Awkwaaard stories

Being July, and Friday, I think it'd be an excellent time to tell you three self-depreciating and very strange stories that have occurred in my life recently. Don't forget to leave a comment, and like us on facebook!

I was at Pride Festival in Victoria on Sunday. And I had been in the beer gardens, standing in line to use the porta-potties for about 18 bazillion years. There were a huge number of porta-potties, and they had those indicators on the front that said "occupied" or "available". Well, one of them said "available". Someone asked if there was someone in there, but no-one knew, and no-one wanted to be the one to go and check. Well, since I'm an idiot, I felt like being all 'proactive' for the lesbians in the line up and prove to them that it was empty.

I marched up to the porta potty, and banged on the door to see if anyone was inside. I didn't hear anything in response, so I pulled the door wide open, but without looking inside, in order to demonstrate to those in the line, that the porta potty was in fact empty, and that they were all silly for waiting in line without checking all the doors. Well. Turns out the joke was on me, because there WAS in fact someone in that porta potty. And because I didn't look before I pulled the door open to make my point, I did not just walk in on him, I actually held the door open long enough for everyone in the lineup to get a good, solid look at the man inside. Hello world, I'm an idiot!

The second story happened in Costco. Do you all know what Costco is? It is a giant warehouse sized store that carries EVERYTHING. I didn't have my son and happened to be wearing headphones and listening to music while I was shopping. I parked my cart outside the cold area, and ran inside to grab some almond milk. I put the milk in the cart and kept shopping. No problem.

About 5 minutes later, a disgruntled older woman wacked me on the behind with a 4 liter jug of milk. I pulled my headphones off to hear her tell me she'd been chasing me down hollering at me for stealing her grocery cart. I laughed at the mistake, and apologized, inquiring where MY cart with my groceries went. She didn't find my mistake nearly as funny as I did. How did I not notice? Both our carts were nearly empty and had typical grocery items in them. I hadn't noticed my mistake, even after adding a few things to the cart. She wasn't laughing. She was pissed. I saw nothing special in her cart. I had not made off with her her purse. But she was mad, and she thought I had taken her cart on purpose.

I apologized, and chuckled with the friendly folks in the isle around the scene of the crime. I retrieved the goods I had mistakenly added to this woman's basket, apologized again, and went in search of my own cart. I had made a mistake. I was friendly about it. I apologized. I moved on. But she did not. We crossed paths multiple times through the remainder of the shopping trip, and she pointed me out each time to her husband, moving her cart away like I was going to take it again. Like I couldn't find those grocery items myself! She even put up her fists and let me know that she had been "ready". I smiled sweetly in understanding, but oh my goodness. You'd think I'd had made off with her grandchild. :)

None of this bothered me, in truth. I knew she had been over reacting and must have picked the best steak from the meat department and felt very attached to it. And it was all okay. I just chuckled. But I felt bad for her husband. She wanted to fight me over such a silly mistake. I still chuckle when I think about her chasing me down and bonking me with her jug of milk! As someone 6'0 tall, I think it was rather bold! :)

The third story I want to tell you happened yesterday at work (I do still have a job until Monday). I was at my desk working away and suddenly there was this very loud crash bang sound from the roof directly above me that shook the building. The lights went out and everything went quiet. My first thought was if the building had been hit by lightening, but then I remembered it's July, and sunny and we don't get lightening in Victoria. (Yes, still an idiot!)

Turns out a crow flew into or landed on or somehow otherwise blew up the transformer for the building's air conditioning unit which was stationed on the roof directly above my desk. Poor bird.

But here is the weirdest part of the story. Apparently, the crow, upon exploding the transformer, became a dead, projectile crow, and shot across the street, and it hit a man, walking along the sidewalk, in the head.

So lets recap today's strange stories. Imagine, if you were minding your own business in the porta-potty and some random chick opens the door and puts you on display and doesn't even realize it.

Next, imagine being vaguely threatened with physical violence by a woman twice your age and half your size for making off with a nearly empty grocery cart.

And lastly, imagine what it would be like to be peacefully wandering along the sidewalk, and then suddenly be hit in the head by a dead, projectile crow.

