Category Archives: milestones

No such thing as balance

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This phase is hard. I’m worn down and exhausted. It will improve over time but I need to be patient. I need sleep. I could use about 8 hours straight of no one touching me or talking to me. I am not going to get it any month soon here.

Hey! Two month visit at the doctor! Youngest Child is 23″ and 11 lbs 10 oz. She is looking like she will level off and not be as tall as the two older children; they will both be pleased. She’s still on the tall side (70%-ish) but not as much as her siblings.

Most of that weight is in the bowling ball skull that makes my arms hurt.

I love her so much. She is more quiet and serious. She is squawking and moaning and chirruping and fussing more now. I’m thrilled to have vocalizations other than screaming. I encourage them as much as I can.

She can be occasionally patient with the car but it doesn’t work every day/every car trip.

I got rid of another thrift run. I am getting to the point where some of the stuff I need to pass on is bigger and slightly more awkward. Time to post some pictures on Craigslist. In the next week or so I can probably get rid of two dressers and three book shelves because I’ve already packed and culled a layer. Sifting stuff down into smaller piles.

At some point we probably will need it to be true that all the clothes for all the people in our family fit in the long low dresser. That will be about how much volume we can handle carrying in suitcases so I might shift the clothes again in a few months. Not yet though. No need to disrupt the kids in the next month or three. I can move stuff around them.

When we have summer vacation this year there is going to be a flood of art projects because we have so many cool materials we need to use up. I’m looking forward to this experience. I haven’t gotten to try all the mediums yet.

It’s kind of funny how slowly sifting through my clothes makes me think really hard about what I wear and why. What am I willing to move? What kind of first impression do I want to give?

That’s been a huge thought lately. Our clothing is going to give an impression about us. Our level of grooming (or not) will say a lot about us. I am not good at managing these kinds of impressions. I remember many conversations where my friends have told me that either I can dress up and manage peoples expectations by meeting them or I can have people punish me for not meeting the basic expectations. My choice. I can’t get out of being judged.

When the kids and I were on the road trip across the US I fairly deliberately picked stuff that wasn’t nice but wasn’t covered in holes. That’s my concession to vanity. But the US is a schlub dressing sort of country unless you go to LA, SF, NY, Dallas, or Boston. Other places expect more and that’s going to be hard. Noah has enjoyed his programmer uniform of crappy tshirt and pants that he wears for two weeks without washing.

I am not looking forward to trying to get my children to take better care of their hair. Ugh. Both of the big kids got haircuts yesterday. Eldest Child’s hair is not as short as I hoped it would be. Given how she resists the basics of hygiene I now understand my mom encouraging me to keep my hair under 2″ long. Middle Child had their hair cleaned up and neatened and it looks much better without the weird flakey layers. They like ponytails and braids. Neither of which do well with layers.

I’m trying to think about a bunch of things at once. Packing. Home schooling is getting more fun. We are starting religion since the school is silly and told me that we have done enough. Fine. Since we finished 4th grade a month early… we will just move on. How we will get across the country.

Stuff like, given the miles involved and price of gas… it would cost around $10k to drive to the East Coast. Because it’s over 3,000 miles and over $3/gallon. Ok, there are places that are cheaper than that but not everywhere. A train ride for our family of five will cost around $2600 and the kids can get up and walk around and play. And it will take us about 4 days instead of a month with breaks for Noah to work.

Heck, Noah can work on the train.

And it’s $2600 if I get the fancy berths that convert to beds! It’s way cheaper for chairs! Not to mention that the fancy bed-berths also pay for your meals when you are on board. Meals for four people for three and some days, so call it 10 meals. 10 meals, 3 nights of sleeping (I think), and transportation across the country. That makes it seem like a less crummy price. When I could drive and pay way more than that. Flying would be faster but the train would be really neat. It would let us see some of the middle of the country we missed last time. It would be a fun way to transitioning to not using cars any more.

I keep thinking things like what will we do about diapers? Kind people keep sending us infant toys. The baby now has a fully Ikea cube of infant toys. Of course she can’t grasp anything yet and all she cares about is boobie. But hey, once she can grasp she has plenty to yank on.

I need to send a letter to Noah’s family and tell them about our plans. They are still sending huge boxes of stuff that I will need to store for a few years before it’s useful. Sigh. If only I had a more pragmatic attitude about just selling the stuff they send.

I figured out iCloud. I don’t love the idea of the Apple cult getting all my stuff. I want my stuff to not need physical storage so that I am not lugging around back up devices. I’m going to put all the stuff I currently have on external hard drives on the cloud and then I can figure out what to do with old terabyte storage units. Wheeee.

It’s fascinating thinking about how I want to pack our family. What about kitchen stuff? Is there anything for cooking that we really should bring with us because doing without is crappy? Towels and linens? And oh goodness those diapers.I love my cloth diapers. You don’t understand.

Ok, time to stop typing.

HUUUUUUUGE outing.

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Today my not quite 8 week old baby will be on public transit going to San Francisco for the first time. This is… kinda early for this much people exposure but I feel like I’m about to yank all my hair because I’m too pent up. I need out of my god damn house.

We are going to see Sarah. Because she wants to see us and coming down to us all the time is a pain. Sharing the load is fair.

I joined a “stop yelling at your kids” support thread on the parenting forum. I’m taking too much cranky out on my big kids and it needs to stop.

My moods are bouncing like whoa. I’m really happy and I’m really irritable and snappish. I’m afraid I am too much for everyone and that means I deserve nothing.

Come on brain, pick a god damn track already.

Waking up

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Yesterday the baby clearly smiled at me. That was a “Yay mommy!” face. She calms down when Noah hands her to me and she knows milk is coming. I don’t remember my big kids calming down like this. She really only complains when something specific is wrong like hunger or she needs a diaper change.

I am so happy to get to know her. I wonder if she is going to be as assertive as my big kids. Right now she is so chill that I can barely wrap my head around her. I know I should just be happy and grateful, but I’m baffled wondering how I ended up with a child who is just… relaxed so far. Life is ok. Not much to demand or push for. Everything is just ok.

She is often happy snuggling/sleeping on a big kid for an extended period while I do chores. She is imprinting on all of her people. I don’t feel like the first two wanted to imprint on other people much. Yes, sometimes Noah has to suffer through some fussing and crying to give me a break when she wishes I wouldn’t. But it’s not screaming it’s fussing.

My chores are mostly dishes and laundry at this point. I am getting some help with both (thank you Noah) but I still do the majority of folding the laundry and loading the dishwasher.

Let’s be real here. My big kids are old enough that they are doing the majority of covering for my recovering butt. Speaking of which, hemorrhoids still very present. They can go away now. They make it take forever to wipe up when I poop because I have to use these little medicated pads and gently clean each hemorrhoid. There is no dignity in parenting.

I spent a while looking at how to schedule the stuff we need to do next year. My kids are going to resent it. Oh well! Y’all want to learn stuff. It takes time. You aren’t itty bitty kids any more. Y’all are big and it’s time to move into serious academics. Which… is still only going to be three hours a day. Shush your whining. But PE is going to be a noticeable chunk of our day. Creating windows of time for longer/more intense daily hygiene is more important as we head towards puberty because they are becoming greeeeeeeasy little critters. My kids have gotten weekly baths most of their lives and they haven’t been dirty/gross. Now that puberty is rearing its head… that is not even a little bit sufficient. And ew.

I tell my children that hygiene should be increased in times of increased need. If you are visibly dirty or greasy… it’s time to take more frequent showers. If your face is breaking out like whoa because it is majorly greasy… wash your face more frequently. You don’t have to take a full shower every day. But you are probably at the point of needing to wash your hair twice a week, sometimes three times a week. Wash your face in the sink in between showers. Hi, welcome to puberty.

