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Adventures
Category

  • Belief Systems and Hugging Amma

    There are a wide range of beliefs out there in the world. You can believe in Santa Clause, Jesus, The Devil, Allah, that high heels make your butt look better… People have belief systems of how they should live their lives that impacts their moral code of ethics. We often filter our actions through our belief system to determine our behavior despite the highly personal and subjective experience of forming beliefs. There is often turmoil when people’s beliefs differ even though something doesn’t have to be a fact in order to believe in it. We don’t need concrete proof to believe, because the power of intuition is enough. There is something truly magical, and dangerous about beliefs. Such extremes as people refusing to eat carbs or going on a suicide missions are motivated by what someone believes in.

    I just thought of something. Wouldn’t it be funny to lick someone’s face the first time you meet them, and when they get upset just say…. “oh… you see, licking is part of my belief system. I believe it is the best way to communicate… so…. Yeah.”

    I question my personal beliefs, and the concept of passing beliefs on to my child. Part of me feels like it is indoctrination to force a belief on an impressionable young person. Yes, by living with me I am going to expose her to my beliefs, but does that mean I should lead her to think that everything I believe is true? Would that effect her capacity to come up with her own beliefs? Or if I am too adaptable about my beliefs would that confuse her? Is it better to be rigid even if your children eventually rebel?

    What got me thinking about all this is taking The Munch to hug Amma. From my vast extensive internet research, I have learnt that people have many varying beliefs about her. Some claim she is a saint, others believe her to be an energetic vampire. It is kind of hard for me to believe that someone that goes around hugging people would have bad intentions, but I also believe that deep down Tom and Jerry really loved each other. But despite the critics, there is a whole industry around her including Amma water bottles, hats, and dolls where the proceeds go to her wold wide philanthropy.

    Although I did not feel as if Amma was personally sucking my energy like Count Dracula, I did find the energy of the people at the event to be pushy and aggressive. In kept thinking “uhhhhh… aren’t we all here because we want a hug? Can’t we just simma down a bit and maybe hug each other rather than stomping on my toes to get to your coconut water?” People were literally like “Get the F out of my way! I am trying to get a god damn freaking hug here!” But the actual experience of the embrace felt quite peaceful, not to mention that she is the only human ever to live that has hugged 31 million people! What a unique life experience!

    I guess what I am saying is that maybe I don’t feel concrete enough about anything to tell my child that something is definite. Except for the absolute fact that aliens are living among us and the Royal family is descendents of an evil reptilian species that controls the world through the New World Order and orchestrated the moon landing and 911 because that is so obviously true and reasonable…

    July 13, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Musings, Political Banter • Views: 1639

  • I Am So Much More Spiritual Than You

    This past weekend, The Munch and I went to a yoga festival called Wanderlust. I have conflicting feelings about events like this. In theory, it is magical that all these people come together to celebrate the common interest of yoga. But in practice, when I am surrounded by all these hippies I kind of want to slather them in meat sauce and preach the value of Reaganomics while drinking a Coke and wearing a fur coat made of Wooly Mammoth. I don’t know why. Maybe it is all the flowing clothes, spiritually driven tattoos, and sincere looks. What is that you say? What am I wearing? Just these billowing pants and shirt… why? Oh… this here tattoo… it is a tree of life that I drew. or do you mean the lotus flowers at my heart? What is that you say? Oh this is just the look I give everyone when I am staring into their third eye. Why? What are you getting at?

    I guess my over arching issue is the feeling I get that people think they are above it all. But are they? Okay fine, you may be more conscious about what you buy, but you are still a consumer even if you are buying Kambucha, feathered earrings, and beads for your dreads. Yes, there is the energetic claim that everyone is accepting and open hearted, but people are still clicky, judgmental, self-conscious, lusty, slutty, womanizers, ego-driven, dark, rude, angry and full of rage. Try and cut someone in line getting a coconut water and organic raw ball of cacao with sunflower seeds and you will see how one with the universe someone really is.

    Why am I so cynical? It is not like I don’t appreciate the intention behind it all. The love, peace, and happiness for all beings. But something about being in a circle with a bunch of people thrusting their pelvis to the sound of the Djembe drum makes me excuse myself to the bathroom and pray it will all be over soon so I can downward dog in peace.

    Despite my effort to keep an open mind, I couldn’t brush away the taste of over analyzing and feeling better than everyone who felt better than everyone else. I then went to a class where the teacher talked about the Devil inside us. She went on to say that everything that truly annoys us about someone else is actually our shadow selves. Essentially we hate what we are. Now tell me that is not the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard. That is so obviously not the case with me. Excuse me… I have to go now and chant to Krishna Das and make fun of people for dancing with their eyes closed while feeling like I know more than everyone around me.
    Om Shanti

    June 27, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Musings • Views: 1353

  • Crawling… Movement Without Reason

    You know how they say that what one of the main distinguishers of man is the fact that we are bipedal? Somehow, walking on two feet makes us superior to our fellow four legged animal friends. Why is that? Perhaps this is because when on all fours the head and ass are on the same level, rather then while walking upright, the head is above the ass area. Maybe being on all fours means that your head is getting the same blood flow as your ass, meaning that you are about as smart as your butt. That is what I think about my baby right now.

