Freedom of Speech

I do my best not to get too wrapped up in popular drama, and internet frenzies. But sometimes, I get a little fired up, and feel compelled to offer up my two cents. Today is one of those days...
So far today, I have read COUNTLESS posts and tirades about the fiasco going on with a certain reality TV star. To sum up what happened, this person shared his controversial views and opinions in an interview, and not everyone agreed with what he had to say. People reacted, as they often will, and now the network that supports his show has "grounded" him.
One side is angry at what he said, and the other side is angry that he was punished for saying it. While I have my own opinions on the subject, that is not what this post is about. What this post is about is a phrase I keep seeing thrown around, quite casually. Freedom of Speech. Now this is quite simple. In the good old U S of A, you have the freedom to say whatever the Hell you want. Yup, that's right. So if you want to run outside yelling "I like to eat baby chickens in the nude, while watching Jerry Springer!!" you can. This also means your neighbor has the right to open his door and yell "No one cares, so shut the f*ck up!" right back.
Ahhh... Freedom. It's a lovely thing. But there's just one eensy weensy little catch. HAVING the Freedom of Speech should not always equal EXERCISING it. Now before you get all butt hurt, let me explain.
I have the right to do a lot of things. But that doesn't mean I HAVE to do them. I have the right to bear arms, but I don't really see the need for bear arms. My arms are fuzzy enough. (What? Is that not right?) Anyway, the point is, that while someone has the right to say whatever the heck they want, that doesn't mean they should. Now I'm not saying you should never speak up, or share your opinions (Umm... hello, I have a freaking blog. I obviously like to share my opinions.) but it does mean you should be conscientious about what you say, how you say it, where you say it, and to whom you say it. Why? Because as the old saying goes, "Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one."
This goes double (maybe even triple) for people in certain positions. If you are a well known individual, with a lot of public exposure, you KNOW that anything you say will not only be heard, but analyzed, amplified, and repeated. Is this fair? Eh... that's debatable. But it is fact. So if you choose to share your opinions, especially controversial ones, you can be certain that you will suffer some backlash. Sure, some may agree with you, but others wont. If you are ok with that, and feel it is still worth saying... by all means, have at it. But you better be damn well willing to accept the consequences. Because Freedom of Speech does not equal freedom from judgment, freedom from anger, or freedom from hurt. You know how police say "Anything you say, can and will be used against you."? The same often applies here. So think before you speak.
I wholeheartedly believe in the Freedom of Speech. I believe that everyone has a right to believe whatever they want, and share those beliefs. That doesn't mean I have to agree with them, or listen to them. Because that freedom works both ways. But maybe we need to rephrase it. I think 'Freedom of Speech With a Giant Dose of Common Sense' has a nice ring to it...

My Holidays...

Let me start this by apologizing in advance. I feel the urge to do some serious venting, but I don't want to burden anyone with having to listen against their will, so I am going to do it here, where anyone who wants to, can choose to read it. I am apologizing because this isn't aimed at anyone in particular, and my intent is not to bash anyone, or cause guilty or hurt feelings. I just need to get some things off my chest.
I am a grieving parent. Whether you choose to accept that fact or not is up to you. No, I didn't give birth to my son, but that in no way lessened my love for him. We may not have shared DNA, but what we did share goes even deeper. My loss and my pain are VERY real. What others think and choose to believe means little to me. I know how I feel, no matter how much others wish to diminish my grief. I did not carry my son in my body, but I carried him in my heart and soul, and in every other way possible. I have no other children. He was my one and only, and with his loss came the loss of so much. I am no  longer a mom. While some people will tell you after child loss that you will always be a mother, in my heart I know those are merely words of comfort, not truth. A mother without a child, is just a woman. While my arms still ache to hold my son, and my lips still yearn to kiss his head, or share some maternal wisdom, those urges cannot be fulfilled. While those who've lost a limb describe phantom pains, I too, have phantom pains, for I've lost a part of myself that I will never get back. Every day since he's been gone has been hard. Indeed, some harder than others, but none have been easy. The holidays are some of the hardest. Holidays are for family. They are a time to rejoice and celebrate one another, and to hold close that which we hold dear. I don't want to rejoice. I see no reason for celebration. Instead I want to scream. I want to shout to the Heavens and beg for my son back. My list to Santa is short. I only want one thing. But no amount of begging and pleading will bring him back. There is no magic strong enough to grant that wish for me.
Christmas is a week away. While I choose not to celebrate, that does nothing to lessen my exposure to it. It's everywhere I look. Happy families smiling from the fronts of cards, excited children in the stores, stressed out parents, complaining about not having enough time left. You wanna talk about not having enough time? My SON didn't have enough time. My husband didn't have enough time with his little buddy. I didn't have enough time to tell him how much he meant to me, and how much I loved him. There is no such thing as enough time. I just want to shout "Screw your lists, and your errands! At least you still have your sons and daughters!" I want to... but I can't. It's not fair. I was once a stressed out parent, complaining too. I have no right to shame anyone for just being normal. But that's just it, I'm not normal anymore. THIS is my new normal. Being angry, being sad, being hurt, and overwhelmed.
And the worst part is... no one understands. Unless you've lost a child, you can't begin to relate. All grief is not the same. Period. A parent should NEVER outlive their kids. That doesn't mean your sadness over your loved one isn't real, or hard. It is, believe me, I know. I've lost grandparents, friends, and many loved ones. And I miss them. Sometimes terribly. But what I feel now is in a realm all its own. It is a grief the likes of which are indescribable and unavoidable. And it doesn't lessen over time. In many ways, it only gets worse. I will NEVER come to peace with it. My heart will never recover. You don't "move on" from losing a child. You continue to live. That is all.
So if I seem down, or angry at the holidays, I'm sorry. I do my best to keep it to myself, I really do. But sometimes it can be too much, and I may vent a little steam. I'm not asking you to "fix it", because you can't. Even the most well intentioned ideas, and suggestions will make no difference. I'm only asking you to be patient, be kind, and be compassionate. Please don't tell me that I still have so much to be thankful for, and to "put it into perspective" because I know what I have, and what I've lost, and I've had PLENTY of perspective, thank you very  much. While I may choose not to decorate or send cards, please don't think I expect you to do the same. I want you to be happy. I want you to be excited. I just can't be. Not yet. I am trying, I really am. And please don't stop including me in things. I may not always say no, and the time I say yes, might be the time that makes all the difference.
I miss my son. Every second of every minute, of every day. I want to talk about him. I WILL talk about him. And I want others to talk about him. Especially this time of year. Don't hesitate because you think it will make me sad, or because you think it will be hard on me. I NEED to talk about him, and hear you say his name. I need to know he is still on your mind, because he is ALWAYS on mine.

 

(Our son, Zachary, with his gingerbread train. This pic was taken in 2008.)

Attention Ladies!

