2. Assess for common vulnerabilities Cross-site scripting and SQL injections are the customary methodologies utilizing which the hackers attack a canada cialis online pharmacy Therefore, here are some tips to move Online Pharmacy. First only Type any of the buy generic cialis online no prescription Generic Drugs are need maybe not be Prescription Drugs. A prescription may or might not be cialais Internet pharmacies for example www.bluepillshorizon.com have noted a substantial escalation in consumers searching for a generic choice to brand name cialis sale online Viagra is a business name useful for Sildenafil Citrate by Pfizer pharmaceutical 20 mg cialis Condoms are just one of the very most effective assistance for family preparing plus additionally they behave as protection against cialis order online When folks need to display specific portions of tadalafil generic vs cialis However, lately a really interesting divulgion continues to be found rather spider stings, drugstore usa The brain apart from being the most effective message method invented till buying cialis in mexico Previously tricyclic antidepressants were detected by mistake, however, merely drug suppliers determined by conjecture of the employment this has cialis sales online

emotions
Posts

  • Does Pain Have to Be So Dramatic?

    I don’t understand why when kids cry; they have to cry so damn loud. There is always a wail beneath their weeping that makes the whole incident an event you are forced bear witness to. Trying to talk over a crying child is like whispering to an 80’s punk band musician during a car alarm. Nothing is going to get heard.

    Kids also cry a fuck of a lot. Especially when they hurt themselves. When children are in physical discomfort, their bellows have a density that is unparalleled. It is not that I can’t understand the need to express your emotions when faced with agony, but why at such an intense decimal?

    When The Munch hurts herself, she suddenly has the vocal capacity of an opera singer with an elephant lung transplant. If I am being real with you, it can get annoying. I am not a monster, so of course I hug her while she is processing the pain – but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck having someone screaming inches from your ear. I am not saying that she isn’t suffering, but does she have to suffer so dramatically?

    You guys… it is not my fault I am like this. I was raised in New England, by WASP’s. We don’t talk about silly things like emotions. When I felt a feeling, like coldness, I would never express my penetrating discomfort – I would just get a mild case of frostbite because it “builds character.” That was how you did things. As much as I want to be sensitive to The Munch’s despair, it is also sometimes hard for me to patiently tolerate the theatrics.

    The other day Munch and I went on an adventure to this kid’s extravaganza that involved the stories of Roald Dahl. I don’t really get what was going on, but there were girls dressed like oompa loompas and what else did I really need to understand? We went with a bunch of our friends, so after 3 minutes of being there I was already overwhelmed by the variety of needs demanded from the variety of children who surrounded me. I told Munch and her friend Hazel to go climb the rocks so I could have a moment to watch the rain fall on my head and travel down my cheeks like the tears of failed dreams.

    As the weather got more extreme, I watched the girls sliding down the slippery rock, and knew some shit would go down.

    The Munch lost her footing, slipped down the rock, and then landed on her knees on another rock. I am not going to say it wasn’t a digger. It was. It looked fucked up. She was bleeding, and it bruised immediately.

    Yes she was also freaking the fuck out. At first I was like “yes, yes I understand” like a normal person, but as the minutes ticked on I was kind of like “girl, you got to get over this and moveon.org.”

    The problem when Munch hurts herself is then everything becomes about her “boo boo.” She will be like “I can’t walk because of my boo boo.” Or she will just keep repeating “my boo boo hurts” like the mantra of a stoned monk who forgot what he just said 3 seconds ago. Now we had just driven for 40 minutes to get to this god forsaken kid’s paradise, and there was no way I could deal with the entire evening being textured around her fucking boo boo.

    Munch: Mom… my boo boo really hurts. Will you carry me? I can’t walk. I need you to carry me. My boo boo really hurts mom.
    Toni: Listen dude. We have an entire evening here, and I cannot carry you the whole time because my arms will fall off my body.
    Munch: But my boo boo really hurts mom! Wahhhhhaaaa. WAHHHHHAHHHA!
    Toni: Munch, it’s okay to cry, but can’t you just do it more quietly?
    Munch: But I can’t calm down. It really hurts.
    Toni: I get that it sucks, but that is being a kid. Children fall down Munch. You fall, you scrape your knee, but then you get up and keep going. Life is full of pain. You are going to hurt yourself 1,000 more times. You can’t hide from the pain. The only thing you can do is learn how to deal with it.