    Crawling is stupid. In fact, it is the stupidest thing in the world.

    The Munch can move around where ever she wants, but what she wants is so stupid that her head must be up her ass. “I want to pull this computer thingie off the table, I want to crawl behind the toilette and get stuck and then cry about it, I want to pull everything out of this cabinet then close my finger in the door and freak out about that, I want to crawl over to where you are and pinch you even though you keep moving every time I get to you. If you are trying to hint at something, I am not getting it. Where are you going? Well here I come!”

    Maybe if there were some logic or reason to her movement it would tolerable. But there isn’t. She is about as reasonable as a drunk fundamentalist at an Atheist abortion clinic. What kind of cruel world would allow this? Why don’t humans learn to crawl when they have some actual brain capacity to reason? Like when they are 20… after those silly teenage years. My friend Grace told me it only gets worse when they start walking because they have a greater reach. Dare I say that I am starting to understand the thinking behind Chinese foot binding?

    June 23, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Baby Body, Baby Brain, Parenting • Views: 2613

  • Memorial Day!!

    Memorial Day! A day to commemorate US soldiers! And then quite ironically…. party like its 1999. I totally see how those two things go together!!

    Things got super out of hand with The Munch! She is a true American Patriot!

    Talking Smack!

    Late Night!

    May 30, 2011 • 1st time for everything, 9-12 months, Adventures • Views: 1099

  • Projectile Vomit And Anal Angst About Colons

    I know what you were thinking… “Man… I haven’t heard a good vomit story in a while.” Well look no further!

    First, a little background. So far, I have been pretty anal about what I feed the Munch. You see, a few years ago I did something called the “Master Cleanse” where you don’t eat for 10 days and drink solely water with lemon, cayenne pepper, and maple syrup. Why would any one do such a thing? To cleanse your colon that is why. Like it or not, you have a lot of years of impacted shit in there.

    Okay… wait… vomit and shit? Now this is what I call a story!

    After 10 days of not eating you are supposed to break your fast with oranges. So of course I ate 10 of them. That night, I shat out oranges. There they were, sitting in the toilette just the same as when I ate them. I even debated picking some out and eating them again because the store was closed and I didn’t have anymore.

    You see, The Munch’s colon is as clean as it is ever going to be. She eats carrots, she poos carrots. There is a beauty in that you may not see if you are too busy retching, but trust me, it’s there. So the only things I have fed her are pure veggies that I steam and crush myself. Soon I will be churning butter for her and wearing a bonnet, but I haven’t gone there yet because I have yet to introduce dairy.

    However, my friend had these little kid organic puffs that her son was enjoying so much. He was having the best time gnawing away at those things so I decided to give The Munch one… which led to two… which led to 8. Maybe I should have been more cautious considering she had never ate anything like that before, but I know I can’t stop after just one delicious puff.

    A few hours later I am at a birthday party and The Munch starts to act weird. Now, I live in the woods mind you, so the party I am at is really a few people standing around salsa in a cabin talking about the weather and the intensity of bug season. The Munch was hugging me, which she never does, so I sat down with her facing me in a straddle thinking we would have a nice little bonding moment. And then it happened. She looked at me, and projectile vomited in my face. Not a sweet little spit up mind you, but a full on, bursting throw-up. She continued to heave her body convulsing as she barfed down my shirt, created a puddle in the crotch of my pants, splattered some onto the floor, and then of course made sure there was still enough puke to cover her cute outfit. As a wiped puke out of my mouth all I could say was…

    “Now that is what I call a party!!!!!”

    Because I am not a sociopath, I had to care for my sick child and not ask anyone to take a picture of the cataclysmic even though you know I wanted to!! So I created a nice reenactment for your enjoyment 🙂

    May 26, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Baby Body • Views: 3401

  • Rain Rain Go Away….

    If you live on the east coast and have skin, you and I not only have a LOT in common, but you are also probably aware that it has been raining for quite a few days. It is one of those weeks where you look at the 10-day forecast and it’s a bunch of depressed clouds crying. Get it together clouds! No one is going to help you but you!

    Because it is raining all the time, I have been stuck inside with The Munch and pretty much losing my mind. When you hang out all day with a baby, taking them outside is a fun activity to divide the day from night. They look at the grass, you talk on the phone, they eat rocks, you find them later along with sweet potatoes and corn in their diaper. But when you take outside time away, that means you have to think of other things to do to entertain them, like let them play with your sneakers which they inevitably will put in their mouths.

    (I would stop this considering I walk with those on my feet, but you are having so much fun!)