I think it's high time I made a post about the ridiculous expectations on women these days. Day in and day out, I see posts, videos, articles, tweets, and more talking about body image, gender roles, etc. I'm about to say something that I will more than likely take a lot of shit for, but here goes...
Women are the biggest source of the problem. Yup, you read that right. In my opinion, we are our biggest enemies. Not the media, not men, not food. Us.
It's a well known fact that females are overly critical of other females. I know this because... Well, I am a female. We will be the first to judge another woman's outfit, job, hair, body, and attitude. Now don't get me wrong, we don't always do this in a negative way, but we still do it. Women are also notorious for comparing themselves to other women. We wish we had their hair, their shoes, their husbands/boyfriends, their boobs, and so on. We are inherently not satisfied with what we have, and so we assume what someone else has is better. But that's wrong. If you have curly hair, you probably wish it were straight. Well, I have straight hair, and I have tried every method in the book to get it curly. If you have big boobs, you wish they were smaller, if you have small boobs, you wish they were bigger. If you have curves, you think you're fat, if you are tall and thin, you must not look womanly enough. Does any of this sound familiar? As females, we put a lot of pressure on ourselves to be perfect, and we often want to blame someone else for this, but is it really their fault? Yes, the media is filled with images of beautiful, flawless women. Because scary monsters don't sell jeans and luxury cars. Does this mean if you don't look exactly like those images, you are bad? Hardly. Does it say that anywhere in those ads? No. So whose fault is it that those images make us feel bad about ourselves? It's ours. WE make ourselves feel bad. Instead of looking at the woman in the ad, and seeing a beautiful model, we see all of our flaws. That's not the ad or the model's fault. That is inside of us. It is a model's job to be beautiful. And it is a photographer's job to make her look as flawless as possible. With the right lighting, editing, and hair & make-up... instant perfection. We KNOW this. Logically, we understand that NO ONE looks that perfect naturally. So why do we expect that from ourselves?
Ladies, I'm going to say something right now that you probably don't want to hear, but that doesn't make it any less true.
We, as a gender, are too sensitive and critical.
We need to stop reading so much into everything, and looking for the problem. If the gal in the Victoria's Secret catalog has a 4 inch thigh gap, and abs of steel, good for her. That's it. That doesn't mean YOU need to have that, and it certainly doesn't mean every man on Earth wants every woman to look like that. Don't believe me? Ask around. Talk to some men, and ask them what they find attractive. I think you'll be surprised. Men aren't NEARLY as critical of women as we are of ourselves. Just like not all women find Brad Pitt and Adam Levine to be perfect specimens, neither do all men find VS models and the Jennifer Anistons of the world to be. But you know what most men DO find unattractive? Self loathing, self pity, and hyper insecurities. While I know it is nice to feel beautiful, and to know that others find you sexy or attractive, it should be MUCH more important that YOU find yourself beautiful. If you are constantly doubting your own worth, then no amount of attention from the rest of the world can change that.
It's time that we as women, stopped blaming everyone else for our issues, and started being truly honest with ourselves. If you hate what you see in the mirror, it's not the fault of the media. If every ad started using plus sized models, all the skinny girls would feel bad about themselves. There is no pleasing everyone. It is absolutely impossible. The ONLY solution is to stop comparing yourself to others. We need to focus only on being the best versions of ourselves. Not the best version of someone else. Whether that means being happy and healthy as a size 2 or a size 20. Or being satisfied and proud of being a stay at home mom, or a working one. It means being able to look at another beautiful woman and think "Wow, she is beautiful." instead of "I wish I looked like her." It means being less judging of other females, and more accepting of ourselves. It means stop looking to blame someone else, and start looking to fix you. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Well... Behold, for you are beautiful.

Twas the Night Before Crapmas... (a poem)

Twas the night before Crapmas, when all through the land,
parents were stressed over children's demands.
The stockings weren't hung, for they were much much too heavy,
filled to the brim, with everything but a Chevy.
The kids were still up, playing Xbox and Wii,
amped up on sugar, junk food, and Pepsi.
The wife was in fits, and I was exhausted,
there was so much to wrap, was that a new faucet?
What is all this stuff? And why did we buy it?
Because the kids asked, so we HAD to supply it?
It seems so extreme, this mountain of toys.
Considering we only have two little boys.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but more bags of crap. How did this all get here?
My wallet was empty, my bank account dry.
I'd need to work overtime from now to July.
More rapid than eagles, my wife she did wrap.
Shouting out orders, and waking me with a slap.
"Hand me the scissors, give me that tape!"
"Where are the bows? Who did we buy a cape?"
This process went on for what felt like a year,
with piles of gifts, some stuck there, some stuck here.
We used all the paper, we ran out of tags,
there seemed no end to the boxes and bags.
And then on the news, we heard them announce,
a sale on ipads, my wife wanted to pounce.
I took a deep breath, and  said with a snap
"Enough is enough! They need no more crap!"
She looked somewhat stunned, her eyes had grown wide.
"But all the other kids have them." was her only reply.
It was then that I knew, we had lost all control.
We'd been sucked into the Crapmas black hole.
I wanted to cry, I wanted to shout,
we'd forgotten what Christmas was really about.
So I made a decision, right there on the spot
to make a big change, if it killed us or not.
I went to my kids, and turned off their game.
I needed to share this before Santa came.
So I told them a story, of a woman named Mary,
and a sweet little baby, that she was to carry.
Their eyes filled with wonder, as I recited the fable,
of the birth of a savior in a humble horse stable.
I spoke of the Wise Men, and the gifts they did bring
and the meaning behind the songs we all sing.
They listened intently, they seemed so impressed,
I'd nearly forgotten all of my stress.
As I tucked in my children, and whispered good night,
I said to my wife "We must make this right."
She nodded agreement, and we knew what to do.
We sorted the gifts, and kept just a few.
I loaded the rest, they nearly filled up the car.
I headed off, guided by the North Star.
I said a prayer, that it wasn't too late,
and hoped that I'd make it in time to donate.
When I dropped off the gifts, to the shelters and poor,
I felt like Saint Nick, bringing joy to their door.
As I drove home that night, 'neath the fresh falling snow,
I could swear that I heard a soft "Ho, ho, ho."
When I pulled in the drive, and started to park,
I saw the flash of a sleigh, taking off in the dark.
My heart filled with warmth, the tears started to pour,
The magic of Christmas had now been restored.
For the first time in years, I laid down with a grin,
I kissed my dear wife, and snuggled right in.
We had done the right thing, of that we've no doubt,
for kindness and love are what it's really about.

The End.
By: Teena M. Hauxwell-Finn (December 13, 2013)

What's in a Name?

My very dear friend, Vanessa, just made a blog post about all this fabulous and wonderful stuff that carries her name. You can read it here. And since she herself is uber fabulous and beautiful, it is only fitting that the things that bear her name should be as well. But this got me to thinking... Is there ANYTHING with my name? Growing up in the 80s, when personalized everything was all the rage, I always came up blank. There wasn't anything. Nada. Squat. Not a pencil, toothbrush, plush toy, or souvenir keychain with TEENA emblazoned in glitter. Occasionally, someone would custom order something with my name, and while I appreciated the effort, it would never be the same as stumbling upon it in the store. So I learned to deal. I accepted my fate, as the girl with the misspelled name.
But now, all these years later, my dear friend has dredged up this yearning from long ago. So I decided to see what Google could offer me, and IF I found anything, would it be as fitting to me, as Vanessa's were to her? This is what I found....