Weird times.

I hope these made you chuckle. Which was your favorite, and why? Also be sure to add your own strange stories in the comments.

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How to feel beautiful and worthy

I would like to tell you the story of how I came to feel beautiful and worthy. Turns out, I discovered, just how much our inner voice and the words we use to describe ourselves impact on the way we see ourselves and feel about ourselves; how something so simple as using new words can REALLY change the way we feel about ourselves. This post is for anyone who has ever felt fat, or who has ever felt ugly, or who has ever felt worthless, or useless, or not good enough. In short, this post is for everyone.

6 years ago something happened that changed the way I saw myself. I had issues with my body. Like so many people, I felt fat and ugly and unattractive. I had hosted an event at work, and a co-worker took my picture when I wasn't looking. The picture was from the side, from far away. The photo was from a perspective that I hadn't seen before.

I found this photo on the network drive in the middle of my work day. I stopped, and I stared at the photo for half an hour in disbelief. But what shocked me was not how FAT I looked. What shocked me was that it was not the body I had been seeing in the mirror. And what I saw, from the angle of the photo, was my calf, the lower part of my leg. I had not seen my legs from that angle or from far away. I see my legs from the front, or the side in the mirror. And in that photo, the side of my leg looked so vastly different than I believed it to be. It looked normal.

The leg in the photo was not the leg I had seen in the mirror. The one in the mirror, and that I could see when I looked down was fat, really fat. The photo was of me, and of my leg, but it was so different than the one I knew. I knew the photo was real. So I saw that MY perception of my body must be wrong. And I was shocked.

I didn't know that I was seeing myself so disproportionately, and the photo was my first realization that I was wrong about my body. So in a daze, I allowed myself to become more aware of my thoughts. For three days, I just listened. I listened to the words I used with myself. I observed myself when I was near a mirror. I heard how I was thinking about myself. And it was an awful three days.

I realized that I was saying horrible, horrible things, in my head, about myself. Someone would say "How are you?" and I would say out loud "I'm really good!", but in my head I would say "I'm really good, for a fat chick". When I would look in the mirror, I would see fat, and I would think 'fat'. I put that word all over my body, so that it was all that I saw. I no longer saw beautiful long legs. I just saw fat. I didn't see the beautiful smile and bright blue eyes. I saw fat. I didn't see beauty at all. Because I had been telling myself "fat" and beating myself up and being cruel and unloving to myself it became the truth of my body.

And feeling fat like that did not help me gain control over my body in any sense. I fought myself and tried to diet and failed because all I saw was fat. I would eat something, and eat it like a fat person. I behaved like I was a fat person. Not a person who is struggling with their weight. I BECAME a fat PERSON. Not just my body, but my mind, and not temporarily, but a truth about ME. And you can't win the fight against something you believe will always be true.

So after the worst three days of listening to my inner voice beat the crap out of myself, I went to talk to my family doctor. We talked about how I felt and what I saw. He talked about cognitive behavioral therapy, which involves changing your thoughts and actions. The way you behave influences the way you think, and the way you think influences the way you behave.

He told me to look in the mirror and say 'beautiful'. I tried it and it felt ridiculous. I didn't see beautiful, I saw fat. But I knew there must be some truth to it, because I realized that I had been wrong about my body. I had evidence in that photo. My calf was not actually humongous. It was normal. So I must be wrong, and I allowed myself to try.

I tried "beautiful". It felt silly, but I kept saying it. If I walked past a mirror, I would look, and say "beautiful", "beautiful face", "beautiful stomach", "beautiful legs". I was lying, at the time. I knew I was not believing it, but I kept doing it. And if I forgot, and said "fat", I stopped, and said no, that is not true. This is beautiful. This body is beautiful. This skin is beautiful. I am not like the girls in the magazine, but I sure am beautiful. It took a while, but eventually I stopped saying "fat" and I started believing "beautiful".