    So yesterday afternoon, although it was as foggy as the mind of a teenager, it had stopped raining for five minutes so I decided to take The Munch for a walk. Considering it was wet out, and 50 degrees, I thought I could just stuff her in a snow suit, then shove her into the stroller that has this little sleeping bag in it. Sounds good right?

    As were walking, she drifted off into the never never land of sleep, and it started to drizzle. I saw drops collect on her face like dew on flower petals, but it didn’t wake her, so I just kept going. It is not like she is made of sugar or anything, and I know because I have licked her. A van drove by us, then turned around and drove back where a kind stranger yelled in a shrill voice loud enough to not only wake The Munch but also Rip Van Winkle.

    “Do you guys want a ride? I noticed it was beginning to rain and I figured you probably don’t want your baby getting wet.”

    Okay… now this is not only a logical offer, but also a very generous gesture… but you see I was looking at this scene in a totally different light. From my perspective my baby was peacefully asleep and we were getting some fresh, albeit moist air.

    “Oh… no thank you. We are fine. She is wearing a snow suite.”

    She gave me this look that I often inspire. A look that says “What is wrong with you?”

    “Well… I have children too and I would hate to be caught in the rain with them so I thought I would offer.”

    “Thank you… really… but she is wearing a snow suit.”

    This made sense to me even though I know the lady in her warm van thought I was a nutcase. I mean snow suites are warm… and she was in a sleeping bag remember? The Munch went back to sleep, we kept walking in the drizzle, and I made fun of the lady to my friend I was on the phone with.

    “I mean… I know she was being nice and all… but I don’t want my kid to be a pussy. It is just a little drizzle and she is wearing a snow suite!” Do you see a theme going with me and this snow suite?

    Fast-forward about 10 minutes and it is no longer drizzling, it is outright raining and I had 2-miles left to walk to get home. Maybe I should have taken that ride after all and not made fun of kind people who are way more responsible than me. Whoops.

    May 19, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures • Views: 1234

  • Wearing Pajamas To The Grocery Store Means You Are Fabulous

    Unless you are Hugh Heffner, you probably change clothes twice a day right? You have your daytime clothes, and your pajamas. This practice provokes my pondering considering pajamas are more comfortable, but as the pressures of social convention dictate, it is not appropriate to spend your life in sweatpants. That is unless you never want to have sex again, then by all means go ahead.

    I have adapted to this culture norm, reserving my torn up Greatful Dead T-shirt purely for nighttime, but that is because I only go to bed once a day. I don’t have to change four times a day to accommodate my nappy nap nap times.

    But a baby takes naps during the day… two of them… sometimes more. So is it really necessary to always put your baby in gap jeans when they are just going to go back to bed soon? Why is it so wrong to leave your baby in what they slept in the night before? It is not like they are going on any job interviews.

    You may detect a hint of defensiveness is my words, and that is because of my not being able to tell off a 5-year old in front of her mother and harboring a lot of pent up resentment. Sure, it was four in the afternoon and The Munch was wearing pajamas at the grocery store. Fine, the little girl was correct when she so astutely mentioned “that baby is still wearing pajama’s mommy.” And maybe I wouldn’t be writing with the same sense of fury if I had the perfect comeback. But I didn’t. Not because I was afraid of what the mom would think if I made a snarky remark to her daughter, but more because I was afraid of what that little girl would say about my outfit.

    May 17, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures • Views: 2794

  • The Most Horrific Happening Ever To Happen at Target

    I’d like to think of myself as a carefree person who does wild and crazy stuff like rip tags off of mattresses, or whisper quietly during a movie. I even once got a parking ticket, and didn’t pay it. I live on the edge, ready for the next adventure life has to offer, like going to Target to get a high chair.

    So there I am, walking the luxurious aisles, perusing the fine merchandise, and The Munch starts to feel heavy. I had forgotten my earth-mother baby-sling that makes me feel morally superior, so I decided to put her in the little seat for children at the front of the cart. I have fond memories of sitting in those seats, and wanted to give my daughter the great American experience of wheeling around in an apparatus touched by millions of people and their disgusting dirty paws.

    So there she was, her little legs dangling while I debated buying the “Automatic Robo Stir” for those who can’t be bothered with stirring their soup. It was a priceless moment until out of the corner of my eye I saw it happen. She was too quick, and as I rushed over to stop her, The Munch made contact. She put her mouth on the handle of the cart in Target. Gross.

    I pried her mouth off the germ-infested metal, as the film of shame from my neglectful mistake coated my soul. I quickly tried to wipe the inside of her mouth with my shirt as she licked the air savoring the taste of hand. Shudders permeated my spine, and I picked her up, hugged her, and promised that I would forever pay attention to her every move to protect her from such horrific events.

    As I was making my way to the register, she got heavy again. So I put her back in the seat, but swore to monitor her like a hawk. But the line was long, and US Weekly was just so interesting that I hardly even noticed when she did it again.

    “Is anybody looking?”

    “I am going for it!!!”

    May 6, 2011 • 1st time for everything, 9-12 months, Adventures • Views: 973