But I’ve never understood the “take a shower every day” thing. It’s bad for my hair and skin unless I am getting actively dirty every day. I don’t. I don’t produce enough grease for that to be necessary so it seems kind of weird.

I usually bathe 2-3 times a week. That’s a good frequency for me to not smell and I don’t look dirty. I have absolutely known people (usually for job reasons) who need to shower daily and occasionally twice in a day. But it’s not the norm.

I have had a few moms tell me that I’m gross for not bathing my children every day. Oh. Well I make sure they don’t have food on their face or in their hair and I wash their hands all the damn time. Their knees and back don’t get dirty enough to wash every day! Come on now. In the summer I do make them wash their feet in between showers because ew don’t climb in clean sheets with nasty feet.

Why can’t hygiene be applied solely at need?

People are interesting.

As I try to figure out how to get all of the stuff done in a day that the kids and I need to get done… I feel flattened. I can’t imagine trying to add in more. The kids are down to 10 hours a week of unplanned time. Playing used to be their job and it isn’t any more. Growing up sucks. 11 hours a week of academics (it’s shocking how much progress they make in this amount of time.) (And let me tell you, as a former public school teacher… most students don’t get a full 11 hours a week of 1:2 instruction.) 12 hours a week set aside for PE activities because it includes the walk to the farmers market (that we really need to get back to doing weekly) and time set aside for stretching and classes and allll the physical stuff we need to do for health and preparing for a week of constant walking. The kids do a shocking (to me) amount of cross training. It is funny to me that I have ended up being an active person.

I have some good role models.

There are slots for outside time (10 hours) and chores (7 hours). I am mentally going through my list of “where can the kids hurry up and finish what they ‘should’ be doing to squeeze in extra reading time” so I can encourage them towards efficiency so they can get what they want out of the deal too. Given how much exercising we are going to be doing, they are free to bring books out to sit in a chair during outside time. Just get sun on your face. A lot of it will be energetic though. Only 5 hours set aside for screen time. There are other spots where they could add more given how much they are exercising. I am not as anti-screen time when they are really energetic.

Fridays and Saturdays are almost unscheduled though. We have the morning/evening routines and food and that’s it. I think that is wise for us.

I don’t have slots for running errands. Well. That’ll fail right there.

Ok. Rethink this.

Ok. Two hours of the kids playing on Friday they can either come with me to do errands or they can stay home with their dad.

Of course this isn’t Noah’s schedule. Frankly that man is walking on water because he gets a lot done. I’m looking forward to being more physically competent again so I can take some stuff off of his plate. I’m trying to find time for him to rest. He got a couple of hours off last night. I try to let him sleep a night through sometimes.

We are trying to be kind to each other.

This baby is… easy to be around and it means it feels easier to be generous.

I have six more days until I get evaluated by my OB. Then I’m cleared to be a lot more active. Slow walks and only a few chores are getting old. I think this baby will be happy to be in a carrier as I do more to make my body stronger again.

When I leave the bay area I will leave my awesome medical providers. I will need to figure out how to make my body strong enough to withstand less support. And I will need to figure out how to manage my mood with more pain. It’s just going to happen.

Every choice has a constellation of consequences.

And that right there is a poopy diaper. Called to duty.

{milestone} Laughter

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Because I have to ask Sarah or Noah things about my older children, let me write down that the day before she turned five weeks old YC started laughing in her sleep. She isn’t social smiling or laughing yet, it’s still a reflex. But it’s really sweet.

In other news… I think we are in a growth spurt. She’s nursing constantly but pulling off my nipple to yell at me that she wants to nurse. No she doesn’t have a soiled diaper. No she doesn’t need to burp. No she doesn’t seem to want anything else but boy howdy is she so darned mad that I am not giving her boobie. When she has my nipple in her mouth.

I quit.

No I don’t. I have years of this shit ahead of me again. But I am slightly frustrated. Given how frothy green her poop is… I suspect she’s being lazy about hind milk and not wanting to draw hard to get it. She wants to switch back and forth to whichever boob is flowing more easily and that’s not good for her. I need to get tough and force her to fully drain a boob before moving on. Do you know how hard it is to try and enforce boundaries with a god damn newborn?! They cry and my resolve melts like butter on a hot griddle. Ok! Whatever you want! Yes dear! I live to serve!

I don’t feel so bad about telling a six or seven month old they need to fully drain a side before moving on. It’s just easier to be stern with a child who can hold their own head up. Being strict with someone who can’t even see you when you sit 3′ away…

That shit takes a lot more resolve than I have. Oh god. I’ll do anything. Just don’t die you tiny fragile thing, There is no such thing as spoiling you. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll pay as much attention to you as you want.

Just tell me, love.

She is nursing as I type. It’s late for us. She’s been having a hard time with lying down in bed for the past couple of nights. She’ll go to sleep in the carrier while we walk. She’ll sleep on the Boppy while I sit in the living room. But the bed just pisses her off. I’m not sure why.

It’s not even because she wants to be on me because for half the night or more in bed she sleeps slung across my chest because nothing else is acceptable.

I had a moment earlier today where I had a chance to crush MC’s spirit or not. I managed to not do so. *pat self on back* MC kinda… lost their grip on YC today. The baby slid off of MC’s legs while they were on the couch. The baby didn’t actually land on the floor because between MC having lightning fast reflexes where they lifted their legs to cushion the fall and me lurching forward to catch the baby… she didn’t even hit her head on the floor. But there was a good second or two where I felt complete panic.

My instant response was to scream that they don’t need to hold the baby again any time soon. As I watched tears well up in their eyes I realized I did that wrong. I fairly immediately tried to take it back. “No. That was the wrong thing for me to say. I’m so sorry. That’s not the right response for you or for her. I was scared and I over reacted. Ok. How about if you sit on the floor to hold her. She is getting very squirmy and that’s scary and dangerous. Both your dad and I have dropped babies. I don’t need to act like you did a worse thing. I’m sorry I screamed. That was wrong of me. Let me help you hold her safely.”

I have absolutely no desire to convince them that a mistake means you are out of chances. That is the wrong way to handle it.

I’m screaming more than I have in years. It’s reflexive. It’s a combination of my nerves feeling like they are being run over a cheese grater (baby screaming is so hard) and sleep deprivation. The last three or four nights have been every two hour wake ups and I’m weary. These reasons are not an excuse and they do not justify me losing control of my volume. I’m trying and failing to keep my shit together.

It’s not even that I’m saying that much mean shit. It’s that I’m saying things like “I can’t hear you” at ridiculous volumes. I’m really struggling with the screaming. And feeling touched out.

I went and got ear plugs for tonight’s fussy period. My head hurts so much. I wouldn’t trade this for the world… it’s hard but worth it. Getting through this together helps build our bond. Yes I will stay with you through the hard parts.

I’m alternating between feeling like I’m doing a good job because I’m asking Noah and the big kids to help me with stuff and I feel like I’m a horrible person because I’m so lazy and demanding, I just can’t win.

H’okay. That’s a very poopy diaper I need to change. Whoo.

Such a lovely pediatrician.

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I picked our pediatrician based on her doing her intensive college research project on intergenerational patterns of abuse. She’s a neat lady. We had a follow up conversation about CPS (and the original incident last summer) and her attitude was absolutely inspirational. One of my bigger children was with me and I think the doctor’s attitude was really helpful to our continued processing.

The doctor made it very clear that everyone makes mistakes and this was just a mistake. How do you find out what kind of person you want to be if you never cross the line into being someone you don’t want to be?

I love this doctor.

Turns out the doctor had already gone over to the hospital and said, “Who might have turned in my patient’s mother for pot! That’s not cool!” and the staff over there was confused because that is not their policy. Given that the CPS visit turned out to not be about pot… I feel a little sad about not trusting them more. But this process is hard. Everyone did their job well and appropriately and absolutely everyone involved was respectful towards me and my family. I’m glad CPS shows up to ask the questions they asked us.