I also had to change that inner voice that would preface things with "for a fat girl". My inner voice had been saying things like "happy, for a fat girl", or "great hair, for a fat girl". I had been so unkind to myself. And as an independent and strong person, I realized that I would not let anyone in the world talk to me and treat me the way I was treating myself. I would have cut ties with the person who treated me like that. And yet, I was allowing myself to be so nasty to myself. I had to put my foot down. If those words "for a fat girl" came up, I had to stop, and say no. I had to fight myself to change the words I used to think about myself. I didn't always believe it, but I was committed to changing the thoughts.

It worked. I was able to change the words I used to describe myself, and I was able to see myself for the way I really am. I could see myself the way the rest of the world saw me, as vibrant, beautiful, full of life, and full of beautiful energy. I saw my body as it really was. I was curvy. And yes, I needed to lose some weight. But I was not a fat PERSON any longer. I was a beautiful person, with a few extra pounds. I was no longer trapped in the idea that I was fat forever or that I as a person was fat.

And because they made me feel horrible, I threw out all my skinny clothes. I was perfect and happy.

After that, after discovering how beautiful I am, and accepting and loving myself, I learned about calories and was ready to learn about healthy eating. I was happy, and kind with myself. I learned about cardio and the right way to exercise. I was no longer punishing myself with a diet, and I was not punishing myself with exercise. I was exploring those things as a positive force in my life.

I didn't push myself. I just learned, and watched myself, and did what felt right. And suddenly, I was eating well, and not feeling like it was punishment or as though I was withholding something from myself. I was exercising, and instead of feeling like a failure for not going every day, I felt thankful that I went at all. And I started to enjoy it. I didn't beat myself up if I had dessert. I enjoyed the dessert, because beautiful people, happy people, can sometimes eat dessert.

I was kind to myself. I allowed myself to be perfect in my imperfection. I forgave myself. And I was okay with who I was. I was healthy. And I was forgiving myself. And I was kind. And I saw my beauty. And I could accept a compliment. And I could smile and be proud of who I was.

I lost 50 pounds that year. But I know that I'm beautiful in all my forms and shapes and sizes. I am a beautiful person. And you are too. You with your thoughts about your waist line, or your concerns about your hairline. You're beautiful. And you are perfect. You are absolutely right for yourself at this moment. You are everything that you should be. And you deserve to love yourself.

Be kind with yourself. Know that the first step to making change, is seeing the thoughts behind the actions. If you struggle with self-doubt, you can change your thoughts. You can change the words you use, and you will begin to believe it. It will become the truth about you. This applies to all things about yourself. So listen to the voice, and begin to change the words.

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My story of success.

This is the story of my journey, from the bottom to the top. It is much longer than my usual posts, but it was a long journey from where I have been, to where I am now.

When my son was a year and a half old, I separated from his father. (See here for the explanation on that: (Why I couldn't choose to be straight). I went on welfare (also known as social assistance in the US, I think), but it was such a pitiful amount of money, and I knew I could not be happy in that environment. At my mother's urging, I went to speak to the academic advisers at the local college, to talk about enrollment. They checked my transcripts and told me I needed English 12. I had graduated high school with English 11 only, and 12 was required for admission. So I contacted the local adult education school and learned that the course I needed cost $350.00.

I wanted to apply, and take the upgrade course, but I didn't have $350.00 I needed to register. I spoke to my worker at welfare, but there was no budget for courses of any kind and I certainly didn't have $350.00 laying around. I think they probably gave me $800.00 or $900.00 a month all together to survive on. I didn't have $350.00 to pay for English 12, and I couldn't move forward.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I wrote a letter. First I wrote a letter to my worker telling her why I needed the $350.00 for the course, so that I could upgrade my English, and enroll into College, and get off welfare.

The response was that while this was a great idea, there was no money for it. So I wrote another letter, to her boss, telling her boss what I needed, and how I intended to get off welfare, and enroll in college. Sure, I'd be on student loans, but I could get off welfare. I had a baby to take care of, and we couldn't live on the income I could make as a single mom working at a gas station. (I did try).

I was told by my worker's boss that I needed to write another letter, which would go to a committee for approval. I wrote that letter, outlining my career goals and intentions, and it was accepted. I was granted the $350.00 for the English 12 course I needed to take before I could apply to college. The cheque was to be written out directly to the school, just in case I was ready to take the money for myself.