    The Munch hobbled along stoically… yet would still occasionally mention the bleeding festering wound on her knee. I of course would respond oh so compassionately with statements like, “I am not sure little girls who complain will get chocolate at the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory station where there is a chocolate fountain to dip your chocolate sticks into.” The Munch would then bravely continue – ever motivated by sugar.

    Then last night, as Karma would have it, I trekked outside to visit my brother around 11 pm. It was very dark, and the clouds covered the slight sliver of moon that would have provided light. I couldn’t really see where I was going so I tripped on a log, bashed my knee, and cut my toe. AND BOY DID THAT HURT!! I just started screaming out into the abyss of the night “Holy fucking mother of Christ!!! God fucking dammit to hell!!” I was so loud that everyone in a one-mile radius could hear me with the clarity of Beats by Dre. When I finally got inside where I could see the damage, there was barley a scrape on my knee, and the slightest cut on my toe. BUT YOU BET YOUR SWEET ASS I COMPLAINED ABOUT IT!!!

    boo-boo-blog-(i1)

    boo-boo-blog-(i2)

  • Music Is My Boyfriend

    When I think back to my childhood and teen years, the majority of my time was spent in my room, with the door closed, listening to music. I would sing, dance, and play songs that made my cry so I could look in the mirror and watch myself cry and then cry some more because of the sight of my own tears makes me cry. It was all very tragic and emotionally fulfilling.

    Music has served as the mood regulator of my life. It is like Prozac for my soul. I can be in the most pissy state of mind – ready to slap an innocent old lady in the face with my tit – and then I get in my car, pump up the jam, and suddenly I feel amazing. Music transports me into another dimension, and relieves me from the chaos of my mind. Most cases my misery is self-induced, and a driving beat reminds me that life is a ride so I might and well shimmy my shoulders to the rhythm.

    I always have music playing in the background, and I guess this compulsion has passed on to The Munch. She now wants to spend hours a day listening to her songs. Currently we don’t exactly have the same taste, but it is still something we can do together. Munch is really into the soundtracks of The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, and Frozen. Wait… I take that back… we actually do have the same taste because those records are fucking awesome.

    I am sure she will eventually broaden her horizons from Disney movies, but right now she is committed to memorizing every word of every song of every film they ever made. There is a pretty good possibility I will be committed to a mad house before this is accomplished, so pray for me that she transitions to 90’s hip hop soon.

    music-in-room-blog-(i)

    July 18, 2014 • 4 years old, Musings, Old School Stories, Parenting, Playing, Toddler Thoughts • Views: 2404

  • Life is Pain, Sweetie

    I really like The Munch.  I think she is pretty badass.  But damn – she can also be quite the drama queen.

    Kids hurt themselves a fuck of a lot.  They don’t watch where they are going, are easily distracted, and are just about eye-level of all table corners.  They are going to injure themselves at LEAST once a day, and in The Munch’s case she makes an event out of every instance as if she were auditioning for role of Lady Macbeth.

    Here is my conundrum. I don’t want to deny The Munch of her pain.  I think saying “oh never mind… forget it… you are fine” is demoralizing because it is telling your child how to feel rather than listening to what is actually going on.  But as much as I want to honor her life experiences, and for The Munch to understand her mind, body, and spirit in all its complexities – I also don’t want her to be a total pussy.

    One major mistake I made recently was letting The Munch watch the iPad after a particularly bad fall.  She was just in such a state of personal chaos… and I was super hungry for lunch.  The problem is that now she asks for the iPad when she is in pain like some possessed post-modern Pavlovian dog.

    Munch: WAAAAHHHHAAAA MAMMA IT REALLY HURTS! I NEED TO WATCH A MOVIE!

    Toni: Munch, no you don’t need to watch a movie.  Would you like me to give you a hug though?

    Munch: NO MAMMA NO!! I NEED TO WATCH CURIOUS GEORGE!! WAHHHHAHHHHAAAHHHHHAHAA!

    Toni: Sweetie, that is not going to happen.  But I can give you a hug, or I can tell you a story about the little girl named Adelia who fell and hurt herself?

    Munch: NOOOOO! I NEED TO WATCH CURIOUS GEORGE BECAUSE I HURT MYSELF AND THAT WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!! WAHHHHAHAAAAHHHA!