So yeah. Such a lovely doctor. I’m grateful for her.

Also, Youngest Child is growing like whoa. At her 2 day old visit she had dropped down to 7 lbs 14 oz. At her one month visit she’s up to 9 lbs 4oz. 26oz in 30 days. Sounds great to me. Her height went from 20″ to 22″. Around 50% for weight, 90% for height.

I find it kind of fascinating that all of my children are so tall. They have all been 75% + for their entire lives with the younger two being 90%+. Neither Noah nor I are that tall. It seems… surprising to me. Noah is dead flipping average for a man. I am an inch taller than “average” for a woman. Why are my kids like the jolly green giant?!

Must be all the damn vegetables. I wonder if I would have been taller if I had eaten better as a child.

I asked about the icy cold hands at night. Doctor said that at this stage she just hasn’t figured out circulation and as long as her core is warm, don’t stress. Put sleeves on her and don’t fret. Ok. I’ve been keeping her in sleeves. Hahahaha on the not fretting part.

She’s my tiny little externalized beating heart. I worry about her.

She barely cried for a few seconds at her shot today. I was impressed. It wasn’t a minute of crying. She just went to sleep because I had been tormenting her by keeping her awake. She hadn’t been crying about the tormenting awakeness. She just grunted at me and whined a little, like she does.

I noticed that I didn’t write that much down about MC’s milestones. I think that a lot of that choice was because I go through these periods of feeling embarrassed about my focus on my children. I know that nonbreeders really don’t give a shit about the minutiae of my children. I know that hearing people talk about their kids is boring. (I can tell my eyes gloss over sometimes when people tell me about their kids… it’s ok to not be fascinated by my children…) But then I don’t remember what month they started using two word phrases and I’m fucking mad at myself for feeling self conscious and not writing it down.

I need to not care what you don’t want to hear about because this data collection spot is useful and I need to take advantage of it.

Speaking of which, MC’s hair now reaches their waist because they really feel inspired by Rose’s hair. They want hair that goes to at least their butt. Sure.

The baby is tiny and vigorous and growing and doing all the important mammal skills.

Oh! Yesterday we had a comedy show diaper change. I was reminded of the fact that I have a huge box of puppy pads. Since the baby is so prolific about emptying the pipes while on the changing table and we are a little sad about having to deal with cleaning up the whole shebang every day… Hey I can solve a problem.

So big sister asked to change a diaper. I asked her to bring a pad, diaper, and wipes to the floor in the living room so it would be a little less hazardous.

This turned into a hilarious experience involving a lot of pulling the baby off the spreading/growing pee puddles and dragging her out of the piles of poop she wanted to kick and play with. It was nice having two kids to help with that experience. It really was fun to watch. Big sister did all the important bits and I gave helpful/snarky advice.

We all got to have a fun time. The baby was so relaxed and mellow through the whole thing. She just blinked up at us like, “What? Y’all act like clearing the pipes is something to fuss about…”

Her head has already expanded by 3/4″. Terrifying noggin.

We are getting in the books for next academic year. Why does this process excite me so much?

Third time’s the charm.

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I have said for ten years that any amount of labor time under 24 hours would be easy. I was right! 21 hours were fine.

First: this could not possibly have gone so well without our wonderfully kind friend who moved in for a week so that when I had a full day of contractions and they petered out I had no extra stress about feeling guilty about prodromal labor. I got to ride the waves and take whatever experience. It was a gift. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

My official labor got going around 8:30am on Monday. My contractions built in intensity and regularity all day. I went in around 7pm because my contractions were about 5 minutes apart and a minute long and consistently more than 10/hour. Mostly I was fretful because she had slowed her moving down and I was worried. It’s so hard not being able to see if the baby inside of you is ok.

I got to the hospital 3cm dilated (which isn’t that much and they could have sent me home) and 90% effaced with a bulging water sack. They wanted me to stay. Around 10:30ish they started Pitocin. The epidural was started around 11. Then I went to sleep. I was checked at some point. I was woken up/checked again around 4. During the 4am check the doctor accidentally broke my water bag because whoops it was in the way. At first she said 8cm. Then a minute later she declared me complete and instantly there were six extra people, lots of lights, and a whole bunch of beeping machines.

When my water was broken my blood pressure and her heart rate dropped dramatically. I was put on oxygen instantly. They started IV meds to support the baby.

Between 4:30ish and 5 I was in position and they started encouraging me towards pushing. Another moment of intense gratitude: my friend’s mom came to the hospital with us around 10pm. She was there talking and being supportive whenever I needed her. Her voice did sound above the crowd to give encouragement and feedback.

I might actually send out thank you cards. I’m really in awe of how people showed up for me.

The nurses also did a good job of giving feedback and support. But Ma’s voice was louder and more insistent.

Noah did a wonderful job of supporting me this time. He kept his face soft and loving the whole time. No grimacing at my pain. Well done, fantastic husband.

Ze baby emerged at 5:28am. I didn’t tear or get a skid mark or nothing. I am shocked by how relatively comfortable my external genitalia feel. I’m sore but it’s not bad. Internally the continued contractions to get my uterus back to size suuuuuuuuuuck. And why don’t I take 400mg of Ibuprofen three times a day and I wont have pain, right?! Oh man.

Several folks, including the lactation consultant, asked me about my THC usage. We clarified that I don’t smoke it basically at all (inhaling it is one of the most dangerous steps–we know there are problems from breathing smoke) and I went into details about why I use it and what I have replaced with it and why my medical team thinks this is the best choice for me. I was rather stunned by the extent of support I received. Most folks were like, “You are clearly very educated on this topic and you are making the best choice for your body. Alright. Excellent.” My pain management doctor telling me that my next line is Oxycontin and Ativan really helps. No one wants me on those meds. Definitely not when I’m breeding/feeding a kid.

I didn’t find out till we got home that one pediatrician had a judgy conversation with Noah about my THC when I was out of the room. I’m tempted to follow up on that because it might be a HIPAA violation for her to discuss my medication without me present and that kind of bugs me. What if I had been using birth control behind my husband’s back and she just wanted to mention that it might impact my baby and I am going to go home and get in trouble? You don’t report on other peoples medical care when they are not present. That shit’s not cool.

What if my husband didn’t approve but it was still the best mediation option and now he is going to make my life a living hell? That’s very realistic.

Anyway.

The baby feels slightly more fragile to me than my previous kids. Specifically: she’s having trouble with reflux. Her first whole night of life I barely slept because she would spit up, fill her mouth with fluid, and be unable to do anything about it. She couldn’t move her head to let it fall out and she couldn’t swallow it. So I spent a lot of time flipping her over and clearing her mouth. The lactation consultant agreed that putting her in the bassinet would be stupid. She needed to be up against my body with me paranoid and watching her. It was a festive/non-restful/wonderful night. Oh, I sent Noah home so he could sleep because otherwise we would both be exhausted and useless.

8:30am-5:30am. 21 hours. It was great. The first day of hospital recovery was lovely.

She was 20.5″ long (so .5″ shorter than the two older kids) and 8lbs 9oz. So heavier than both siblings, who were 8lbs and 8lbs 4 oz. I am steadily gaining 4ish oz per kid and that’s a great time to stop. Ha.

It took us till 1pm to secure check out because the hospital kind of wanted me to stay an extra night. But I got shifted from the maternity section to the pediatrics section and I kind of fell out of the “we will pay a lot of attention to you” rotation and that was difficult for me. I didn’t feel good about calling my nurse all the time to get the same care I had previously gotten for existing. So I didn’t drink or eat almost at all the second day in the hospital because she wasn’t offering anymore.

That was suboptimal. I came home and scarfed a big bag of salami because I needed protein before I killed someone.