A t-shirt from Cafepress, custom designed, of course, but never the less, still exists. It came up under Halloween costumes, so I can only assume this is for someone who wants to terrify small children and the elderly.

Then I stumbled upon this little gem. Yes, you are seeing that correctly. It's a witch figurine. And a glittery one at that. And there are many more where this came from. Check them out at Teena Flanner Originals on Ebay.

You can only imagine my excitement at finding a BOOK in my name. And while I waited for the description to load, I pondered all the tales it could be. Was I an adventurer like Alice? Or maybe a feisty ginger haired Irish fairy? Turns out, it was even better. I am the star of an erotic novel. Teena A House of Ill Repute by Jennifer Jane Pope. Yup... porn.

And alas... There is the musical legend, Teena Marie. A woman of many talents. She has passed away now, but in her heyday, she was known for her sexy style and sultry songs. This album cover is my favorite. She looks so Hollywood glam here, though she had numerous looks over the years.

So, while my namesakes may not be as lovely and fabulous as Vanessa's, weirdly, they are still fitting. Thanks, V, for inspiring this search, and this post. It was truly educational. And if you want to read more good stuff, head on over to Ready... Dressed....Go! and see what my girl is up to.

Crapmas vs. Christmas: The Great Debate

I consider myself the President and CEO of the Bah Humbug Club. And before you get all sentimental and seasonally cheesy on me and start singing carols, let me explain.
I used to love Christmas. LOVE it. Growing up, Christmas was the most magical time of the year. My siblings and I spent weeks, months even, planning & plotting for the perfect Christmas. We memorized the Toys R Us holiday catalog, and became hint dropping ninjas. We strategized and organized for our early morning plan of attack. (I should point out here that Christmas morning in the Hauxwell house was a bit of a challenge. My father didn't like to get up nearly as early as we did, so he would booby trap the house in order to bust us trying to catch Santa in the act.) Needless to say, it took some military planning on the part of my brothers and I to get to the tree and our stash of goodies before he caught us in the act. But we loved it. We loved everything about Christmas. The beautiful and fun decorations, the singing of carols, the holiday TV specials, the time with family, the delicious treats, and the magic and mystery. All of it.
Then something happened. I grew up. And while I still loved Christmas, I never could recreate the wonder of those childhood times. Then I met my husband, and with our son, Zachary, I found it again. To see the holiday through the innocent eyes of a child is a magic and wonder all its own. We started our own traditions, and shared some of our old ones. Christmas had once again been revived. But, over the years, our son grew up, and lost his youthful Christmas enthusiasm. And after over a decade in the retail industry, I had lost the excitement myself. Christmas just wasn't the same. Sure, it still had its moments of joy, but the magic was long gone. It became more of a chore, than a pleasure. I no longer looked forward to it, rather, I began to dread it. Then we lost our son. Holidays took on a sadness and pain that overshadowed even the best things about the season.
That was when my inner Scrooge really blossomed. It had been growing for quite some time, but that was the straw that broke the reindeer's back. That was also when I realized that it wasn't just me. That somewhere through the years, Christmas had been replaced by Crapmas. I was no longer the only one who wanted to shove Frosty's nose up his frozen backside, and tell the 3 wise men to piss off. It was becoming an epidemic. Bah humbug-itis had spread like wildfire. Which got me to thinking.... What happened? Here is my best answer.
Christmas vs. Crapmas: a comparison
Christmas: A time spent focused on loved ones, making memories that last a lifetime.
Crapmas: A time spent focused on possessions, causing stress.

Christmas: Beautiful lights, and trees decorated with cherished family heirlooms, by loving families.
Crapmas: Competing with your neighbors over who has the best display, and trees decorated to look like store displays, with nothing of sentimental value, by stressed out mothers, who won't let their children touch them.

Christmas: A month of traditional carols that remind us of simpler times, and the real reason for the season.
Crapmas: Three months worth of overplayed, over produced, non traditional songs, that focus on nothing of value.

Christmas: Children writing lists to Santa of gifts they'd love to have, and wondering which, if any, of those things would be under the tree Christmas morning.
Crapmas: Children writing lists to everyone, demanding an endless array of useless and unnecessary items, then being pissed off if every single one of them isn't under the tree Crapmas morning.

Christmas: Relaxing day spent with your family, enjoying each other's company, and basking in the rewarding laughter of happy children.
Crapmas: A rushed, stressed out day, running from one house to another, trying to please everyone else, while making yourself miserable.

Christmas: Taking the time to help out your fellow man. Remembering those less fortunate. Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward man.
Crapmas: Leaving your family early on Thanksgiving to stand in line and fight with other adults over who gets the latest gadgets. Being mobbed and robbed.

Christmas: A holiday celebrating the birth of a noble man, who lived his life to help others, and remind us to be better people.
Crapmas: A holiday celebrating commercialization and greed.

Christmas: A day to give gifts of the heart. Whether they are homemade, or store bought, it doesn't matter, because it is the thought that counts. It was about the giving, not the receiving.
Crapmas: A day to see who loves you the most, based on the quantity of gifts and amount spent. And to return the ones that aren't worthy of your gratitude.

I could go on and on, but the point is, Christmas has changed, and it's only getting worse. The simple, pure, loving holiday that we once knew is gone. We have let the least meaningful and important parts take over, and forgotten the true meaning. And I'm not just talking about Jesus, either. I mean all of it. The wonder, the magic, the joy, and the miracles. The kindness towards one another, and the simple pleasures. We are too busy rushing and stressing about making everything some crazy idea of perfect, that we overlook the genuine perfection right in front of us. The glistening of lights on freshly fallen snow. The wide eyed wonder of children as they search the sky for Santa and his sleigh. The harmony of a church choir as they sing of a humble birth. The taste of freshly baked cookies, warm from the oven, and made with love. Christmas is still all around us, we just don't see it anymore. It's easy to overlook, because it isn't as flashy and loud as Crapmas.
So before you assume the worst of me, and ask me why I'm such a Scrooge, remember... I don't hate Christmas, I hate what it's become.

Elf on the Shelf vs. Gnome in my Home

My obsession with gnomes is no secret. I love them. They bring me endless joy. I have amassed quite a collection, and I can often be found posing them in various situations/costumes and taking their pics. All through the year, I hear endless crap about this. I get everything from "You are seriously crazy." to "Gnomes are SOOOO creepy!" and everything in between. I'm looked at sideways and with questionable glances. Do I care? No. Do I say anything? Well... yes, but mostly just in defense of my pointy hatted friends. But I take the stares, the laughs, the judgment, and I press on. Why? Because it makes me happy, and it's a gosh darn hoot! So I accept my seat on the crazy train, and I enjoy the ride. Though it's mostly a solo journey.
Until December arrives...
Then suddenly, my quiet trip through Nutville is interrupted by a stop at the Bandwagon Express Station, where the train is filled to capacity. These seasonal whackjobs are commonly accompanied by a small creature, dressed in red, with a disturbingly rapey expression on his face. He goes by many names, but his followers know him mainly as.... Elf on the Shelf. This voyeuristic little weirdo is apparently some kind of CIA spy for the big man at the North Pole. He forces his way into your home sometime around Thanksgiving, and proceeds to spend the next month or so digging through all your personal belongings and giving your children nightmares and the promise of years of therapy. But that's neither here nor there.... If you want to have tiny little peeping Tom elves watching you and your hubs do the dirty, well that's your business.
My problem comes when those same folks, who trash talk me for my instability, suddenly want to be all up in the fruitcake. You can say what you want about it "being for the kids" or "just for Christmas", but I know and YOU know that if they made an Elf for Easter, Halloween, Presidents Day, or Chinese New Year, you'd be all over it. But it's ok, I wont judge you. I welcome you into the fold. There are plenty of vacancies here at the Mental Motel, enjoy your stay. But because I take my role as Queen of the Crazies very seriously, I feel the need to point out that MY toys are better than YOUR toys. In that spirit, I bring you....