So I took the course. I put my baby (2 years old by now) into daycare, which was subsidized by the government for low income families, and I took English 12. I was so thankful. I learned how to write an essay, and to write a block style letter. I loved it. And I worked my ass off, coming in to class when I was so sick, even, to complete assignments. I didn't have a computer at home, so I needed to go into school to do the assignments. I was the oldest student there at the time. The other students were mostly high school drop outs with issues of authority. I was out of place, but I did my best. I got an A in the class and marched my transcripts up to the local college.

I applied, and I was accepted as a mature student. I didn't know what I wanted to take, I was just happy to be there. I felt like I finally fit in somewhere, walking up and down the street sized walk ways. There were students at College who were older than me. There were other parents here. There were young kids who still lived at home with their parents, sure. But I belonged. I was a student. And I was finally off welfare.

I had no idea what I wanted to DO with my education, and the academic counselor recommended I try a few different things in the "University transfer" program. That included a huge range of courses such as philosophy, psychology, English, Anthropology, Accounting, Geography, Japanese,etc and 25 other subjects, and they would all be transferable to University, if I ever wanted to go in that direction. I registered for a Philosophy class, a Psychology class, and a Computer Science class.

I dropped my kid off at daycare and bused over an hour into school every day to work my ass off. I got straight A's in that first year. I busted my ass. I became an expert at applying for student loans and navigating the registration system. I absolutely loved the Psych 101 class "Issues in Contemporary Psychology" class, and decided to take more of those. I was also enjoyed English, and took a bunch of those.

After a year, I was told that I had the pre-requisites I required to get into the local university, so I nervously applied. I was accepted. I met with an academic counselor who was very kind and sat with me in his office to look at my transcripts. He saw the psych courses on my transcripts and encouraged me to take more of those, so I did.

A year after that, I applied for the Co-op program. The Co-op program is a program in addition to your studies that included work experience for a semester with an academic portion. My GPA was good, and I got in.

On top of my full time course load, and on top of being a single mother, I sat in on the Co-op meetings once a week and learned how to write a resume, how to interview for a job, and what a good cover letter looks like. After a semester of that, I was ready to find my first co-op job.

I applied to a bunch of things and didn't get any interviews. Then I saw a Government job that talked about writing a technical manual for a program I'd never heard of called Oracle Discoverer. I had never even heard of Oracle Discoverer, so definitely did not have experience they explicitly requested. But I applied anyways. I was honest in my cover letter and resume that I didn't have experience with that program, but that I was a good writer, and I was willing to learn.

Turns out, no one had experience with Oracle Discoverer, so I got an interview. To demonstrate my willingness to learn, I had gone to the local public library and borrowed a book called "Oracle for Dummies" and brought it with me. They liked my keenness in the interview, and I got the job.

I did a 4 month work term with them as planned, and then they hired me back for a second work term. When they couldn't put me on any more co-op terms, they put me on as a contractor. I was studying full time, being a single mother, and working as a contractor for the Government. My house was a mess, so I hired a friend to wash my dishes once a week and vacuum my disgusting floor. My kid (then 4) was in daycare full time and I struggled to make time for him. I struggled to keep my grades up. I struggled. But I couldn't fail.

I finished the contract and got hired for the summer as a research analyst with the Government again. I was not studying for the summer, so it was easier to have the evenings to myself and my son without a text book looming over my head, but the daytime hours were very long. I would drop my son off at daycare at 8:00am, before most of the other kids had arrived, and I would pick him up at 5:30 or 6. He was the last kid to be picked up every night. It was an extremely long day for both of us. Thankfully he went to his Dad's place on Thursday and Friday. But even then, it was such a struggle. It was hard hard work.

I went back to school again in the fall, and so the hours improved but my schedule was still havoc. Another contract came along and I was working and studying again. The money was good, but I still relied heavily on student loans.

It took me 6 years, from start to finish to complete my degree this way, not including the academic upgrading before College. My grades were shot near the end, but I was passing.


