I’ve Got the Eye of the Tiger, the Fire

Hello again!  I’m stoked to say that I’m officially down 7.4 lbs as of yesterday’s weigh-in!  I’m also down a whole shirt size and half of a pant size (I didn’t record my starting inches but I wish I had so I’ll be recording those from now on)!

On this journey I’ve decided to try some meal replacement shakes for the days that I’m too busy to eat a good meal which, let’s be honest, happens more than I’d like doing daycare.  I have a friend who sells Shakeology so I decided to look into that; she was kind enough to give me a sample and I will say it was pretty tasty (I made a chocolate pouch with one cup of 1% milk and a few ice cubes) – it was filling and not chalky at all.  Actually, here’s my review:

My Shakeology Review (opens in a new tab)

Ultimately what it came down to is that it’s too expensive.  It works superbly for her and her husband but I just can’t afford it off of a daycare income.  Sooo I started looking at other options and was suggested FitMiss Delight that I could buy on Amazon.  I know a few personal friends who use it and swear by it so that’s what I bought.  With Prime it cost $31 for a 36-serving container, it got here about 18 hours after I ordered it, and I just made my first shake this morning.  Here’s that review:

FitMiss Delight Review (opens in a new tab)

Ultimately, this stuff was AMAZING.  I made it with a scoop of powder, 2/3 c. of 1% milk and 2/3 c. of black coffee (Wegmans brand 100% Arabica Ground Coffee, Traditional, Medium Roast) and hoooo my gosssshhhh it was SO YUMMY!!!

I wasn’t going to do a review but it was just so good that I had to lol.  I also thought that I’d share a current photo of me because you can really see it in my face and that makes me feel good.

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Both pictures are taken without face makeup (I have mascara on a little eyebrow tint in the right picture) and you can see just how clearer my face looks, my jaw line is more pronounced, my cheeks are going down…this is all so exciting!!

I’m probably going to post again soon because I’m doing a very important walk in a week that has a fundraiser and everything so I’ll post either later today or tomorrow.  We’re puppy sitting this weekend so maybe I’ll post tomorrow because three boxers is a tad exhausting lol.

Till then…toodaloo! ❤

I’m a Gentle Parent…Not a Passive One

gentle parenting not passive parenting

I never planned on having kids so, like many non-parent adults, I had views on parenting that I was certain would work best.  Those views were very traditional, strict parenting: spanking, time-outs, yelling, like hell the kid would sleep in my bed, etc.

Then I became a mom.  A mom who suffered from postpartum anxiety and OCD (my post about PPA/PPOCD)) and man, did my views change.  In helping heal my PPA I found that taking a gentle approach to my life truly helped me; I started meditating, I stopped stressing about things I couldn’t control,  I would practice my breathing and control my emotions before I responded to a situation and I found that it worked!  While I still have general anxiety, I’ve learned to regulate it without medication and, for somebody who has been struggling with it for almost 20 years, that’s a big accomplishment.

My daughter was very attached in her infancy; I had to babywear if I didn’t want to listen to her scream because if she wasn’t near me then she was just miserable!  I found that I loved babywearing, though, so it turned out to be a win for both of us.  As she got older and more mobile it became harder to wear her while trying to do things around the apartment so she’d just follow me and scream, out of frustration I’d yell at her to leave me along for five minutes, if she touched things she wasn’t supposed to I’d smack her hand.  Every time I did something like this the look on her face would break my heart but it’s the only thing I ever knew in regards to “discipline” and teaching.  She was a very high-needs baby, but also very sensitive, and that has carried on with her now that she’s a preschooler.

One day we were getting in the car at the mall after a play group and after telling her to wait by the car while I loaded in the little boy I watched my daughter darted into the road and a car had to swerve to miss her!  She thought it was funny and giggled as she ran, but out of complete fear I raised my hand and I spanked her butt.  I hit my child.  I was angry and so scared, more scared than I had ever been in my life, but I hit her.  I buckled her into her seat and I sat outside my car and I cried.  Man did I cry so hard.