Elf on the Shelf vs. Gnome in my Home

I shall issue a challenge, right here, right now. All you part time, Christmas kooks bring on your best Elf on the Shelf pics, and I guarantee me & my gnomies can beat them. How can I be so sure? Because gnomes are better. Period. Plus, let's be honest... I can out crazy anyone. Need more proof?

 

 

 

BOOM! Nailed it.



What Romance Means To Me

Yes, I am a female, and no, I do not like romance novels or chick flicks. Contrary to popular belief, not all women think that romance consists of big, dramatic gestures, or making love on rose petal covered silk sheets for hours on end. While that may sound magical to some, to me it just sounds messy and highly conducive to chafing.
I hear so many women say that romance is dead, or that their partner is just not romantic enough, all because they have these, pardon the pun, romanticized ideas of how it is supposed to be. Wake up, ladies. Romance is not like the movies. Nor should it be. While champagne and roses may be nice, they are not the only way someone can show they care. Oh, your spouse doesn't write you love songs, and sing them to you on a candlelit balcony? For shame! You should really hold out for that Romeo that MUST be out there somewhere. It's time to get real, gals. Most men don't think like that. That's just not how they're wired. That doesn't mean your husband or boyfriend doesn't love you, it just means he probably shows it in more subtle ways. Here are some examples of everyday romance that you are probably overlooking:
*He starts the coffee, so it's ready when you wake up.
*He works hard, so that you can have a nice home, car, etc.
*He holds the door for you, and carries your purse & shopping bags at the mall.
*He pulls up to the door when it's raining so you can get out, and then goes and parks the car.
*He starts and/or cleans off your car in the winter.
*He fixes your car, and keeps it running safely and smoothly.
*He lets you tuck your freezing cold feet under him.
*He holds your hand.
*He comes home to you every night, and probably looks forward to it, even though he doesn't say it.
*He remembers what you order at restaurants.
*He smiles at you from across a room.
*He lets you cover the bed and sofa in throw pillows, even though he thinks they are useless, just because it makes you happy.
*He thanks you for making dinner, even when you know it tasted awful.
*He stops to get you tampons or medicine from the store, so you don't have to make a special trip.
*He knows how AND takes the time to give you orgasms.
*He kisses you goodbye when he leaves.
So maybe he sometimes forgets your birthday or anniversary, or doesn't make the biggest deal out of Valentine's Day. Maybe he farts in bed, or feeds the kids too much candy before bedtime. He's not perfect, but neither are you. Romantic gestures don't always have to involve hot air balloons and diamonds. And if you still want or need those things, maybe you should put out the effort. Run a bubble bath and ask him to join you. Turn off the TV, light some candles, and make love on the living room floor. Buy some special oils, and give each other massages. Or just be happy that you have a good partner who loves you, and be grateful for the life you have, and accept that life isn't like the movies.

Happy Birthday in Heaven...

Today would be our son's 20th birthday. The last birthday he celebrated here on Earth was his 18th. He's been gone for 16 months, as of today.
Birthday's are a BIG deal to me. Always have been. They are bigger than holidays or anniversaries. They are each individual's special day. A celebration of the moment in history that you were brought into the world. In that moment, countless lives were altered, paths changed, and a new timeline began. All because of one person's birth. I think we forget that sometimes. We view birthdays as a date on a calendar, or a number of years grown. We brush them off, forget them, or place little to no significance on them. But that day is special. It is the day a life began. And each year should be a celebration of the joy, love, kindness, and wonder that each life has brought. Some people are given many, many years. Others... so few. But regardless of how many you get, each one should be treated with reverence and celebration.
This year, I wanted to honor our son in a special way. I wanted his birthday to mean something. So I asked my loved ones to light a candle in his memory, and send a wish to Heaven.
I was not prepared for the incredible response. As I write this, it is only noon, and already my social media is lit up with candles, photos, angels, and messages of love. I'm overwhelmed. I haven't stopped crying since 6:30 this morning, and I don't see it ending anytime soon.
We knew our son touched many people, but I don't think you fully realize just how much impact one life can have, until that life is taken from you.
Today I want to send a message to Heaven. I want Zachary to know that we love him, and that he lives on in each person who saw his smile, heard his laugh, felt his touch, or knew his kindness. I want him to know that each year we will celebrate his life, and that he will NEVER be forgotten. I want him to know that his father and I are so proud of the life he lived, and so honored to have been blessed with him. I want him to know that his soul burns as brightly now as ever, and that he is still touching lives, and making the world a better place. I want him to know that we love him more than words could ever express, and that we carry him with us every single moment, and we do our best to honor his memory, and continue on where he left off.

Happy Birthday, Boy Child. May you fly among the stars on angel wings, and feel the warmth of a thousand flames burning brightly in your name.

These are just a few of the beautiful tributes to Zachary today...

Teena's Truths: Life Advice You Can Count On

You know those inspirational posters that you see in offices and schools? The ones with the cat hanging from the tree that says "Just Hang In There" or the captivating image of a man atop a great mountain that simply says "Determination". Yeah well, these aren't those. These are real life nuggets of wisdom, learned the hard way. No flowery, cutesy, awe inspiring imagery. No scrolly, swirly fonts. Just golden gems of truth. Ponder them. Memorize them.  Share them with your friends. Just remember where you heard them. Don't try to claim them as your own, or I will find you, and slap the ever lovin' crap out of you. This shit is mine. See the title? TEENA'S TRUTHS. I'm Teena. Not you. And don't you forget it.

If you don't believe me, just ask the last people who tried to steal my stuff. Oh that's right, you can't. I blew them up. (Thank you M.Campbell Photography for this kick ass photo.)

Anywho.... without further adieu, here is my unparalleled genius. Enjoy.

"Get up, put on something pretty, slap some extra shiny lip gloss on, and make today count before it's over."

"Having a bad hair day? Just wear a low cut shirt or a high cut skirt, and no one will notice."

"There are very few things that glitter, new shoes, and a good song can't fix. For everything else, there's alcohol."

"Practice makes perfect. But if it doesn't, just try not to fuck it up too bad."

"If he doesn't make you laugh AND orgasm, he's not the one."

"Never judge a man by his car. Unless it's a Camaro. Then it's safe to assume he's a douchebag."

"Always use protection. Sex is better without a screaming baby in the other room."