Our friend went home last night. Her dog was experiencing a lot of stress from the new rules with a baby. My house had already been hard because there were more rules than usual and it was just not fair to keep cracking down on her. I am so so so so so so grateful my friend stayed as long as she did. The dog’s behavior was great. She never did anything inappropriate. She was just done with the restrictions. I would have flipped out long before she did. Such a good girl.

I tried to tell Noah to watch the baby and let me sleep in between nursing last night. Ha. That uhhh… didn’t work very well. He did a 7.5 hour shift and I probably got 1.5-2 hours of sleep. Sigh. It’ll be ok. I will sleep today.

It is fascinating to me how excited and complete I feel. I am so happy I get to learn about this wonderful daughter. She gets cold! Like me! She shivers a lot. She needs a fair bit of bundling in our frigid California weather. Ha. I really can’t tell who she looks like yet. She looks like a whole new person and it is so neato. She’s beautiful and I feel completely overwhelmed with gratitude that I get to keep her and take care of her. She is my responsibility. I am allowed to love her with my whole heart.

I can’t express what that means to me.

I don’t feel sad about wanting more children. I feel like I am at my limit emotionally and physically. This is my family. This is what I want/wanted. In the future I will have the spoons to foster, but I don’t think I will ever take on a baby again. This is my journey.

I feel so lucky.

Big kids are ecstatic. They are snuggling her and talking to her and trying to learn how to be helpful. It will be a process and I’m glad to be on it with them.

I get to have two daughters and a non-binary kid. I get to have a husband who thinks I am the best thing since sliced bread. I get to have friends who show up to help me and support me through complications and challenges. I get to have a home I am allowed to alter and be safe in however I want. I get to have healthy meat and vegetables every day so that my body achieves a level of functioning I didn’t believe possible for me.

I can’t believe this is my life. I am one of the luckiest people ever born. I have so much. I am so grateful.

I am glad I am still alive for this feeling.

Ze baby has already had 8, maybe 9 poopy diapers and 2 or 3 wet diapers. I’m getting confused already. This is a great sign though. Her digestion is working. Her kidneys are starting to function as we hoped. We have a pediatrician check up in about 6 hours.

This is going as well as something can go. I am eternally grateful.

Random note: to the best of my knowledge my child is the only person in the entire world with her legal first/last name combo. I will do my best to never put it on the internet for her. That will happen when she chooses.

Testing documentation

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I got an email from our educational specialist (ES) today. She tested both kids last time she was here. The results both surprise me and don’t and I feel like a huge asshole.

I expected Future Middle Child to not do well because they aren’t reading yet. If we had tested Eldest Child before we left on the road trip… she would have been at a similar level for grade. My kids are late readers and that impacts their ability to take tests. FMC did so poorly on the reading test that I wasn’t given a result and instead I was told that kiddo needs to start remediation… which I’m unhappy about. Kiddo is where I expect them to be. I don’t think forcing them through not-very-effective “support” is going to help. I think it is going to make the process of learning to read shittier. They tested at the 65% for math and that shocks me because they stand behind their sister giving her answers to her math problems that are two grades ahead of them. I think it is because they don’t read and that messes up their ability to test in anything.

I feel like a huge asshole because I’m shocked by EC’s results. Uhm. She is higher than I expected by a lot. She is at the 98% for math and the 97% for reading. I……. honestly expected her to be at closer to the 60% for math. She complains all the fucking time about doing math of any sort for any reason. She tells me all the time how bad she is at math.

Uhhh… guess not.

She started out 3rd grade significantly behind. The Stanford evaluation proved that. She was way below grade level in every area. That was one fucking year of trying to do academic work.

I expect a similar dynamic from FMC and I’m seriously bummed that I put them in a charter school this year to fuck with my system. IT WAS WORKING.

Ok, I thought I wouldn’t tell EC her actual test scores. (I took a break right there to go talk to her while FMC is asleep.) I asked her how she thought she did. She’s all “Meh. Probably around 60%.” Ok, if you are going to underestimate yourself by that much… I need to tell you the score.

I feel bad that I have communicated my low expectations so accurately. I’m a shitty mother.

She is ebullient. We talked about how this is not about her being “smart”. One year ago she was tested as below grade level in every area. Stanford wanted me to get her into tutoring because she was so below grade level and I saw, “Naw I just haven’t started teaching that yet.”

EC attaining this is about the hard work she has put in. It’s not about smarts. It’s work. She has worked very hard for the past year and it shows. It has tangible results. FMC has not yet begun that work and it shows.

And that’s how it should be.

Before you are taught something of course you do poorly when tested on it.

But when EC is struggling with a math problem FMC stands behind her and rattles off the answer to the problem.

I think this is going to get interesting.

I told EC that I am very proud of her. She attained this on her own because she was willing to work so hard. Her face lit up like the fourth of July.

Err, if it isn’t clear from elsewhere in the post the scores aren’t 98% out of 100% of points earned. That’s the percentile for how the kids did compared to the expectations for their grade.

I wanted to get my kids caught up by 4th grade so that if they had to transfer to a school they wouldn’t be ashamed of being “stupid”.

Achievement partially unlocked. My 2nd grader is on track where I expect them to be. And my 4th grader god damn did it.

I didn’t do it. She did.

I mean… there’s this niggling part of me that says “I’m fucking brilliant and so is Noah so of fucking course our daughter is this fucking good at this shit.” And then there’s the bigger part of me that says, “You know how you’ve been underestimating her and acting like she isn’t that smart? You fucking suck rocks.”

More than one thing can be true.

I need to write Noah’s grandmother a letter. She will appreciate hearing this more than basically anyone else.

That’s a lovely milestone.

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Today my daughter was talking about something… I can’t quite remember how we got to this, but I handed her a textbook I read in my junior year of college so she could find out how different the original stories of Beauty and the Beast are from the Disney version. She said there were a couple of words she didn’t know, but that was fun to read.

Two years ago she couldn’t read a Dr. Seuss book independently. Now she’s reading from my college textbooks and understanding almost all of it.

I’m glad I trusted her to learn at her own pace. I’m really glad I didn’t push her beyond what she felt she could do.

I don’t fail at everything.

Home. And Petty.

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I’ve spent most of the last week grateful I didn’t have a computer. I would have written some incredibly unkind things. I wanted to stoop to a level of petty that would be darn near epic. Why?

Because people get all twisted up in my head. I’m never responding to one thing at a time.

I’ve spent the last few years in therapy doing a tremendous amount of work around the fact that the Bonus Mama triggered all of my “like my sister” buttons, minus the sexual assaults. She has quite a few of the same problems and in my ridiculous codependency I’ve spent a lot of time and energy trying to fix her problems.

It is a gift from the universe that I am now done with that set of behaviors. I never need go clean her house again. I never need try and help her children emotionally cope with neglect. I never need try and pretend that I am unaffected by the physical violence in her marriage again.

I am free.

I think this is a positive step in my life. I need to stop trying to cover for broken people. It’s a real problem I have.

I need to stop investing my life into trying to make up for people who won’t even admit that I’m doing a back breaking amount of work for them. It’s stupid. It’s self defeating. I have spent a lot of time and energy and money over the past few years trying to do something for the ephemeral child self I still have. Other people helped me so I helped her kids.

But I’ve given what I can and it’s time to move on.

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Part of what this relationship came into my life to teach me is that when my children say, “I don’t want to associate with this person because she is mean” I need to never overrule them again. I need to never ignore such a signal again. I feel deeply ashamed of myself for telling my children to cope with behavior that made them feel diminished because I wanted weekend babysitting. That was wrong of me. My behavior was selfish and disgusting.

I was wrong.

I will never deliberately send my children to the home of someone who speaks to them with contempt again. I. Was. Wrong.