While most people will read that and think, “Good, she deserved a pop for that!” I am still feeling guilt because of it.  It broke me.  I was spanked as a child and I grew to fear those spanked me.  I never felt respect for them, I never felt that I learned anything, I grew to be cautious of them; if I stepped out of line or said the wrong thing I could get hit.  I never wanted that for my child but there I was, hitting her in a parking lot.

Something needed to change after that.  I started applying my “gentle life” techniques to my parenting and it was like an instant change in our daughter.  She started listening more, she was more curious about life and was much more excited to show me things that she found in her world, we were interacting on a different level and it was incredible, I don’t even really know how to describe it.

I’ve shared that I’m a SAHM/childcare provider, my husband works long hours and, as a result, isn’t around much so it took a long time for our daughter to get used to him.  For the first year and a half of her life he was active duty but then after he got out of the USMC he took another government job with equally as long hours, often getting OT on the weekends.  Charlotte wouldn’t go to him much, she was wary of him because he has a strong presence; a stone face, doesn’t show much emotion, strong voice, and loud when worked up about something.  He was raised in that traditional, strict home as well and then joined the Marine Corps. where emotion was pretty much banned, so, in a nutshell, the man is far from Mr. Rogers lol.

I’ll never forget the day that he and I reached our breaking point in parenting.  While I had started to filter gentleness into my style, he remained the strict one.  We were packing our apartment to move to our first house and our stress levels were much higher than usual; Charlotte happened to touch something that my husband didn’t want her to and instead of saying, “Lets not touch that, we could get hurt,” he shouted, “NO!!” and smacked her hand and snatched up the case she had touched.  Instantly she came screaming to me, red, puffy cheeks and eyes, shouting, “Daddy scare me!”  He heard it.  As I hugged her and calmly said, “Daddy didn’t want you to get hurt,” she just cried and wailed, “No, daddy scare me!”  He acted preoccupied but I could see that her words were hurting him.

yelling silences message

That moment caused a fight between my husband and I (and in our five years together I can count our fights on one hand).  I described his actions as listening to a TV when the volume is too high: you can hear the noise but the words aren’t clear.  That’s what was happening with our toddler, a tiny human who was still learning how things work – she was exploring and instead of learning why not to do something, she was basically told to fear it because she couldn’t understand the message.

Since that day I’ve noticed an incredible change in my husband.  He is so much more patient with our daughter, he takes the time to show her how things work and explain why we do things.  He even invites her into the garage (his personal sanctuary) so they can work on his project truck together.  We had snow a few months ago and he went outside and built a snowman with her.  He encouraged her walk along side him while he put some chemicals on the lawn last weekend.  She gets so excited when she wakes up and realizes that he’s still in bed and not at work, because it means she gets to hang out with him.

I know that it made him sad that our daughter was scared of him for so long, his family would comment on it, he even made a remark to a friend of ours at a Fourth of July BBQ that our daughter would never want him to play with her the way our friend’s son was playing with her husband.  I’m so glad to say that in under a year that has changed all because of his new gentle approach to parenting.

We are often criticized for our choice to not spank or yell, because we choose not to isolate our daughter in time-out, that we still hug her when she’s sad or hurt or scared, but to those people I say, “Oh well.”  We are raising a child who is confident in her choices, who knows that it’s okay to be wrong from time to time, a child who isn’t afraid of an accident.

be it to teach it

I found this quote recently and I quite like it:

“When a child hits a child, we call it aggression.
When a child hits an adult, we call it hostility.
When an adult hits an adult, we call it assault.
When an adult hits a child, we call it discipline.”
– Haim G. Ginott

I would love to hear your thoughts on this subject.  Were you spanked as a child?  How do you feel about it?  Do you spank as a parent?  Have you asked your child what they think about being hit?  I hope y’all have a great weekend!  ❤

“After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

I started reading Harry Potter 17 years ago, at the same age Harry was when he and his peers started Hogwarts. I remember exactly where I was when I started reading it (in the car on the way to an amusement park), who I was with (my best friend at the time, Lisa), and how I felt (annoyed at first because I forgot a book for our hour drive but I was sucked in quickly). I grew up with the characters in those books.  I was picked on so often growing so I had such a connection to Harry, Ron, and Hermione because they were picked on, too.  I adored them, their talents and quirks, their friendship.