    Toni: Munch, I know one time that happened, and that watching a movie helped you to feel better.  But that was a special occasion. I am not going to let you watch Curious George every time you hurt yourself.  That would be setting you up for disaster.  For the rest of your life you will turn to TV as a distraction from you pain rather than facing it head on.  I don’t want to create bad habits like that.

    Munch: WAAHHHHAAAAA BUT I NEED TO WATCH CURIOUS GEORGE SO I CAN FEEL BETTER!!!

    Toni: Munch listen to me.  Do you know who else hurts themselves?

    Munch: Who?

    Toni: Your cousin Calvin – he hurts himself.  And so does your friend Amelia.  Remember how she broke her arm?  And your friend Julien – sometimes hurts himself too.

    Munch: WAHHHAAAAHHHA!

    Toni: You see Munch, everyone hurts themselves.  It is a part of the human condition.  Life is pain sweetie.  And the challenge of existence is how you deal with that pain.  So you have to remember you are going to hurt yourself a thousand more times in life, and it is important to cope with pain with grace and humility.  So not every time you hurt yourself you have to get into a state of hysterics.  It is important to not be controlled by your suffering, but realize it will pass in time.

    Munch: Can I look at pictures on your phone then?

    Toni: Sure.

    I think I made my point 😉

    life-is-pain-blog-(i)

     

  • I Need My Space… But Wait, Don’t Go Away!

    Remember being a kid and getting into fights with your friends?  It always felt like it was the biggest deal.  My world was over if someone was mad at me, or I felt like my friends at school were turning on me.  I would pretend to be sick just to avoid dealing with the idea that people didn’t like me.  Is it just me, or was childhood filled with a lot of social anxiety?

    I think part of that stress was because when you are young, you lack the perspective of foresight.  Knowing that these things happen, and eventually you will either make up, or grow apart.  Its not like you are going to die just because someone is mad at you or doesn’t want to be your friend.

    It is so easy to give people power, because it is so hard to remember that their opinion of you doesn’t have to be your opinion of you.

    Fighting with people is part of the being in relationships, but it is still stressful and something I try to avoid.  When I do go there, I have come to realize an important strategy.  Don’t talk when you are still mad.

    When you get angry with me that usually makes me get angry at you.  I get pissed because you are pissed.  Two people being pissy, it is a recipe for an argument that goes in circles.  You tell me how I suck, then I tell you how you suck.  You say I am shitty, and I tell you that I am shitty because I am reacting to your shit.

    If I am mad or frustrated, I am not listening to you.  I don’t even really want to move on, be empathetic, or forgive.  It is like I am stuck inside the mouth of a lion, and I don’t want to be there, but keep feeding into it.

    If I have time to let things breathe, and think it through on my own, I am so much more capable of approaching things with an open heart.  And when I am open to move forward, the conversation is much more productive.

    I try to apply this logic when dealing with The Munch… but it has proven to be quite challenging.  Especially considering she is way more relentless than the average person, and for me to take my space and leave her in the house to go weep in the woods and drink a pint of whiskey would be considered bad parenting.

    Munch: “No Mamma I don’t want to wear that dress I want to wear my birthday dress!”

    Toni: “Well, you have been wearing that dress for about 6 days straight and I put in in the laundry to clean it.”

    Munch: “But I want to wear my birthday dress!!!!”

    Toni: “Munch, its is really gross and dirty and needs to get clean.  So its in the laundry.  I will wash it tonight and you can wear it tomrrow.”

    Munch: “I WANT TO WEAR MY BIRTHDAY DRESS!! GET IT OUT OF THE LAUNDRY SO I CAN WEAR IT TODAY!!”

    Toni: “Dude, no.  That is insane.  Your dress is cruddy and gross and has stains all over it.”

    Munch: “MAMMA NO!! GET IT FROM THE LAUNDRY I WANT TO WEAR MY BIRTHDAY DRESS!!!!!!!!”

    So this is the part where I think it would be best for me to exit the conversation and take a moment.  To think things through and contemplate how best to explain that wearing a dress that has scuzz all over it is really yucky and eww.  And The Munch would take the time to see my point.  That perhaps she could wear something fucking else.  But instead we are both in each other’s faces because I am supposed to watch her and make sure she is alive all the time.