I started the path so that I could do something, anything better than what I was doing. I did it for my boy, so that he could have more in his life than I could have done pumping gas as a gas station attendant. I worked my ass off, missed so much of his early years, so that we could have more, as a family. He was my inspiration, and when I was in the thick of it, and I would picture graduation, I would cry. I would cry knowing that I did it for him.

I finished my Bachelor of Arts in Psychology. I graduated. I made it. I needed him to be at that ceremony. I needed him to see me in my cap and gown, on the stage, receiving that degree. My mother was there with him, and they bought roses to hand to me. He looked so proud of me, and I was so proud. I was so proud of him too, because it was his journey too. He saw me studying, working my ass off, and he lost things for it. I couldn't always play with him. I couldn't do the play dates, and soccer, and I even missed parent teacher interviews. I couldn't pick him up after school. So my degree was his degree too. His success as well. And he was so proud of me.

Our children need to see us doing our best. They need to see us kick ass, and push ourselves, and become more. They need to see us be successful. I believe that he will be successful and strong.

I was recently laid off, but I know that I will be successful. I have lived through hard times, and I am strong. I can do difficult things, and I can do them well. I have the best motivation in the world, and it is that precious and beautiful boy that is my son.

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Pay it Forward!

So I had the good pleasure to be listed in Dad vs Autism's post called "Pay it Forward", where he listed 5 bloggers that are important to him. And he said some really wonderful things about us here at SLMother! This was well timed praise.

The idea behind "Pay it Forward Friday" is that I now take a turn to return the favor, telling all of you about the blogs that have influenced me, helped me, or made me laugh. I want to showcase to you my blogging friends who have helped me and guided me and supported me as I've been growing. These are good people. And they also write.

So first, I will tell you about Dad vs Autism, who nominated me. Here is one of his posts that I liked a lot. He often comments and supports and relates to my blog, which makes me feel good. He talks about life, and getting by, and what it is really like to parent a kid with Autism. And he's a nice person. And he has been struggling to build a tree house for like a billion zillion years (see story here)

Next, I'd like to showcase From the Bungalow.
This post ( an open letter to my kids on Father's day) made me cry. Chris is also a very nice person. He has encouraged me, sent people to my blog, and been my friend. He has left me wonderful comments and given me advice. He is good. He and his partner Karin are sweet and kind and human and they struggle just like the rest of us. It's a breath of fresh air.

Next, I want to introduce you to Daddy Knows Less. He too has encouraged me, supported me, and been a kind human being. These are amazing people, all of them! I found a community amongst these daddy blogs. They are supporting each other and they just accepted me amongst their folds. I feel grateful and appreciative. Daddy knows less often writes beautiful pieces like this one called "My one and only you". It is clear that his love for his wife is a giant sun in his solar system. It's freaking beautiful. We should all be so lucky. Go follow him!

I feel lucky to be blogging alongside these gentlemen. Thanks for reading their stuff, and supporting them, because they have really helped me feel like I am a part of a community of bloggers. SURE they're Dads, and SURE I'm a mom.. And YEAH they're straight and I'm crooked.. But we blog and we support each other and share each other's work. And it's nice. So I want to say THANK YOU to these fine folks.

And I am also running around being quite busy this morning, and would have liked to take more time to thank the REST of you, for supporting me, sharing my work, and being there for you. You have all been really wonderful, and I so very much appreciate it. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.

Sincerely, and with immense gratitude,

KR Munro

I need your advice on this!

Hi Adventurers!

So I found out yesterday that I'm being laid off of work. I have 2 weeks left and then I'm on my own. I am very confident that I will turn this into a myriad of incredible opportunities. And part of that confidence comes from being a planner. As a mom, and sole supporter of my son (when he's at my house, at least) it's important for me to have stability. So I'm exploring the options available to me right now. I will qualify for unemployment insurance, so I will not become destitute entirely, but I need to find ways to make a few dollars while I look for a new job or explore further education. Decisions, decisions.

