). Every check in on Facebook ensures at least two or three articles on a page I have “liked” telling me what parenting mistakes I’m currently making. And then there are those judgmental articles written by moms, which have made me completely paranoid whenever I do absolutely anything in public with my kids, as I am sure someone somewhere is judging me (whether they are or they’re not, I just don’t want to know about it. Ignorance is bliss, at least in this case).  When this happens several times a day, every day, it’s overwhelming. Meanwhile, my life is passing me by.

The thing is, I just want to be happy. I feel like I am finally ready to let go of my anger, which is a huge step in the right direction, and something I’ve never been able to say before. If it makes me more vulnerable, well, so be it. I have to trust that my friends and family love me and won’t hurt me. I’m tired of being in control all the time. I’m ready to let go. I don’t want to yell at my kids anymore. I don’t want to be mad at my husband anymore. I don’t want to have enemies anymore. I don’t want to think about the past anymore. It’s such a relief. It feels like I can finally breathe.

So. Here’s where this all ties in for me. I need to unplug. And then reboot.

I will spend less time online. I will unplug from negativity. I’ve already unsubscribed from various sites that post nothing but dribble and don’t contribute to my well-being and happiness. One popular site I used to visit often is gone from my bookmarks (they were the worst offenders in terms of reporting absolutely horrible news I otherwise would never come across). I’m not sticking my head in the sand, just not letting sand get thrown in my eyes.

I will cherish my friendships and my loving, amazing family. I’m so lucky to be able to say that I have friends for life, and my family is the center of my universe. I will nurture and cultivate those relationships because I value and appreciate them. I will avoid negativity in those relationships as well.

I will drink in every moment I can with my children—even thechallenging ones. I’m going to stop washing the dishes and look at my son in the eye when he tells me a story. I’m going to hug my daughter gently when she has a potty accident. I’m going to hold my infant close and kiss her when sh ecries. I’m going to hug them and kiss them every day until they are sick of me.

When in doubt, we will dance. Lately, when things are getting a little too serious, I put on music and we have a dance party. It makes everyone happy and no one remembers what the fuss was about.

I will take lots of deep breaths. Recently, in situationswhere I’m about to lose it, I stop, close my eyes, and take a deep breath in and out. Just those three seconds allow me to calm down enough so that I don’t yell/grab/freak/have other insane reaction to a ridiculously silly issue. In that breath, I remind myself that it’s ok to let go—it’s ok to not get mad. I still lose it at times. But it’s getting so much better.

I will count my blessings. I’m probably the last person on the blogosphere to do so, but I’ve recently discovered the lovely and extraordinary Stephanie Nielson, and watching her count her blessings has inspired me to do the same, probably for life.

I will have gratitude. This is totally not my idea, but I love it. Each day I will take the time to write down what I am grateful for. I imagine the list will get long very quickly.

I will pray. I am more spiritual than religious, per se, but my faith is strong and I need to lean on it more. Every time I pray I feel better afterwards.

I will look into my husband’s eyes every day. After all, he is the reason for all of this. He has helped make me who I am. He and I have created this family.

I will try to find something lovely and precious in every single day. Even the worst days are filled with miracles.

This isn’t a new me. It’s a better, upgraded version. I’m sure there will be bugs to fix, but I know that it will be a much smoother running program. A reboot.

Not Perfect, and Not Trying To Be

In the past month or so, several posts have weaved in and out of my newsfeed with the same theme: the unrealistic expectations of motherhood. Variations have touched on why children need a mother who is truly present rather than a perfectionist, the oneupmanship of stay-at-home moms, and an attack on mommy bloggers for publishing idealistic portrayals of parenthood . . . as well as the typical tired mommy wars chatter.

If you believe what these writers (all women, all mothers) have to say, this generation of parents spends an awful lot of time comparing themselves to each other and coming up short.

But is it even true? Does it resonate with most women? Do moms see this kind of gibberish and honestly think I'm not good enough?

I have a hard time wrapping my brain around this. 

Let's start with the obvious: mothering is work (yes, true work), although sometimes what we do can be difficult to verbalize. However, I don't see it as a competition. Really.

To me, it doesn't matter what other mothers are cooking, knitting, tweeting, teaching, designing, or (gasp!) writing.

Tell me I'm not an anomaly for not caring to liken myself to others. I don't do wishful thinking. I don't do second-guessing. I don't do guilt.

Don't get me wrong . . . I love the dialogue. I love swapping stories. I even love commiserating at times. But I never feel inadequate reading about someone else's life. (And if I did, I would . . . wait for it . . . stop reading.)

Are there just not enough mommy bloggers who show the "real" side of parenting? And what exactly would that look like?

Anyone who pops by my blog for more than 30 seconds could not possibly have delusions that our life is perfect around here. Things I ponder in a typical post might include my woeful attempts at becoming organized, how I can prevent my toddler from falling off the couch and slamming his noggin into the tile floor, and potty training a four-year-old. Ooh . .  cleaning out closets, potential head injuries, and poop. 

Envious yet?

I stay home with my children because it's the best choice for our current family situation. (And in spite of the daily insanity it's actually kind of . . . fun.)

I homeschool Agent E because it works for her. (And it has all sorts of surprise benefits.)

I share our adventures on a blog because I like to write. (It's just kind of a bonus that others occasionally find what I have say relatable.)

But I certainly don't do any of those things to make someone I don't even know feel bad. I don't expect anyone to make the same choices we do, nor do I take issue with another parent's choices (assuming they are not verbally or physically abusive). 

How do you feel when you read "mommy blogs"? Amused or annoyed? Inspired or intimidated? Share in the comments.

Thanks for reading and have a blessed day.