Hopefully I have learned the lesson I needed to learn and in the future when someone triggers my “like my sister” buttons I will run like my tampon string is on fire.

No more hoarders. No more people who refuse to acknowledge that they are literally physically, emotionally, and mentally unequipped to take care of their children while they brag about how great they are. No more people who are in a marriage that involves domestic violence, gaslighting, stone walling, and screaming matches that the children can hear only to turn around and tell me that if the marriage is destroyed it’ll be my fault. Sure. Because y’all had none of these problems the day I arrived. Right. Who is the one with the convenient memory? I write down all my bad shit so I can’t claim it didn’t happen. Remember how I’ve begged you to document your DV for 7 years because shit like this comes to a head and you always said, “But I don’t want to remember.”

Sure. If your marriage is destroyed it’ll be my fault. Yup. Right. Because I’m the one sitting there filled with contempt. Yup. That’s me.

Take your guilt trip to someone who is stupid enough to be buying. I’m fresh out of money for such bullshit.

I am free.

Do you know when I freaked out and started demanding that your kids be put in school the fuck away from you? When you took them to Moana and came home crying because you believe your children are incapable of understanding and appreciating the story. Guess what? Your kids are capable of understanding. You are incapable of teaching and your children need to spend time with competent teachers who can teach them. Stop fucking over your children because you are fucking broken and you want your children to be as limited as you are so you feel comfortable. Your children have more potential than you do. Let them go be taught by someone with actual ability to teach and they’ll be ok.

The worst thing that ever happened to you was someone telling you that your IQ is high. You use that number as an excuse for why you are better than people as you cannot fulfill basic life functions. It’s sad and pathetic and your fucking children need to be educated by people who have the humility to say, “I don’t know everything so I’d better study.” You think that if you buy all the books and don’t read them it’s just as good.

Your children deserve better than to be locked in your company all the time.

And after this I need to never ever write about your family again.

I’m done.

An interaction

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Holy tomatoes on toast I hurt. So this’ll be brief.

I had an interesting interaction with a dude today. So I found a guy through my massage therapist who specializes in personal training to help people with injuries/problems. I figure that if I can’t get a doctor to prescribe honest to fucking god physical therapy for me so that I can heal some of my injuries… I can hunt on the outskirts of the system. I can find someone who doesn’t really mesh with the gate kept, abusive system.

Sure, I can try this out.

Thing is, he’s a white guy. You know how I am about getting my hackles up with white guys. Especially athletic white guys. I am hostile until I have a reason not to be.

But I desperately need someone who can do what this guy advertises. So I gotta put my personal shit in a box and shove it in a closet and see if I can handle dealing with him.

Sigh. Fuck being a grown up.

So I gotta say, he has an aura. He’s pretty clearly an orphan. The loss of all family came up several times in the conversation. He’s got that… edge of “I have to be cheerfully polite in order to earn money to survive because there’s not a person in the world who values me enough to support me but I’m so sad.”

I mean, he seemed genuinely sweet and caring. I’m not denigrating that at all. He seems incredibly sincere. He wants to help. And he wears grief like a mantle. He advertises his loss openly on his skin. He is reminded all day every day. Grief, even if you smile, leaves tracks on your face.

But he did something that crossed a boundary and it was interesting. I didn’t call it out. I didn’t assert the boundary so in one sense… he didn’t cross a boundary he nonverbally negotiated a boundary change and I didn’t rebuff it to indicate where my boundary actually was.

To be more clear: he asked me about my arm tattoo. I explained it and started tearing up, like I do sometimes. Suicide is sad, yo. And… he leaned in and gave me an incredibly respectful, incredibly gentle, incredibly touching hug. It was the hug of someone who works with bodies and knows how to make touch 100% NON SEXUAL, OKAY?!?!?!

He reminds me just a tad of Taylor. One of the few men I trust almost as much as Noah.

It was absolutely incredible to realize that in a moment of indecision of “should I panic and fight or should I accept this as connection?” in my head my brain wrapped around a man who has loved me as a friend for a long time.

I didn’t feel scared.

I felt uncertain. I felt like I needed to make a decision. I felt like I had a chance to… figure out how this is going to go. Is he allowed to touch me?

I desperately want this man to help me learn how to hold my body in ways that will hurt me less. I need to trust him. I need to trust that he is going to touch me in appropriate ways or this just isn’t going to work.

This, now that I think about it, is scary as shit.

I wasn’t scared in that moment. I just felt it as a moment of choice, “Am I going to surrender to this process or not?”

I used to lash out at dance teachers who wanted to correct my form. I wasn’t there to look perfect I was there to have a chance to talk to people for 2-4 minutes while I did something more healthy than be a slug staring at my god damn computer.

This is different. I know what my goals are here. I need this process.

I need to figure out how to be in less pain.

So maybe he didn’t cross a boundary. But maybe he and I will have a funny conversation about how I normally react to people in a few weeks and we will laugh. He will probably apologize and feel embarrassed. He strikes me as that sort.

It felt like Joey. The 7th Day Adventist boy who was best friends with my brother Tommy and with whom I later lived. (We were both boarders in a house owned by someone at the church–it wasn’t like we were romantic or anything. I was 13.)  He was the one who took me to church and taught me to sing about Jesus loving me no matter what.

I know I have a lot of issues with hating white men because some of them have been complete motherfucking pieces of shit.

But some of them genuinely don’t suck. #Notallmen and all that.

I really hope I’m not making a mistake. But here I am documenting it so that in the future I will have to remember: I made a choice.

I’m trying to surrender to a process.

Please, if any deity exists, let this not be an awful thing.

I’ve stacked the deck in my favor by receiving this personal training with my kids in the room and my husband in the house.

I know how the patriarchy works.

Fuck.

Do you understand how much of my childhood people denied? Something huge and dramatic would happen and folks flat denied it. I need to make sure I can never rewrite history.

I did what I did. Here, I wrote it down.

Lessons I’ve learned

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This is a very edited version of something I wrote for a particular person. I took the shell of that message and expanded it here for my own record keeping.

This year has been kind of a horrible and traumatizing adventure.

The line between what makes a “friend” and what makes a lover/partner are often difficult and hard to see. I freely say I love you to my friends and they say it back. There is hand holding and snuggling even when I go through long periods of monogamy because my friends are the reason I stayed alive through a multitude of traumatic experiences.
With that in the background Noah and I met and started our marriage with an open relationship. We agreed to be monogamous through the breeding period (for lots of complicated reasons) with the idea that we would probably date later. About five years ago (when did Occupy happen?) I asked for us to open a bit and try things out. We proceeded to hurt each other a lot with the choices we were making around dating and we decided to close the relationship.
I have a variety of extreme mental illness problems. Treating myself like I matter is not easy for me. I would much rather sustain physical damage than inconvenience someone. As part of the agreement for being monogamous we agreed that I needed to provide sex for Noah at least ten times a month. The quota was hard to fill. It meant I had sex that was significantly painful on a regular basis. I was not honest about how this was impacting me. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
I mean, that’s true and not true. I’ve written all over my blog about having problems with it. But I also said I wanted to do it. I’m very conflicted on this issue.
Anyway. I came back from the road trip and discovered that six months of having my body be mine was absolutely transformative. I hit the wall. I’m done taking one for the team.
 
I had been bottling up a lot of desires for a long time. (I’m extremely sadistic. Noah is not masochistic.) He is kinda sorta willing to let me hit him if I really want… but he doesn’t enjoy it and I feel like a really gross person. Instead I have a long-term friend/play partner who likes to be kicked in the nuts, who wants me to slice him open with scalpels and drink his blood.
I started negotiation for the right to play with my friend. Then I went to visit a friend out of state and I cheated. When I say I cheated I mean I spanked two friends at a party. I did not have Noah’s consent to play outside the marriage. I didn’t have sex. I didn’t even kiss anyone. But I cheated anyway. It hurt Noah a lot.
Then I announced high handedly that I was done following rules and I was going to go date. I did. A lot. For about three months. Most of the people I dated are people I have known for many years. They are all deeply ingrained in my life. Some of them I have known for literally my entire adult life. Some of them were brand new and had boundaries Noah didn’t like.
 