So I want your opinion on monetizing this blog. I was approached a few weeks ago by an organization called "Social Moms", who want me to direct traffic to their site for a dollar per click, up to a maximum of, like 50 dollars or something. Do you guys consider this "selling out" or are you happy to click a link and see where it goes?

When this offer was first proposed, I didn't really consider it because I didn't need the money (much) and didn't want to change anything about the blog. So, I'd like your opinions on the subject. Will any of you unsubscribe if I have a link on the side of the blog? Will any of you actually click it?

Here is the description for the link:
SocialMoms is a network of moms who are active in social media. We bring our members opportunities to grow their personal brands and showcase their expertise through sponsorships, media opportunities, advertising programs and networking activities. The company's staff is dedicated to bringing its members high-integrity opportunities to engage with each other, media outlets, and the world's leading brands.

(So this means people who blog, or have networking abilities can share and take part in things like what I'm doing here. It's about marketing, and reaching audiences)

And here is the link: Social Moms Social Media Toolkit

I'll post the link somewhere on the left, and leave it there. If you hate it, leave a comment and I'll know how you feel. If you are in support, also comment, and/click it and I'll follow the consensus.

Also, advice on how to deal with being laid off? Tell me your stories!

Thanks,

SLMother

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Gender

Today’s post is a response to two other bloggers I frequent, (from the bungalow) and (Daddyknowsless). Daddy knows less posted an article about gender, in response to this article about a school in Sweden that does not use the personal pronouns, and from the bungalow started a conversation on his wall that I wanted to write about. (Click HERE for the article on the gender neutral preschool)

I’d like to disclose before you read any further, that I’m not an expert on gender and sexual categories. I have a lot to learn, and I invite you all to comment and share and correct me anywhere that I might have been confused. Join the conversation and share what you know, share what you feel, and share what you think. This is a welcoming and supportive environment for conversation, so take part, and know that I am not an expert on the subject (or any subject) and I may get things mixed up. Let me know if I do and I’ll do my best to provide accurate information.

So there’s a school in Sweden that is doing away with the personal pronouns “he” and “she” and is using a gender neutral Swedish term, “han”. Some of the responses I’ve heard about this are that raising children without gender is too PC, and strange and problematic and wrong.

Something that some people don’t understand is that gender and sex are different. As I understand it, sex is the biological of your body, where gender is the category you personally identify with on the male to female continuum. Gender is complicated because we tend to think of gender as a binary 'girl' or 'boy' and it is not actually binary.

We have expectations that boys are supposed to be masculine, and girls are supposed to be feminine, with a whole host of what that looks like, and we don't all fit into these expectations. Sometimes the expectation of gender is so far off what a person is really like, that they don’t fit in. Sometimes boys have a little bit of girl inside, and sometimes a little girl feels more like a boy inside. It is so common, and yet we don’t recognize it in our society as okay.

That’s the point of the school in Sweden; it is allowing children to be themselves without the need to behave in the socially created gender norms. So that a little boy who feels a bit like a girl inside can wear pink, and paint his nails, and be safe. Because kids should not be judged or shoved to the borders of society for not fitting into our stereotypes of what gender should be. Kids should be happy and loved and accepted. There are a massive number of people who don’t fit into “girl” or “boy”.

There is a huge population of gender queer, transgendered, feminine boys or masculine girls that our society does not acknowledge, or when they do acknowledge, it is with judgment, fear, and unkindness. And a huge number of these people, children, youth, and adults, commit suicide every year because they don’t fit in.

They are born girls, or boys, but they don't feel entirely like girls or boys. They feel like a girl in a boy body, or a boy in a girl body, or like a girl with a lot of boy inside, or a boy with a lot of girl, and they get teased, relentlessly for being different. But they’re BORN different, and they kill themselves. So many children, teens and adults take their own lives because they cannot be what they are told they should be, just because they don’t fit into the binary.

So, when I think about this school in Sweden who is doing away with personal pronouns in an attempt to allow people to just be themselves, without enforcing a false gender stereotype onto them, I think, “finally”. I wonder when the rest of the world will catch up with this school, and allow people to be themselves, without insisting that they meet our expectations about who we think they should be.