"There's only so much stupid that good looks and a hot body can make up for. So brush up on current events, and read a book from time to time."

"Work hard, play hard, and fuck hard. Not necessarily in that order."

"Always dress to impress. You never know who you'll be making a first impression on. Plus, no one likes a lazy slob."

"Never be ashamed of being yourself. Be ashamed of being someone else, because they probably aren't as awesome."

"Always wear waterproof mascara. Rain and tears are easier to wipe off than black gunk."

"No one likes a whiner. Man the hell up, or shut the hell up."

"Never underestimate the power of a hot bath or a cold beer."

"If you can't find a good man, invest in some good batteries."

That's it for now. I'm sure your brain probably imploded after the first three anyway. There's only so much brilliance the average mind can handle. But don't fret, there will be more. I am brimming with barely contained cleverness.

The Maze of Grief

Today I hit a wall. It's been coming in waves for several days now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it hit me full on. Well this morning, at 3:43 a.m, I knew it was official. For those of you who may not know, or don't read my blog regularly, we lost our son a little over 15 months ago. I've written about the Grief many times, and tried to explain as best as I can, what we deal with every single day. Lately, I've been finding myself wandering aimlessly through my Grief, and not quite ending up anywhere. It's like being lost in a maze, only it's a maze that has no end. There's a clear start, but no finish. Sometimes a path becomes clear for a while, and you follow it, but then out of nowhere, your path ends. In short... you hit a wall. Sometimes you know you are approaching a wall, because there are subtle signs. You can't focus, you're overly emotional, you feel like you are living in a thick fog, so you know it's only a matter of time before you stumble into something. Other times it's dates or times, seasons, holidays, or anniversaries that are approaching that you know will guide you right into a blocked path. There's no avoiding it, and there's no way around it. Sometimes you are stuck behind that wall for hours, sometimes days, sometimes weeks. Eventually, you drag yourself up and over the wall, and you keep going. If you're lucky, another path becomes clear for a bit, and you follow it. Seeking out the light whenever and wherever you can. If this sounds bizarre and confusing to you... Try living it.
This morning, at 3:43 a.m, I hit a wall. I know that because I woke up shortly before and my mind was a mess. No matter what I did, I couldn't clear it, shake it, or fall back to sleep. This is not uncommon for me, since I suffer from insomnia, but this was different. It's difficult to explain how, but it just is. You'll have to take my word for it.
Now I am trapped behind this wall. Though I am sitting at my desk, writing this post, I am only here physically. My head and heart are elsewhere. I function out of habit. I got up, showered, did my hair and makeup. I even put on some shimmery accessories. I drove to work, and I sang along to the radio. I put on my best "normal" face, and I am going about my business. Why? Because I have to. That's how it works. You don't get to hide from the world, or curl up and disappear. No matter how much you may want to, it's not an option. I can't scream and cry all the time, so I fake a smile. "Fake it til you make it." Wise words from a fellow grieving parent. That's what you do when you hit the wall. You fake it until you can bring yourself to climb up and over it, and really feel joy again. There's no way of knowing how long I'll be here. This isn't my first wall, and it certainly won't be my last. This maze is my life now...

Regrets and Choices

I hear the phrase "No regrets" a lot, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I'm not sure it applies to my life. Or anyone's life for that matter. I think if people were to be truly honest with themselves, they could never really say they had NO regrets. I mean come on... I'm currently regretting the frozen meal I had for lunch. Now I know that's a bit on the lighter side of things, but still, you get my point. I have a great deal of regrets, hindsight being what it is and all. In my youth I made many a regrettable choice, and though I learned a lot, I still wish I had chosen differently. Would I be where I am today without those choices? No. But who knows, maybe I'd be somewhere better. Or maybe I'd be a better person. We'll never know. But I look at things a little differently than others. It's less about not having regrets, and more about accepting those things, and dealing with them the best way you can. Having regrets means I've made mistakes. And even though I learned from them, and ideally, am a better person because of it, I still regret the initial mistake. I'm flawed. We all are. So of course we have regrets.
This brings me to other choices I have made. In 34 years on this planet, I have made and lost many friends. I have cut people out of my life, or accepted my removal from theirs. Some people are not meant to be in your life forever. This doesn't mean that I didn't cherish the time we shared, or that I regret having  had them in my life. They came (and went) for a reason. I accept this. Is it often sad? Of course. It is never easy to let go of people who were once important to you. But sometimes it is necessary. Sometimes I think we try to hold on to the person, when we should just hold on to the memories. Letting go of those people doesn't mean you hate them. It just means you made the choice to love yourself, and remove yourself from a less than ideal relationship or situation. I've never destroyed photos or mementos from my past. Instead I treasure them, as a reminder that each person that comes into my life teaches me something valuable. Gifts that were given in kindness will always remind me of good times with that individual, and even if that person is no longer a part of my present (or future) they were a part of my past, and I will always be thankful for that. Some truths are harder to accept than others, but that doesn't make them any less true. Sometimes being the bigger person doesn't mean forgiving and forgetting. Sometimes it means moving on, and accepting that not all things can be forgiven or forgotten, and being ok with that. It's not about holding grudges. It's about knowing when to say "I deserve better than this." and meaning it. It's about knowing yourself, and what's best for you, and not letting the opinions and assumptions of others sway you.
This is me. This is who I am. Regrets, flaws, mistakes and all. I own it. You may not always like me, and you will more than likely disagree with my choices from time to time. I can accept that. I'm not living my life to please you, or anyone else. In whatever amount of time I have left on this planet, I plan to learn and grow as much as I can. I will make many more mistakes, and I will make many choices that people won't understand. But as long as I know that I am doing the best I can, and choosing what is best for me, I'm ok with that. Because the choices and regrets are my own.

Free and Easy Kids Crafts

Here in Michigan, we had some nasty weather last night, and because of that, many folks found themselves without power. For a lot of those people, that means kids home from school with little or nothing to do. So I decided to create a few projects that you could do at home, with kids of all ages, using only things you most likely have sitting around in closets, or under beds. 
Turkey Finger Puppets:

For this project, all you need is glue, scissors, an old glove, paper or fabric scraps, and googly eyes or buttons. 

Start by cutting the fingers off the glove. Then cut out several feathers from your paper/fabric scraps. Don't forget to cut out a beak and the gobble. (AKA: the red dangly thing)

Once you have all your parts cut out, glue them on, and VIOLA! You have adorable turkey finger puppets! 

Now ask the kids to put on a puppet show. They can sing songs, do a silly barnyard skit, or share things they are thankful for. 

This is also a great project for Thanksgiving, to keep the little ones occupied while waiting on dinner. 

Play Kitchen:

This is a great way to use up all sorts of various odds and ends you may have laying around. The play food can be made using any fabric or colored paper. I used scraps of felt, but craft/scrapbook paper would work great, also. 

Just decide what foods you want to make, and draw them out. I based my foods on colors of felt I had, but you could do fruits, veggies, a pizza, etc. Be as creative as you want! There is no right or wrong on this project. 

Once you have them drawn up, cut them out, and set them aside.

To make the stove, I used a shipping box (free at the post office) that I had in my closet. I spray painted the box with a can I had left over, but you can use any kind of markers or paint, or cover it with craft paper. 