By the end of this Noah had spent a lot of time screaming at me in the middle of the night, sobbing hysterically on the floor while wanting to die, and slamming walls to shut me up when I was arguing nastily with him. I can be pretty fucking nasty.
I made a deal with the devil. I made a deal I couldn’t keep and there were consequences for me and I didn’t communicate about them. I just completely exploded.
Noah asked me to stop going on solo dates. Noah asked that we not do solo sex unless we were at a party together and we just happen to also want to play with friends while there.
My friends know in ridiculous detail how these fights went because I usually wrote all the details down the next day. Which is why all my friends and play partners stopped calling for a few months. They were all, “Krissy stop fucking around and go fix your marriage.”
It has been a solid wall of support for I’m the asshole of the year. I’m not proud.
Hey friends, thank you for caring about me enough to tell me that I have to fix my marriage. That is loving me in a real and true way that isn’t selfish. I really appreciate it.
On the day Noah asked me to marry him he asked me to be his slave. I told him not yet. I said we weren’t ready for those kinds of roles yet. But I wanted to be someday. All this year we have been intensely focused on “It’s time to shit or get off the pot.” We’ve had written agreements in place for a while now that it isn’t ok to do ownership or possessiveness with other people at all.
That’s something that all of my partners know about. Casual sex: excellent. Intensely loving friendship: sure thing. But there are hard lines. Noah is getting a lot more honest about what he wants from me too. Last night we had a really excellent experience with a dear friend who helped us do an intense amount of processing.
Noah doesn’t want us to date alone. At all. I think having it be very clear that Noah wants nearly-monogamy is useful. I think that I have been kind of moving along on the assumption that I married a poly guy and I threw a fit a few years back and closed the relationship on him. There were things exploding. It wasn’t good.
We learn lessons in stages.
It probably isn’t going to be happening soon but someday we will have sex with our friends again. But we’ll find ways to do it together. I don’t get to have a boyfriend ever again. He doesn’t want to have a girlfriend ever again.
Which is an interesting way of phrasing it.
I need to go put some serious effort into learning how to get my intimacy needs met without sex. That sounds kind of obnoxious, I’ll be frank.
But I’ve learned harder subjects.
I hurt Noah a lot this year. I need to learn from this experience and not do it again. We are still working on the forgiving bit.
I’m utterly exhausted but I feel glowy and at peace. We didn’t sleep much. The kids went to their Bonus Family so we could have the space to talk without having to think about their needs. We also fasted for 24 hours. Shocking that it didn’t make us cranky.
Instead I feel like we were able to be very clear about some things that we have been talking around for a long time.
That’s all I’ve got for now.

Find some gratitude

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Oh my goodness. Noah got news tonight that is going to do a lot to change our lives. I’m… excited. Thrilled. Nervous. Overjoyed. Proud of him.

Many  years ago Noah came to me and said, “There is this thing I want to learn. It means I’m going to ignore you a lot. But I think it’s going to be important.”

I grumbled. I griped. I was pissy for a long time. I learned how to support him and I got over my attitude.

Today that paid off. All those years of effort. Ok, Noah maybe the books aren’t doing what you hoped (they aren’t nothing!) but some of your bets… have paid off. Well done.

Then we used our babysitting date time to go to a wet munch and I got a lovely spanking. It wasn’t intense or mean. It was just a lovely spanking.

Why do so many good things happen to me? Ok… some of this is happening to Noah and I’m just standing near him. But this is going to change my life too. I’m so excited. We’ve wanted this for so long. You just don’t understand what this means to me.

It means I’m thinking about space in the house again. How are we going to handle this change? Don’t worry. I’ll make a way for this to work. I’ll make this work.

I have wanted this for years and years and years.

Oh I’m so happy. This is going to be great. Ok. We’ll figure out nonmonogamy. We have too much good stuff going on for us to not do it.

This news is so big. Oh my goodness.

First date: the deity.

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How do I even begin this review? Uhm… it was good. Fantastic. Incredible. Four years of hype paid off.

Someone fell out of the Top 5 last night. They were replaced. Not telling you who because I’m barely tactful enough.

What was so good? Everything. Everything from the second minute I walked in until I left was that good.

Ridiculously good kisser. Our mouths are just the same size. I really like how much he uses his tongue. I like the way he uses his tongue. The kissing experience was just wicked good. I didn’t want to stop.

I am so happy that after that much lead up he seriously just said “How are you doing?” twice before starting to kiss me.

He wasn’t paying attention to the first answer because he was thinking about kissing me.

I was correct in my guess that this would be a French vanilla experience, but such a glorious experience.

I like how he pinches. I like his fingernails. I like the way he alternates fucking and pain. I like the way he fucks me.

Oh my goodness he felt good on top of me. Like, intensely overwhelmingly good. That was just a good fit.

I liked sucking his cock. I liked the noises he made.

I appreciated being allowed to put the condoms on because I just have more experience. Ha. I tried to be fun in the process.

He taunted me until I wanted him incredibly badly. Then he fucked me for a while. Then he took a break from fucking to hurt me more. Then he fucked me for a while. Then he came (glorious sounds–oh yes). Then he took a break to hurt me some more. Then he fucked me again.

Oh wow.

Do you know what completely knocks someone else out of the Top 5? The talking. Oh the deity gives good talk. He wasn’t even very repetitive. Good whore/good girl/ Oh my god you’re so responsive were the main repeats and otherwise he said a variety of complimentary things.

I don’t remember when I’ve been so complimented. He thinks I live up to the hype and make no mistake. I felt so adored.

I feel like I want to go back.

He said so many nice things and I really liked the way he hurt me. And even though in general I’m really content with the size of Noah’s cock…

it was hot to feel split open. It’s always funny when guys are like, “What do you mean I have a big cock?” Know how I can barely get my hand around it? That means it is big. Know how you have to buy Magnums? THAT MEANS IT IS BIG.

hahahahahahaha

I am fairly terrified that he wants to put that in my ass. Oh. My. God. I’m not sure that is going to work.

But everything else was so hot that I’m ok with him trying in the future. He’ll just have to be incredibly patient and slow. Luckily he showed me last night that it is fairly likely to go well.

I have so long until our next date. At least I know what I’ll get for my anticipation. Fucked six ways from Sunday in a truly delicious manner.

I can’t wait to kiss him again. I feel like I want to drown in kissing him. I want more I want more I want more.

I like what he did with his hands, his words, his cock. Oh I want more.

Please. More.

Here I was wondering if I’d be all “Meh. Once is good.” Once is not enough. I have no idea how much will be enough.

Users Guide 3.0 Married with Children Edition

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Many… many years ago I copied the idea of a users guide from my friend because I know that I am difficult to figure out when it comes to sex sometimes. I’m picky and fussy and just generally demanding. Therefore it seems like a lovely idea to have some sort of cheat sheet about how to handle me in general. Some of these things I have figured out on my own, some of these things I have had pointed out to me by friends and/or lovers/husband, some of these things are constantly in flux and will no longer be true in just a few months. Of course this is a living document and therefore subject to change and revision without notice. Just because something is in here doesn’t mean you should assume that for now and all times this is the only thing I like/want/don’t like etc. After the roller coaster that was pregnancy and giving birth, I promise you things change in my body over time.