I remember where I was when I learned about Professor Severus Snape’s true identity (on the way to a camping trip in the Thousand Islands), who I was with (my boyfriend and some mutual friends), and how I felt (I was sobbing uncontrollably!). I had already graduated high school at this point and my car full of friends was teasing me about crying over “kid books” but Harry Potter, Hogwarts, was always my happy place. As Dumbledore said, I entered a place that was entirely my own.  They offered me the magic that my life lacked.  

Reading the news yesterday morning and seeing that Alan Rickman passed away just broke my heart, there is no other way to describe it.  It was like a piece of my childhood was gone.  It’s kind of poetic, in a way, that he passed after a battle with cancer.  You’re probably wondering, “Poetic?!  What the hell is lady thinking?!” but let me explain.

Voldermort was the death of the series and Snape worked with him as long as he could, he manipulated his odds against the monster, he shaped lives in the process, mine included, and he taught lessons that many will pass on.  In the end, though, the monster may have taken his life but Snape won, he was the bravest man we knew.  Alan Rickman made such an impact in the world that many generations are feeling the impact of his passing.

I was telling my dad about how sad I am about Rickman’s passing and he asked, “You still like that stuff?!” It was the perfect time to give the best answer…

Always ❤

RIP Alan Rickman

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Oh My Gosh, Becky, Look at That MOM!!!

Hey hey hey!  I was told not to do a post like this because it’s so controversial and it would immediately turn people away from wanting to read my blog at all and make them hate me.  Extreme much?  As much as I appreciate you reading my blog, I do it for me so if you don’t like this one I’m sorry, but feel free to skip it 🙂

I’m going to talk about “bad moms.”  In mommy world it seems like this giant battle where we’re all against each other instead of trying to help each other.  Silly me…I always thought it was the latter.  I quickly found out that I was doing things wrong from the start.  I mentioned in another post that I delivered in a military hospital, so all of my prenatal care was done in the same setting.  I didn’t do any prenatal classes (like Lamaze) or anything, I just read a lot of books, because the closest base I could do them at was 90 minutes away.  Strike one.  Then, I was induced instead of going into labor naturally.  Strike two.  That one, though, they kept insisting I had gestational diabetes even though I passed all of my blood tests (I even had a diabetic kit that I used to test at home and still passed!  Except that one time I binged on ice cream and pretzels…), but they kept telling me my baby was pushing nine pounds and if I went the full 40 weeks she’d absolutely be over ten.  So they induced me at 39 weeks and 1 day.  My baby was born at 7 lbs. 10 oz.  Anyway..that was strike two.  Then after 27 hours of labor – yes, 27 HOURS OF LABOR with two epidurals that DID NOT WORK, I had an emergency c-section.  It doesn’t matter that both my and my daughter’s BPs were dropping and I was starting to black out, the fact that I had a c-section at all is strike three.  So, by the time my daughter was born I already had three strikes against me!

Lets not forget that I used formula (in my defense I tried breast feeding, and after three months was still only producing an ounce each time – which my daughter did get, turns out my prolactin levels were all sorts of messed up), I co-slept, I did baby-wearing, attachment parenting, I used jarred food, I do not like (actually, I HATE) the cry-it-out method (oh, excuse me, that’s called “ferberizing”), I use disposable diapers.  So that’s more strikes against me.

I find it funny that I actually felt the need to defend myself for having used formula.  That’s what other moms do to you!!!!

I remember one time I was returning a ton of breastfeeding stuff to Babies R Us, all of it was unopened and I had the receipts for it, but the cashier looked at me then at my daughter and went on to tell me, “You know..breast is best.  It’s much healthier for babies.  It makes them live longer.”  I was so taken aback and upset about her comment that I made up a terrible lie to make her feel even guiltier about why I was returning this stuff.  I think my awful lie is excusable since she just butted into my business like it was hers.  Another time I was at Food Lion buying groceries and a lady commented on the shape of C’s head, “Oh surely she was a c-section baby..her head is just so round!”  What in the world makes people think they can talk to you about this stuff?!  I looked at her and responded with, “Well actually, after about 18 hours of labor she descended, ready to come out, but got stuck because she twisted her body.  The lightening crotch I experienced during pregnancy was nothing compared to feeling a human get stuck in the birth canal!  Since she was stuck for so long she had this horrible cone head, but the doctors were able to help mold it to the correct shape.”  She turned so white.  But really, if she wanted to get in my business I’d share the juicy details that even I don’t like thinking about just to make her uncomfortable.  I know…mature.