The knobs on the top are painted bottle caps, and the stovetop is drawn on with a paint pen. (Again, use whatever you have.)

I drew on the fake oven door, then cut a wine cork in 2 and painted it black. Then I glued a piece of plastic (an old pencil, or wooden dowel would work for this, also) to each of the corks to create the handle. The towel is just a piece of scrap fabric with a bit of lace glued to the ends. 

That's it. It's that easy. And if you have more boxes, make a fridge, a sink, and more. Add a picture frame window, or cut out the oven door to make it open. The possibilities are endless. Then all you need is a cute tea set, and your favorite doll or stuffed toy, and you are ready for fun!

It doesn't have to cost a lot (or anything) to create endless fun for little ones. And I'm sure you have many things just sitting around waiting for you to use them creatively. Imagination is the best toy you can give your child. 

Being a Good Person

What does being a good person mean to you? Does it mean you are kind to others? Does it mean you never make mistakes? Is it determined by your religious affiliations? What factors do you take into consideration when you decide whether or not someone is "good" or "bad"? I ask this because I am often surprised by how quick we are to judge someone based on such minimal amounts of information.
I read an article this morning about several Atheist groups who attempted to volunteer their time and money to help out the less fortunate. They reached out to some Christian organizations to offer their assistance, and were turned away. Not because they weren't needed, but because of their lack of similar beliefs. Apparently, these Christian groups think that in order to do good, you must have the same exact views as they do. That makes exactly zero sense. Just because you see the world with a different perspective, does not make you more or less "good".
A person's religion (or lack of) is a very personal matter. Most people, including Atheists, do not go into these things lightly. There are many factors that can determine how someone chooses to view the world. For one to assume that you are not capable of kindness, or to deny someone the chance to do something selfless, based solely on one part of their makeup is insanity.
These same ideas apply to many different areas where people are quick to judge.
Is a person's value determined by their skin color? There are certainly people who think so. Why? Because it is different than theirs. And different is "bad", right? It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But it happens every day. We make snap judgments about others based on something as trivial as that, all the time.
If you're Gay, you can't be a good parent. If you're a woman, you can't be strong & decisive. If you're a man, you can't have emotions. If you're a black man, you must be good at sports, but be a terrible father. If you're blond, you must be stupid. Do any of these sound familiar? They should, because we see and hear them all the time.
We live in a world filled with amazing, brilliant, wonderful people, but many of us never discover that, because we are too busy assuming we know what kind of people they are, without knowing anything worthwhile about them.
Being a "good" or "bad" person isn't determined by your skin color, your hair color, your sex, your religion, your sexual orientation, your financial status, or any of the like. What makes you good or bad is how you treat others. Do you care about the well being of the less fortunate? Do you reach out to those in need? Do you treat people with the same level of respect, kindness, and compassion that you want in return? Judgment is a two way street. If you don't want to be judged harshly, then don't judge others harshly. If you want to determine how good or bad another person is, get to know them first. You may be surprised. We preach "Only God can judge." but we don't live it. We quote the Golden Rule, but we don't practice it. We mistakenly think the only "good" people are the ones who think, dress, look, and act just like us, because of course, WE are good people, so they must be too, right? Not necessarily.
Whether you agree with someone's beliefs, share their core values, or follow the same moral guidelines, does not mean they can or can't be a good person. We need to stop making these things mutually exclusive.

Country Girl?

For those of you who don't know, I was born and raised in small towns. I spent the first half of my childhood in a town of roughly 400, then moved to a "big city" of about 1,500 folks. There were more cows, pigs, horses, and chickens than people, by a long shot. I've lived in various places during my adult years so far, and am currently abiding in another rural area.
Why, you ask? I have no idea. I don't own a farm, a tractor, or even a dog for that matter. I have no desire to have livestock of any nature, to be honest. I was recently involved in a country folk vs. city folk debate, and it got me to thinking....What the hell am I??
I would have to think I fall into the country folk category, and I started thinking about what makes one "country". Stereotypically speaking, of course. Here are my thoughts...

I don't hunt. I grew up in a hunting family, and most of my siblings, and much of my extended family still hunts regularly. I have no qualms with hunting. I COULD hunt. I even learned to use guns and bows in my early years. I just have no desire to hunt. If I want meat, I go to the store and get it. I don't even have to buy it dinner first.
I own nothing camo. Not even a pair of socks. And more to the point, I don't want to own anything camo. Who am I hiding from? Am I in a war at Target? I just don't get the camo thing...
I don't have animals. I like animals just fine. I've had many pets in my time, and I like to think one day I will have some again. But just one dog, or maybe a cat. Nothing that requires milking though. I don't even like milk.
I don't drive a Ford or Chevy. Nope. I drive a Subaru, and I love it. A wagon, even. And it's never hauled hay, feed, or an animal carcass.
I don't have a garden. Hell, I don't even have real house plants. I killed a cactus once, so clearly I was not born with a green thumb. I do appreciate home grown produce, and I have been known to hit up the farmers markets, and road side stands.
I hate nearly all domestic beers, and I won't drink any beer from a can. I'll float down a river, chill by a bonfire, even tailgate, but I'll do it with good beer.
I think NASCAR is stupid. Now if you've read any of my other posts, you know that I am a BIG automotive sports fan. But NASCAR stopped being worthwhile when they stopped running moonshine. Give me rally, Formula1, or pretty much ANY other car racing, and I'm in. But you can keep your NASCRAP.
I could go on, but I think you get the point. I don't fit most of the "country" stereotypes. So why do I still consider myself a country girl? I'll tell you why...
Because being country isn't just about competing in a greased pig contest or playing cow pie Bingo, though I've done both. Many times. It isn't about wearing boots, and listening to Conway Twitty. But I do that too. It's a state of mind. If you'd rather lay in the bed of an old truck, drinking a beer, and counting stars, than hang out at a loud club, you're probably country. If you get more pleasure out of building a roaring bonfire than twirling a glow stick, you're probably country. If you own more flannel and denim than silk and satin, you're probably country. If you often get stuck behind farm equipment on your daily commute, and you have no desire to honk your horn and get impatient, you're probably country. If you know that the best food is home cooked, not from some 5 star restaurant, you're probably country.
I may not fit all the stereotypes of a typical country girl, and as much as I enjoy the big cities from time to time, I'll always love coming home to my little rural slice of Heaven. I'll always treasure the peace and quiet of a summer night, and the brightness of the stars over a glistening body of water. I'll never take for granted the easy going pace of a simpler way of life, over the hustle and bustle of the city. In my life, I may live in many places, and I may enjoy them all, but nothing will ever feel quite like home to me without dusty roads, open fields, and a small town.