Index:
A. Before sex (including courtship/getting to know one another)
1. Just meeting and assumptions.
2. Appearance stuff and attraction.
a. Hair
b. Weight/height
c. Gender
d. Cocks
e. Race
f. Oral Hygiene
3. STIs/safer sex
4. Foreplay
a. Breasts
b. Ways to turn me on
B. During sex (including bdsm play)
1. Oral sex
2. Positions
3. Vibrators
4. Bondage
5. Group Sex
6. D/s
7. Pain
8. Care of the delicate bits
C. After sex. (including relationship level interactions)

A. Before Sex
1. Just getting acquainted
a. General

Never assume that you are going to get to go to bed with me. Yes, I go to bed with quite a few people—that doesn’t mean I will choose you. I expect and require that people treat me as an equal, and more importantly as an intelligent, thoughtful, responsible human being until otherwise negotiated. Please don’t act like I ought to be honored to teach you whatever it is you want to know about play/sex/whatever. I have taught classes and initiated virgins and newbies alike. I’ve put in my time to the community. I can coast on doing what pleases me and only what pleases me.

b. Specifics in a Having-Kids-Lifestyle

I don’t have a lot of free time. What free time I have is mostly spent alone because I have a very high intensity life that requires me to be well regulated emotionally despite stress. I can’t focus on getting to know new adults in a really concentrated way. I’m not flakey, but I don’t have much availability. And to be honest I’m a little flakey. My priority at this stage of my life is being nice to my kids. I have to keep the rest of my life quiet enough for that to happen or I have to drop other stuff. That is the deal for another ten years.

2. Appearance stuff and attraction
a. Hair
Once upon a time I said that I prefer clean shaven men, but that has radically changed during my adulthood. My opinion now varies tremendously based on personal attitude, grooming standards, and just plain what suits each face. As for the hair on other peoples heads: I don’t care anymore. I barely notice. I’m interested in your mind. I like body hair on anyone. Pubic hair doesn’t affect me one way or the other. I sometimes shave large portions of my body. I sometimes skip shaving for over a year at a go. You have to be totally ok with either or go away.

b. Weight/height

My weight goes up and down in a 40 pound range like a yo yo. Almost annually. You can’t be attracted to me for a specific look of my body. It will be different next month. I don’t know what the fork is up with it. Yes, I talk to doctors about it. I like people with bodies. I like fat bodies. I am…more appreciative of slender bodies than I used to be, but I still prefer some heft. I used to be a bit hung up on height and now I don’t care. I like people.

c. Gender

I am a cis-gender woman. If you haven’t picked up on the fact that I am queer then you haven’t been reading closely. I have had strong attractions to people at every point on the gender spectrum. I am completely comfortable having sexual contact that begins with, “What words do you want me to use for your body parts and how do you want me to touch you?” because I can’t guess. Everyone is unique.

d. Cocks (What the hell—since I am listing my preferences…)

Everyone should remember that the vagina is all about potential space. Yes, it can technically stretch, but in a normal resting spot it isn’t particularly large. My body doesn’t stretch terribly well or willingly (even after giving birth to two children) so I am not a fan of overly large cocks. Period. If it is going to cause my jaw to be sore within five minutes of oral sex I will probably experience a lot of pain during sex and that isn’t good for me. I am so not a size queen. I do not have lower limits on the size of cocks I can figure out how to enjoy. Not all sex is about penis in vagina sex. But I do have upper limits. Ow. No thank you. It’s not personal.

e. Race/marginalization

This is complicated. I am aware that I am most comfortable treating heterosexual white men like pieces of meat. If I fuck them and don’t call later… I don’t feel real bad. I have major hang ups around using people of color and women and gender ambiguous people in the same way. I feel tremendous shame and guilt around hurting already marginalized people. Which is to say… I really like having sex with people who are not het white men. I have a hard time approaching them. I don’t want to hurt them and I am less clear on the boundaries. I err on the side of not being a using asshole. But if you are interested… let me know.

f. Oral Hygiene

YES. Bad breath/teeth that look unclean is really really really repellent to me. I generally won’t kiss someone with bad breath. I will elect not to even if you are a nice person. Just no. I smoke pot and that has impact on my mouth. I do not mind kissing other people who smoke pot. I still really am not fond of kissing tobacco smokers. I don’t like the taste at all.

3. STIs/safer sex

The first thing that ought to happen in foreplay is a discussion of STI’s and safer sex expectations. I have honestly not been tested that recently but I was monogamous until the last month so I don’t feel too guilty. I’ll get back on a regular testing schedule. My habit is every six months if I am being promiscuous. (As of 4/2 waiting on results but I have been in for testing.)

I am a big proponent of the idea that we are having “safer” sex. The only safe sex is with your hand. There is risk involved in the play I do and I acknowledge it and try to minimize it. I do not have a desire to play with people who are in denial about said risk.

Gloves… ok honestly we probably won’t be 100% sticklers about gloves but we do use them in party environments because they are safer and more hygienic in a group atmosphere.

Condoms are not negotiable.

I have HPV. I have tested clean since 2003, but technically you always kinda have it? I am very very very upfront with this information. I am happy to provide you with access to information. You are an adult and you make your own decisions based on how much of a risk you are willing to take. Given the prevalence of HPV I think it isn’t that big of a deal, but I don’t have to live in your body for the next umpteen years and you do. I never want someone to regret having been intimate with me and I will defer to the stricter preference for barriers. I also test positive for HSV1, commonly known as oral herpes. I have had a few cold sores as an adult but they are rare and I feel them coming.

4. Foreplay

a. Breasts

This is really funny… but I feel like I should start tracking this on my period application on my phone. How much breast stimulation, and what kind, varies dramatically through the month. There are days when I will claw your eyes out if you brush near them too hard. There are days when I really want gentle stimulation and lots of it. There are days I want to be hurt very badly. Sigh. I married the most wonderful, flexible guy.

I love playing with breasts/tits. I like on the rough end but I’m not married to it.

b. Ways to turn me on

First and foremost: talk to me. Tell me how hot you think I am. Tell me what you want to do to me. Tell me what you are doing while you are doing it. Just hearing you narrate how wet I am when you slide your finger into my cunt will increase the quantity of wetness. Read me porn. Have me read you porn. My brain is the most potent sexual organ in my body. Pay attention to it. Do you know why I like having sex with my friends? Because the ones I have sex with are the ones who have spent years buttering me up talking about what they like from sex.

Stroke my legs, particularly behind my knees. It is very easy to turn me on when I am lying on my stomach and my legs and back are stroked lightly. This is by far the most sensuous activity for me. I love having my neck and head stroked gently. It’s not a massage–it’s… waking up sensual contact.

Biting is hard. I like it but I get hurt really badly too easily in a way that causes me to go to dark mental places and I dissociate. It isn’t off the table… but it’s complicated. Be really careful. Watch me. Make sure I am still “there”.

Tell me how to please you. I love having someone tell me how to get them off—it will usually be enough to get me off. An awful lot of what I get out of sex with people other than my husband is that thrilling feeling of, “Hey here is someone I haven’t practiced on for years and I’m still talented enough to get them off. Yay!” So lots of instructions about what you want and how you want will… turn me into butter. (Once you have permission to talk to me like this. If I indicate a boundary you had better back off like you hit an electric fence or you’ll get the full taser.[not literally])

B. During Sex

1. Oral sex

I like giving blowjobs. A lot a lot a lot. I like them the most if there is some degree of being “forced” involved. I’m not talking about serious forcing, but pushing my head down on your cock is going to get me all wet. Telling me to suck your cock will get me all wet. Asking me politely if I would mind will probably cause me to lose interest in giving you oral sex. If I do it at all it will be a lackluster job and I dislike performing poorly. OH! These suggestions apply to people I have already had sex with. If I have not had sex with you, you bloody well need to ask. For those of you who have already had sex with me, guiding my head down slowly is giving me plenty of time to say, “Not today.”