I’m a SAHM, too, so that’s another strike.  However, if I was a working mom that’d be a strike so there’s really no winning on that topic.  I tried to join a few mom groups in the area because I really didn’t have any friends here (I don’t know if I mentioned it before but we moved to Virginia for my husband’s duty station so I didn’t know many, hardly any, people here) and I wanted to be able to socialize C as well as myself.  Well I tried one that was a walking group through a historical part of town – I figured moms, exercise, scenery..it’d be great!  No.  It was not great.  I was glared at because I didn’t have a jogging stroller and then they left me in the dust because apparently “walking group” means “steady jogging group” and I wasn’t even fully healed yet and I just don’t run.  So after a few times doing that I just gave up.  The moms didn’t even bother greeting me anymore when I showed up so it was clear I wasn’t welcome in their clique.  Then I tried another group in the area and they walk around the mall on Fridays then let the kids play in the play area, so I figured that’d be a safe bet, right?  No.  The first one I went to they barely spoke to me gossiped amongst themselves.  Whatever, I was new.  The next week I came and they all were trash-talking another mom who wasn’t there and then looked at me and very dramatically said, “Oh, don’t think we’re always like this..but this woman!” and went on to talk more.  Real classy, huh?  The final straw was when I invited a fellow mom I had met a few weeks before so that I’d at least have somebody to talk to when I walked.  This was frowned upon so much by the other moms and I was told, “That’s not allowed at all, you have to get permission to invite her!” so I said fuck it and we walked on our own, I never returned to another group with them again.  I tried a third group and they required I join this site where I pay a membership fee (only $20 annually) and then I had to host two playgroups each month, including one weekend day, and they got together 2-3 times each week.  I lived in a two bedroom apartment, there was no way I was hosting that much, especially on a weekend when it was my only time for my family to get together.  So that didn’t work.

Now that my daughter is two I get criticized because she’s not baptized, I don’t think that we’re going to do a preschool (actually, I’m near certain that we just won’t), I still haven’t left her with anybody, I won’t pierce her ears until she asks me to and is old enough to clean them herself, I still don’t let her cry-it-out, we still co-sleep, I just do what works for her and for myself and, really, that’s all any mom should do.

Unless your child is in harm’s way, I don’t care how you parent.  If you want to breastfeed in my living room, do it.  If you want/need to work, go for it.  I’ll offer to watch your child.  If you need to vent about how long your child has been crying and you haven’t showered in three days and there’s dirty dishes in the sink and two-day-old laundry in the washer and you’re just so tired…go for it.  I get it.  I can relate.  I am here for you.

We’re parents.  We need to stick together.  We need to help each other out.  Who the hell cares how you’re parenting?  If they don’t care for your child 24/7 then fuck their opinion.  You do what works for you and for your family.

I will not judge you for how you parent.  Unless you use your car seat wrong.  In that case I’ll offer to help you fix it, give you ways on how to improve the situation, but if you don’t then you’re failing your child.  Car seat safety is so important.

Other than that..you do you, boo.  And have fun because being a parent is so amazing and so rewarding 🙂 ❤

Happy trails, parents.

Daddy Issues

My dad has always been a drinker for as long as I can remember.  It wasn’t until the past few years, though, that I realized exactly how much.  He and my mom were never married and she left him in the early 90s – shortly after my brother was born.  She met M, my stepdad, they dated for a while, moved in together, and then he proposed.  She didn’t tell me about it, though, I found out because I saw a new ring on her finger and, as a curious 6 year old, I asked about it.  Anyway, I always thought my dad was cool because he let me do anything.  He let me play with tools, drive his truck, drive the lawn mower, play football in the house, etc.  As I got older, though, he kept up with that and would provide cigarettes and alcohol to my 14 year-old-self.