My Unsolicited Advice Part 2: Public/Social Behavior

I believe I've established my level of bluntness. It's often mistaken for bitchy-ness, but I don't think the two are universally entwined. I can be bitchy without being blunt, and vice versa. Though, when giving unsolicited advice, it may come across as both. Oh well... I won't lose any sleep over it. Onward and upward! Today's topic du jour is: Public/Social Behavior. As with the fashion post, I will select 10 points to focus on. For now....
1. Common courtesy. Where oh where have good manners gone?! When did it become popular practice to be rude? These days, the simple act of holding a door for someone is like spotting a unicorn fart. Rare and almost unseen. And what about minding our Ps & Qs? (I still don't know what that stands for, but I know what it means.) Please, thank you, you're welcome, etc. are still magic words. And as much as I loathe being called Ma'am, I fully appreciate the respect behind it. (But, for the record, I prefer Miss, Sugar, Darlin', Young Lady... you get the point.) Common decency is becoming a thing of the past, and I'm not ok with that. Women, if you want to be treated like a lady, start acting like one. Men, if you want a real lady, be a real gentleman. It's just not that hard. Hold doors, be kind to others, give up your seat for someone elderly or pregnant, offer a stranger a hand, and just stop being such an a-hole. Please and thank you.
2. Children. Seriously, parents... what the hell is going on? Do you really think it's a good idea to take your toddler to an R rated film? If I wanted to hear constant screaming through my movie, I would have went to see a slasher flick. And I have no issues with children in restaurants, as long as they stay at their own table. I get it, kids will cry, they'll be loud, and sometimes, they might even throw a fork. But strap them in, and keep that to your own area. Little Annie might be adorable, but I don't want her sticky fingers in my hair, or my soup. This isn't your home, so you need to be respectful of others, and at least attempt to keep your spawn in check. If you don't want to do that, stay home.
3. Old folks. I'm getting sick and tired of rude, pushy, and entitled old people. You are not exempt from simple courtesies just because you survived 60+ years on this Earth. We don't owe you any favors. IF we choose to offer them, be appreciative. Senior discounts are a privilege, not a right. You don't get to demand a store give you something for nothing. Also, if you cannot drive the posted speed limit, see over the wheel, park, or handle your vehicle, give up your license. I understand that this is difficult, but your selfish need for independence is endangering others, and that is not acceptable. If your loved ones, and the government don't have the balls to tell you as much, I will.
4. Public fighting. I have two words for people who do this. Grow. Up. Is this the playground? Should the rest of us circle around you shouting "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" and pumping our fists? Unless you are defending yourself against an assailant, there is no excuse for this. And this applies to immature couples who want to have dramatic and public arguments, as well. Take your trash home. The rest of us have no desire to witness your ignorance.
5. Tipping. Let me just go out on a limb here and suggest we make this mandatory, instead of optional. If you can't afford to tip your wait staff, then stay home and eat. That waiter/waitress has probably worked longer and harder than you, has dealt with rude, demanding, and stupid customers, and is making squat. They survive on tips. If you have a genuine complaint about your service (and it is the waiter's fault) ask to speak with a manager, and let them know. But don't under tip a waitress because the cook put too much salt on your fries, or because a spoon wasn't clean enough. They have no control over that, and there is only so much they can do. Be generous with the tips. Especially if you have a large group, fussy family members, and around the holidays.
6. Following along that theme, stop being rude to service people. Waiters, clerks, janitors, etc. all work just as hard as you do, and deserve just as much respect. Be polite, use manners, and have some patience. They are only trying to do their job, and it is not their fault that you can't find your credit card, are running late, or that your child is hungry. If you don't like something about a store, send them an email, or fill out a comment card. But don't take it out on the person behind the register. They don't make the rules, and  most likely don't have the power to change them.
7. Cell phones. Unless you are stuck in the toilet, or are suffering from a medical emergency, you have no business being on a phone in a public restroom. First of all, it's just gross. Are you tweeting about your bowel movement? And secondly, IT'S JUST GROSS! I think Aunt Betty will understand if you have to call her back. While I'm on the subject, just because your phone is mobile, doesn't mean you need to actually be on it EVERYWHERE. I don't want to hear about your daughter's rash, or your son's vomiting while I eat. I also don't want to hear you argue with your boss or husband while I'm buying groceries. And if you want the cashier to take your savings card, get off the phone and have it ready for them. Having the ability to communicate with anyone at anytime is great, but get it under control.
8. Drinking. Now, I'm Irish and Scottish, so me likey my alcohol. But I also know how much is too much, and when to say when. Nothing is more irritating than obnoxious drunk people. Especially when those people are grown ass adults. If you can't go to a restaurant, party, wedding, or social gathering without getting shit faced, you are an idiot. Have a few drinks. Have more than a few drinks, even, but know your limits. If you can't control your feet, your mouth, or your bodily functions, you've had too much. I enjoy a good time as much as the next gal, but I also like to remember it.
9. Socially selfish. You know the types. They leave their car parked in front of a handicap ramp, so they don't have to get their fancy shoes wet on a rainy day. They hold up a line because they couldn't get off the phone and get their checkbook out and ready. They block the entire aisle at the store with their cart, and when you say "Excuse me." to get around it, they look at you like YOU'RE the rude one. This blatant unawareness, and ME, ME, ME mentality is disgusting. Pay attention to your surroundings, and think about how your actions might affect others, and quit being so self absorbed.
10. PDA. I'm probably going to get a lot of shit for this one, but this drives me nuts. Holding hands, hugging, even light kissing, is fine. I am even guilty of it. But the couples who want to dry hump each other in a theatre, booth, or middle of the mall... come on. You are obviously desperate for attention, or trying to prove something to someone. This isn't seven minutes in Heaven, or whatever the kids are playing these days, so keep your groping to a minimum. Or to quote every 10 year old... "Get a room!"
Well... that concludes today's unsolicited advice. Stay tuned for Part 3.