For the record: if I have given you a blow job I consider you one of my sexual partners. None of this “oral sex doesn’t count as sex” crap. Don’t bloody ever tell me that we haven’t really had sex. You have fucked my body and probably (hopefully) come inside me. We have had sex. Sure, it was a different hole. Whoopie. It was still penetrative sex. Don’t worry about asking me if it is ok to come in my mouth. If I like you enough to let your dick in my mouth, I’m happy to have you come. I do prefer being told when it is happening so I can synch my breathing, but it is just a preference.

I do have a strong gag reflex and if I seriously fight to bring my head back after you have forcibly shoved my head down on your cock… let me go. I may be on my way to run to the bathroom and vomit. It has happened. It will probably happen again. I’m ok with this. Please don’t let the possibility of this happening prevent you from fucking my mouth with enthusiasm. It is great for me. This being said, I’m not terribly thrilled with having a relationship centered solely around me giving blow jobs. I will eventually feel kind of used (after a year of being in that kind of relationship I really didn’t like him anymore and I didn’t like me much more).
I haven’t played with someone who had a cunt in many years. Sigh. I remember them fondly.

Also: I really like getting oral sex while wearing a strap on. That is fucktastically hot.

2. Positions

I am old, cranky, and in chronic pain. There are times when I am up for acrobatic porn-star sex. There are days when it is, “I am here. What more do you want from me?” I can be fun enough whatever my range for the day. But you will have to respect where my body is on a given day. Your fantasies take a back seat to my physical limitations.

3. Vibrators

In this post kid era, there are times when penetrative sex alone is not enough to get me off. Mr Hitachi, however, never lets me down. (Well, Mr. Hitachi IV is dying a pathetic death right now so he is in fact letting me down. But I have Mr. Hitachi V lined up and he is just dreamy.) I think the point of me having sex is so that I can get off. I know that other people have different beliefs about the purpose of sex, that is fine for them. I’m here to get off. If I’m not going to get off with you alone I will not hesitate to whip out my friend. Don’t worry. You will like the feeling of me orgasming enough to get over your ego at not being able to do it alone. It isn’t you. My body is kinda annoying at this stage. (For the record, when I want to be fucked while using a vibrator I almost always want to be face down.)

4. Bondage

Complicated. Once upon a time I spent a lot of time tying people up and being tied up. It isn’t really Noah’s thing so I don’t really do it any more. But I miss it fiercely. I really like being tied up. I really like being suspended. I really really like being suspended and fucked. Oh the good old days.

5. Group sex
Why yes, I would love to engage in group sex. Thank you for asking. I will make everyone talk more than they feel comfortable talking about wants, limits, permission, consent, etc. Because I need to hear all of those things said out loud. But then hell yeah.

6. D/s

What a difference ten years makes. Wow. Reading my old section here…. delete.

I am in a marriage that has power differential within tightly negotiated boundaries as we model a highly egalitarian marriage in front of our children. It will change after they grow up and we don’t have to look like such nice people any more. We have plans. Ahem.

I uhm, appear to have distinct interest in exactly one submissive man. How the hell did that happen? So I’m really not hunting for more in that department. I think my dance card will be full.

If I am playing with you on a more one-off basis it is very ok to negotiate for a D/s dynamic and tell me what kinds of things you fantasize about. I can be almost anyone for an hour.

7. Pain

Post-children my body has changed dramatically and I honestly don’t know what I like. Well, I know I still like single tails and canes. Those are my perennial favorites. My husband doesn’t know how to use a single tail. Do you? Choking is completely off the table. I have pre-stroke symptoms that are very concerning and I have young children. We cannot risk my life.

8. Care of the delicate bits

Due to some of the stuff that happened when I was very young I have a whole lot of scar tissue throughout my vagina/labia/anus. Scar tissue is like a dotted line in the skin that means, “Please tear here.” Despite my very strong desire for rough, and rougher, and rougher sex… I can’t actually handle all that I would like to handle. (Damnit.) Don’t pull roughly on my labia. Don’t pull my ass cheeks apart with any speed or force. Just DON’T. I will tear open and it will hurt and hurt and that will mostly curtail sex for hours if not days. It sucks ass and so I try to avoid massive tearing. Gentle handling of the bits is important.

That is the paragraph from the pre-kids era. The only update I will give to that is: having children did do some work to break up the internal scar tissue inside my vagina. (Hurray!) But I am still delicate in a way you would not expect from someone with my overall temperament. I’m a fragile toy. Treat me with care.

C. After Sex/play

Immediately after sex/play I will want to breathe and hug for a few minutes. I will want a check in email afterwards for any bdsm play–I do not need it for vanilla sex. I like being friends with people but that has to happen around my schedule. It is highly limited. I’m not rejecting you. I’m dealing with the fact that right now my life is about figuring out how to be healthy around my kids and that is much harder for me than you might think. It takes a lot of time and energy. It is very important to me that I do this right. It will remain my focus for quite some time.

The world is burning down.

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There are bombings all over the world in the last few days. People are dying from no reason bigger than hatred that some people think differently.

There was an earthquake in Japan.

I’m… at Knott’s Berry Farm. Well, I was.

And now I’m rocking and crying. Today was horribly triggering. But it feels so very selfish and stupid and petty. God, my whole life is pretty fucking ridiculous these days. Yeah, it will take a whole book to figure out why this trip was worth this for me.

We get home in seven days. I’m triggered as all fuck. This place is hurting me.

We had a wonderful day. I completely held it together. I mediated like a god damn champ when they had a hard time.

And now I’m rocking and hurting because keeping it together today was so god damn hard.

That’s where my father used to finger me. I haven’t been there in more than ten years. I actually come to SoCal pretty frequently. I choose to not go there most of the time.

So, the song I’m listening to on repeat is this one.  

That’s my mood right now.

I think that I’m going to finally find the motivation to get the money from my father’s money that the state is holding. It has waited a lot of years. I think I’m ready to take my payment for what he put me through.

I don’t think the kids know how upset I was. I think I did well. They both gushed all the way back to the hotel about how absolutely fantastic today went. And I really agree.

But there is that part of me and this part of me and today I realized that I… completely missed the anniversaries this year. I think this is the first year I’ve ever just sailed right the fuck past them without noticing.

Am I who I thought I would be by 33?

Is my daddy still the monkey on my back?

What the fuck did I learn out in the Wild Wild West? Oh. Lots.

Hungry for a life I’m not ready to begin.

But it’s time to start anyway.

What does it mean. How forking shallow is it. I don’t know. I don’t know.

You know, it is fucking awesome that I learned how to cry completely silently a long time ago. Otherwise this crying in the room with the kids thing would be pretty fucking awkward.

I’m sorry James. I had to.

I hurt. I shouldn’t be typing nor looking down. And I should be sleeping.

But crying alone is hard. Thank you for keeping me company, internet. I love you.

Noah. I have so many stories.

My fingers hurt.

Must haz self control. Seven more days.

It was really hard going through layer after layer of memories of my father. I think they have substantially changed the area where he used to sit me on his lap. I want to write more. The basic allusion to this is in the book. But oh.my.god I could give a lot more details. Especially right this moment.

I’m having some really really really really really really really big feelings. And I have to just calm right the fuck back down and go to sleep. Tomorrow I have work to do. It is not yet time for me to rest. Only seven more days.

Almost home

Record keeping

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Shanna asked me if she is tall. I said, “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” She is 51.25″ tall. For her age (7) she is in the 92% for height. I feel comfortable saying, “Yes. You are tall.” Even though, technically, if you are within the 95% then you aren’t considered “above average”. Still. If you are taller than 9/10 I think you are tall. Her weight has sat right at 50 pounds for a long time.

Calli is 45″ tall and that puts her in the 96% for height. She is 39.4 pounds. That bump up to 40 just isn’t happening no matter how much ice cream I give her. Calli is asleep and thus isn’t impressed by her own stature.