I remember my mom’s lawyer pulling up to the house one day before we moved in with M.  I remember her asking me if I wanted my mom’s last name or my dad’s last name (when I was born I had my mom’s because he refused to accept that I, a girl, was his but when my brother came he insisted his name be passed down and my mom said only if I could have his last name, too.  So that decision fell into the hands of a child); I chose his last name because I’d be living with my mom so, in my adolescent eyes, it was only fair.  Aside from the simplicity of the spelling, I wish I never made that choice.

My mom was granted sole custody and we were supposed to be able to see him every other weekend, plus he was to pay $50/month for two kids in New York state.  I think he stopped paying child support when I was around ten or so, and he saw us so infrequently that when my brother was six (the age I was when they split up) he asked our father during a rare visit, “So…you’re my real dad, huh?”  To this day my father wonders why there’s a nearly nonexistent relationship with his son.

There were so many times that I’d pack my bags for the weekend and I’d sit on the front stop with my duffel and my black teddy bear (a gift I got from my father for my fourth Christmas…the only gift he’s ever given me) and I’d wait.  And wait.  And wait.  My mom would bring me my lunch on the cold stone steps and tell me that maybe he got stuck in traffic, maybe he had to work, she’d suggest I go play with friends and she’d call me as soon as he got there.

He never came and she never talked bad about him.  I’ll respect my mother forever because of that.  She let me, and my brother, form our own opinions about the man who fathered us.

I was 18 when I graduated high school and I was proud of myself, I wanted my family there.  I invited my dad, too, even though he lived about an hour from the venue.  He promised he’d be there.  He wasn’t.  So I was angry with him, as to be expected, and I distanced myself from him.  The distance could only last so long, though, because a month later I was set to travel to Costa Rica with my paternal grandparents and him (they wanted to celebrate their 50th anniversary and paid for their children and their families to visit a fun country).  The trip itself was beautiful, the country, food, culture, wildlife, everything was exceptional and I will forever be grateful to my grandparents for providing me with such a memorable experience, but my father ruined a lot of it for me.

We flew out of the Boston and had to drive from our home in Western NY to the Massachusetts coast to get to my grandparents.  My father, never without a drink, decided to leave on our eight hour journey in the late evening to drive throughout the night, so we could arrive at breakfast to spend extra time together before the trip.  His car broke down before we even got out of the state and the tow truck brought us to the nearest hotel.  That hotel, however, wouldn’t let us stay there because my father had no money and I was under 21.  Since good ol’ dad was clearly intoxicated the night clerk even locked us out!  My father passed out on the bench outside, leaving me and my 12 year-old brother to sit on the gravel, alone, in the middle of the night.

Not a lot of people believed me when I told them about it but I recently found this photo in my Costa Rica photo album – my father passed out on a bench in front of that hotel.

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His parents were certain I lied to them about this incident so they told me never to bring it up again.  In Costa Rica my father would down bottles each day of vodka, charge drinks to the room I happened to be staying in so that I’d be blamed for the upcharges to the rooms that my grandfather was paying for, then on the flight back he punched me in the side of the head because I told him I wouldn’t smuggle a bottle of vodka from the duty-free shop in my dress.  He then told my grandparents that I was, indeed, trying to bring home liquor and that he was trying to prevent me from it.

They believed him.

So years went by and we’d talk on the obligatory holidays, we’d never see each other.  I was finally starting to see my father for the man he was – a stupid, rude, careless drunk.

In 2009 a very close friend of mine lost his father to brain cancer.   On his deathbed he told me that he wanted me to rekindle a relationship with my father, so after his funeral I did that…I called my father for the first time in almost five years.  Guess what happened?  He told me he, too, had cancer.

So, because I felt like I owed it to my friend’s father, I stood by my dad’s side through his whole ordeal.  His alcoholism hindered much of his recovery and he spent two months in a medically induced coma.  By the time he left the hospital he was, for the first time in my life, 100% sober.

That lasted until he got home.