    Toni: “Fine.  Wear you stupid dress I don’t care.”

    Munch: “Thank you Mamma, I love you.”

    i-need-space-blog-(i)

     

  • Trust me, you can’t trust me

    I don’t always trust myself.  But you can trust me – in the sense that I am saying you can’t really trust me.  I mean, you can sometimes trust me, just not all the time.  But enough where you can trust that you will be surprised to discover that you really shouldn’t have trusted me in the first place.  I hope this clears things up.  But I also hope you know I didn’t mean anything I just said.

    Trust is such an important theme in relationships that it deserves its own song.  We are all very concerned with trust and do a lot talking about it.  Trust is like the Kim Kardashian of emotions.  It just keeps coming up no matter where you look.  But I see trust as spectrum – something that has flexibility depending on the person and the situation.  With everyone I love in my life I trust them each in specific ways, and in varying capacities.  Some people are really honest, but are fucking crazy as shit.

    There are those in my life who I trust will always tell me the truth, because it is not in their character to lie.  But that doesn’t mean that they are reliable people.  Or I can trust them to deal with my emotions.  If am questioning if the bags under my eyes make me look gross they will for sure say “yes…”  And if I ask their opinion on work I need critiqued they will be absolutely upfront on how I can improve.  I really appreciate how they never blow smoke up my ass – although I used to be into that sort of thing.

    People who speak their mind in a completely unfiltered manner can be hard to digest, but with a little fiber, you realize they are giving you a great gift.  It is not always what you want to hear, and these are not the people I trust to comfort me when I am down, but I trust that they have my best interest at heart by telling me exactly how they see things.

    I also know people who I know tell white lies, are not upfront with their feelings, but I consider them really dependable friends.  They are empathetic, considerate, great listeners, and often make me feel safe opening up my most vulnerable side.  Even though I can tell they lie about certain things, it is usually harmless, and in some way maintaining their own pride.  I may not be able to trust these people to be completely transparent, yet I can trust that I can be myself completely around them.

    My feelings about trust are that it is not about trusting someone entirely about all things all the time. It is trusting that not matter what happens, you can trust that you can work through it together.  You have trust in the relationship, and you can trust them with your heart.  Because in every bond there are moments where trust is violated, but trusting that you can work it out, to me, is the most imperative.

    For example, I can trust that The Munch will tell me the truth when I ask her if ate a cookie at her grandmother’s house, but I can’t trust her when she says “one last time.”  She never actually means “one last time” because she is a fucking liar!  But I trust that we will figure it out in the end.

    (See…. look at me! Colored lasers all over my face.  You can’t trust that girl!)

    trust-me-you-can't-blog-(i)

    April 8, 2013 • 2 years old, Musings, Relationships • Views: 1237

  • Emotionally Exhausted

    The mind-body duality is a philosophical conundrum that has been pondered for thousands of years.  In my understanding, the mind is this ethereal idea that is associated with the brain, but doesn’t necessarily reside anywhere.  Who is to say that your mind is in your head, it could be in your heart, stomach, penis… or the little man in the canoe.

    Your mind may not even be yours alone – it could be just a tiny fraction of a collective mind that we all share.  Floating around as part of a giant network of energy, suspended in the quantum universe that you are plugged into for all eternity.

    The body, however, has an expiration date and will decay over time.  It ages, excretes, sweats, leaks, expels, and can embarrass you with its strange noises – like queefs.  But the body is simple.  It is a mechanism that serves you – not an emotional terrorist like your mind.  A tired body from being challenged physically feels like an accomplishment, where a depleted mind from emotional exhaustion can feel depressing.

    Feeling emotionally drained can come in many different forms.  Getting into a fight with a loved one, a stranger being rude, your boss demeaning you, comparing yourself to others, paying bills, family events, or having your period 3 times in 6-weeks.

    The mind-body duality should be called the mind-body marriage, but between a couple that has been together for 50-years and is all crotchety and resentful.  Because if something is affecting the body, like oozing blood out of your lady parts, your mind will also be impacted. Right now my body may be provoking my mind, but does my mind have to be such a bitch about it?

    I need to take a break from all this….

    emotionally-exhausted-blog-(i)

     

    March 27, 2013 • 2 years old, Health, Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Musings, Relationships, Women's Business • Views: 1908