My Unsolicited Advice Part 1: Fashion

Hi, my name is Teena, and I like to share my opinions with others. Some people require buckets of alcohol to be filter-less, but not me. I'm just naturally outspoken. It's a gift, really. On my resume, brutal honesty should be listed as a skill. It's not, but I'm considering adding it. But I digress....
Surprisingly enough, for as often as I don't keep my trap shut, I really do bite my tongue A LOT. It's true. Why do I do this? Well for starters, there really is a time and place, and though I may not be known for it, I do actually have tact. So sometimes, I just smile and grit my teeth. All the while secretly hoping that someone else is less tactful. Or drunk. But then it dawned on me.... I HAVE A BLOG. So while I may be expected to occasionally zip my lips, I can always write whatever the hell I want. So today, my friends, I am going to get some things off my chest that I would normally keep to myself. Because, well... I can.
Today, I'd like to start with fashion. Now, let it be known, that I am no expert in this field. I wear what I like, and what is comfortable. That being said, there are some basic dos and don'ts. Here are a few:
1. Don't wear Crocs. I mean seriously... are you avidly avoiding sex? Did you just come from cleaning up a crime scene? Do you have flippers where you should have feet? Crocs are the herpes of footwear, and they should be avoided at all costs. Personally, I'd walk bare foot over broken glass and fire before I put them on my feet.
2. Tights are for UNDER something. A long sweater dress, a pretty skirt, etc. They are not pants. And while I'm on the subject, let's go easy on the leggings, gals. I don't want to see your camel toe. NO ONE wants to see your camel toe. There is a proper way to wear leggings, and I hate to say this, but 85% of you ladies are doing it wrong.
3. Skinny jeans are for ladies. Period. There is no exception. If you fellas like to wear your denim a bit more snug, more power to ya, but if you require Crisco and an extra set of hands to get into it... No. Just no. And also... just like the name suggests, skinny jeans really are for the skinny. There is nothing wrong with curves, but wrapping them in something much too tight is not flattering.
4. Why, hipsters, why? We get it, you're artsy, edgy, non mainstream, and you were all those things BEFORE it was cool. But do you have to look so douchey? Wool caps & scarves are for winter. And stop giving glasses a bad name. I wear glasses because without them, I can't see. You asshats wear them for no reason, and now suddenly all of us visually challenged folks are being lumped in with you, and it's pissing me off. Now go drink your PBR in a dark corner somewhere, and bitch about society.
5. Can we all just agree to stop wearing Ed Hardy, Tap Out, and Affliction shirts? It just makes you look like a tool.
6. Yoga pants are for yoga. Shocking, I know. Apparently putting the name in the title wasn't informative enough. So let me just make sure this is clear. YOGA PANTS ARE FOR YOGA. Did you get it that time? Unless you are on your way to, currently practicing, or immediately coming from yoga... change your damn pants. I don't care how good they make your ass look. If you are actually doing yoga that much, your ass should look that great in anything.
7. Pajamas and sweats are not acceptable in public. It takes no more effort to put on real clothes. You want to know why you're single, no one will hire you, and people treat you like shit? Because you look like a mess. If you want to be taken seriously, start with how you present yourself to the world. You want people to respect you? Respect yourself enough to not look like a lazy piece of trash. Brush your teeth, comb your hair, and put on real pants.
8. Hey gangsta... pull your pants up. First of all, it's hardly practical to run from the police while holding up your drawers. Second, the only place it's ok to bust a sag that big, is in the bathroom. You don't have swagger, you just look like an idiot.
9. If you can't walk in heels that high, don't wear heels that high. Or practice first, so you don't look like you have a broomstick up your ass. They're shoes, it's not a tightrope act. If you struggle that much to keep your balance, you're doing it wrong. And don't feel too bad if you can't walk in the stilettos, because, let's be honest... they were made to wear whilst lying down anywho.
10. If you think it's too tight, short, low cut, or inappropriate, it probably is. Now don't get me wrong, I like a deep V as much as the next gal, but maybe wearing it to volunteer (bent over) with children all day isn't the best idea. And while that micro mini and stripper shoes are perfect for a night at the club, they probably aren't suitable for a job interview. Ya get me?

Well... that is my unsolicited advice for today. You're welcome.

Being Thankful

Starting November first, the thankful posts begin on facebook. These can be anything from your health and family, to the internet and a good cup of coffee. The idea is to say, each day, something you are thankful for. No matter how big or small it may be. While I know by mid November, these posts can get tiresome and a bit much, I still appreciate the sentiment.
I think it is important, now more than ever, to find these blessings, and to savor them. And if by making a social media post about it, you take a moment and truly acknowledge the good things in your life, then I say go for it. Should we only be thankful in November? Of course not. But if Thanksgiving is a reminder for you to slow down and cherish life, how is that a bad thing? So whether or not you are participating in the month of posts, maybe you should still sit down and make a list, just as a reminder to yourself to see the silver lining. With the craziness of the holidays just around the corner, it might be a nice little refresher to keep our heads, and hearts, in the right place.
And in that spirit... Here is what I am thankful for.
I am thankful for Dan (my hubs) and all the joy he has brought, and continues to bring into my life. For his endless hard work, and strength of character. For his support, and love, and friendship. I am thankful that he chooses me to share his life with, and that each day we grow stronger and closer.
I am thankful for the members of my family, who have chosen to stand beside me, during the most difficult time of my life. For not walking away when it wasn't easy, and for continuing to show me compassion and understanding.
I am thankful for my friends, who have become my family, and held my hand, dried my tears, and walked with me through Hell. And those who have reached out, showed empathy, support, and kindness, when they didn't have to. For those who have listened and cared.
I am thankful for all the Team Finn love and support. For each of you who took the time to place a sticker on your car (helmet, camera, computer, etc) and bring a little happiness to Dan & I. For honoring the memory and legacy of our son, and keeping his spirit alive.
I am thankful for the automotive community, and all the amazing people it has brought into our lives. To the rally world, especially, for being a second family, and for helping us in our quest to find the right path in our new normal.
I am thankful for all of our adopted kids. For their smiles, and laughs, and love. For their endless loyalty to us, and to Zach's memory. For being a part of Dan & I's life, and for making us a part of theirs.
I am thankful for a job that I love. For being able to work for people who not only treat me with respect and kindness, but also who make me feel appreciated and genuinely cared for.
I am thankful for a beautiful home, a warm bed, and for food in my belly.
I am thankful for the ability to share with all of you my thoughts and emotions. And I am thankful to all of you who take the time to read it.
I am thankful for my son. For all that he has taught me, and all the joy he has brought into my life. Though I would have given ANYTHING for more time with him, I am thankful for the time I had, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I am thankful for the memories, and I will treasure them always. I am thankful for all the signs and messages he continues to send me in spirit, and for being the best kid a parent could ever ask for.
I am thankful for so much, that I can't possibly write it all here. And I am making it my mission, especially in the incredibly difficult days to come, to remind myself of these things. And when it gets too hard, I will look up, and know that I have the best, most amazing angel smiling down on me, and that he would want me to be thankful just to be alive...

On Halloween Night (a fun poem)

Twas Halloween night, when all across town,
the stores were picked clean, no candy to be found.

The pumpkins were lit up, on porches and stoops,
while children were gathered in pairs and in groups.

Some were dressed up as clowns, some were witches and cats,
there were fairies and ghosts, and even some bats.

They ran door to door, with sacks in their hands,
with pleas for more candy. Some polite, some demands.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet!" could be heard in the air,
along with laughter and squeals, from attempts at a scare.

There were parties and music, and bobbing for fruit,
while kids sat around, just swapping their loot.

The adults were there too, and just as well dressed,
having arguments over whose costume was best.

Then out in the street, we heard a loud screaming.
For a moment we thought we must have been dreaming.

Some ran to the windows, some ran to the door,
but we didn't know what we were looking out for.

Then the scream came again, but this time much louder.
Some were so frightened, they hid and they cowered.

Then out of nowhere, the lights just went out.
The darkness so deep, we just stumbled about.

We banged into tables, and into each other.
Children were shouting, and so were their mothers.

The screaming continued, out in the street,
like a bad scary movie just left on repeat.

Then we heard the door open with a loud creak.
We were so afraid, no one could speak.

Then footsteps they came, right into the room.
This must be the end, we were all doomed.

So we quivered and shivered, what more could we do?
When suddenly, someone shouted out "BOO!"

The lights came back on, and everyone stared.
It was just little Danny who'd had us all scared.

"I GOT YOU, I GOT YOU!" He giggled with joy.
We couldn't believe we'd been duped by this boy.

We couldn't stop laughing, it had all been such fun.
But now it was late, we all needed to run.

So we headed home, as the leaves they did fall...
Good night, sweet dreams, Happy Halloween to us all.

(A poem/story by Teena M. Hauxwell-Finn)