That was six years ago and he’s recently done another two months in the hospital that sobered him up again.  He was supposed to go to a rehabilitation center upon discharge but the occupational therapy team deemed he was competent enough to go home.  Keep in mind, he had pumped them full of lies and was sober while they were observing him so of course things seemed okay.  I warned them that if they discharged him to his apartment that he’d be drunk again before nightfall.  They did it anyway and guess what?  He’s back to drinking.

His recent adventure is that he was given a DWI.  FINALLY!!!!  He’s orchestrated this lie that is so detailed that I’m actually amazed by it myself.  I hope that his lawyer, the prosecuting lawyer, and the judge all look into said story because he deserves this charge.  He deserves to lose his license.  I’m honestly surprised he is still alive.

I realize this is way longer than any of my other posts thus far, but it’s something that’s been plaguing me for years.  Nobody really talks to me about it except my uncle (who I’ve recently formed a relationship with since my father’s most recent hospital visit and he’s really cool, I’m so glad to have him be a part of my life) and he feels awful for me which isn’t what I want.  It’s nice, though, to have somebody else who sees my dad the same way I do.

I think that having an alcoholic father helped me become who I am.  I battled my own demons and addictions, but at this point in my life I know who I am and who I don’t want to be.  He is a huge reason for my choice in abstaining from alcohol.  I don’t ever want to look like him and I don’t want my daughter to see me that way.  I hate that she’s going to know her grandfather in that way.

I think that’s a good amount of reality for now.  I’ll be back, though 🙂

Happy trails ❤

Skin Tag….You’re It!!

I’m not sure if it’s common to write as often as I am, especially since this is my second post just today, but it’s my blog so I suppose I can do what I want.  Plus, if things are funny or interesting you’re bound to come back and read more, right?

Well here’s a funny thing that my daughter does.  I have this little pink skin tag that’s been on my chest for as long as I can remember.  It’s over near my left arm below my pit but before my boob – kind of where the point of a bra sits.  Well, C is so mesmerized by it!  When she’s flustered or upset she searches for it and will just flick it around, when she’s tired she’ll pull my shirt away from that spot and lay on it lol.  The other day I was watching my friend’s daughter (who just shy of one) and man was C jealous that baby M was near my skin tag lol.  I had to switch arms so that C could access my tag and baby M wasn’t near it 😛

I have another small skin tag on the back of my neck and she has no interest in that.  However, as I’m typing this I remember one that my biological father has on his back; his skin tag is about the same size, shape, color…it’s just smack dab in the middle of his back on his spine.  I remember being younger and flicking it around when he was shirtless (and if you met my father you’d know that was quite often…I should write about him…man that’d be cathartic!).  I always looked at it as something that made my dad HIM.  I wonder if that’s how C looks at me and my little skin tag.

Honestly, growing up, it always made me self-conscious because I didn’t want people thinking I had a third nipple (like Chandler and his nubbin…anybody?  Friends? haha) but now that I am a mom, this little quirk really drives home that my daughter loves all of me, even the little things I think are flaws.

Awww the warm fuzzies 🙂

Anywho…enjoy your nights!

Happy Trails 😉

Trapped in a Car

Hey all. So I’m trapped in the car right now because C and R fell asleep after playgroup and it’s pouring outside! So while they nap I am hanging out in the driver’s seat eating my McDonald’s french fries while  they’re still hot!  Talk about awesome.

I was going to stop at Starbucks on my way to playgroup (hear me out) because Dunkin has just been letting me down lately with messing up my coffee order. However, I got there and there were 14 cars in line.

14!!!!!  With two antsy toddlers in the car that’s not about to happen.

No.

Ahhh C is awake. I’m free!

27 minutes later – I’m inside, the kids are eating lunch, so I thought I’d add more 🙂 

Okay whew!  That was a tumultuous 27 minutes.  Have you ever had a still-tired, really hungry two-year-old around you?  Whoa baby.  It’s like a zombie that cries.

Anyway, I took a personality test today (here: http://www.spring.org.uk/test/one-minute-personality-test-introvert-extrovert) and it was really accurate!  I know I’m an introvert, there’s no hiding that, but I get really sick of hearing people tell me that I’m just shy, or I’m weird, or I need to come out of my shell, or I need a drink to lighten the mood (I don’t drink).  They all bug me to no end and really just lead me to start disliking a person because of it.  But here are my results:

Results
High introvert

You are more introverted than at least 70% of people — even more than that if you scored lower than a 12.

Your exact score is shown at the bottom of the page. It’s a number out of 40.
The average score is 20 and most people (40%) score around this number.
That makes them ‘ambiverts’, which means they swing both ways.
You, on the other hand, are an out-and-out introvert.
That doesn’t mean you don’t have a few louder moments, just that your tendency is strongly towards introversion.

What is an introvert?

Being highly introverted means you’re more likely than most others to be reflective and reserved.
You probably prefer a relatively low degree of external stimulation.
You are generally at home with your own thoughts.
Likely, you have a few close friends but parties, business meetings and large social gatherings are where you generally feel least comfortable.
Others may mistake your introversion for shyness — introverts may be shy, but many do not fear social encounters, they just get less out of them than more extroverted people.
Typically enjoyable activities for introverts include reading, writing, hiking, fishing and using computers.
Studies have suggested introverts tend to wear less decorative clothing, listen to less upbeat music and discourage interactions with others more regularly.
Being introverted has been linked to higher intelligence and less delinquent behaviour.

Extroversion/Introversion

7 out of 40
Extroversion and introversion run along a continuum like all personality traits.
That means it’s possible to be a little introverted/extroverted or a lot, or in the middle.
The closer your score is to 40, the more extroverted you are.
The closer your score is to 0, the more introverted you are.
The average score is 20 and most people (40%) score around this number.
While I know this is just an internet quiz (written by Dr. Jeremy Dean) it’s still interesting to read, hopefully doubters of my introversion will find it just as interesting 😛
I think I’ll keep it at this for now.  As I’m typing I’m coming up with ideas for more posts (literally just stopped typing to write down ideas) so hopefully I’ve piqued your interest and you come back for more 😉
Happy trails!

Aaaaand ACTION!

Hey y’all!  I have finally decided, after 16 months of pondering, to start a blog.  You may be wondering what the heck the name is about and, well, let me tell you a little about me so you can understand.

I’m a very type-A person, OCD, anxiety, the whole shebang.  I thrive on lists.  Lists for everything!  Well then I became a mom.  If you can figure out how to get a toddler to work off the same list I’m using I’d really love to know.  On top of that I do in-home childcare so then I have extra kids to work off my list…you get the idea.

Lists don’t work so often anymore.

That said, at the end of the day, my sentences don’t often make sense, I am yearning for human interaction (which I may count this blog as my interaction..it works, right?), and I have glue and glitter in places that it shouldn’t be.

Alas, yogacups and coffeepants is born.  In case you need me to explain a little further, it’s a cliche that all SAHMs live in yoga pants and, well, I fit that stereotype lol.  I’m often seen with a coffee, but don’t mistake me for one of those moms who carries a Starbucks cup around..no no..not that swanky.  I often settle for my home-brewed cup in my Mr. Coffee 12-cup coffee maker.  We have a great relationship.

So I should warn any of you readers, I am sarcastic and have a dry sense of humor, I have a stir-the-pot mentality, and I love to question people and have nice, hearty discussions.  I felt like a blog would be a good thing for me because I’ve always been a writer, I miss writing so much that I think about it, dream about, and lately I’ve had some instances that almost seemed like signs that I needed to start.  So here I am.  I may write about some boring things to others, but interesting to me.  I’ve been thinking about doing some poetry reviews (because I love poetry), I may post funny memes, frustrations from my day, anything that comes to mind.  Keep in mind, I’m opinionated (what mom isn’t), so I’m sorry if you don’t agree with me but that’s okay..we can still talk about it!

I’m also aware that my style of writing is not an editor’s dream, and I’m okay with that.  This blog is written as if I’m speaking it out loud.

Soooo now that I got a nice little intro out, my daughter is snuggling up to me and I think I’m going to take advantage of this.

Happy trails!