Being A Model: Trust The Choice

Every day we make choices: what to wear, what to eat, to sleep in or not, coffee or tea, Dancing with the Stars or Daredevil...

There are some choices that are a bigger deal. The small ones certainly add up. I mean, in aggregate, the small choices are important. They point to the kind of person you actively choose to be every day. They point to the motivating forces, the principles behind actions. And other people see that.

Your life partner sees that. In fact, you probably became life partners because of those very principles, if not consciously, certainly at a subconscious level. Your partner was like, "Damn. Those are the kind of values I like!" and so you got married, or moved in, or whatever.

Your kids see those daily choices. Unlike your partner, your kids didn't get a choice for you as a parent. They got stuck with you as part of the package. So for better or worse, they look at you, every day, and see your choices. They see your reactions and your principles, lived out, second by second. And it's sinking in.

I am a systems thinker. I never look at something in isolation. I can't. It isn't possible for me. When I look at something, I see its causes and effects. I see its influences - the confluence of factors that allowed it to become. I see its wake, the pieces it leaves behind, the ripples that run through time and space.

Because of this, I take my life choices very seriously. Like, stupidly seriously. I never do something without careful consideration. Granted, that careful consideration may be the length of a few moments, or I may have been thinking about something for years and years before having the opportunity of a given choice.

My point is, I do everything with purpose. I do everything for a reason. I know every action I take and choice I make impacts the people around me. I know that. A good example of this is me taking forever to drive a car. Whenever you get behind the wheel, everyone in your vicinity, their lives, are all in your hands. That is why I never text. I never drive after drinking. I always signal and check my blind spot, because I feel responsible for every life around me. That is the kind of thing I see every second of my life - that I actively push down so I function like a normal human being.

Of course, this is a burden. It is an incredible burden. And it is frustrating when someone doesn't understand. It is frustrating when someone gives me advice because they think I have not considered the impact my choices make.

Please, for your own safety, never make that mistake. Know, I have thought about the range of impacts. I have come up with a thousand scenarios. I wrote them down. I compared pros and cons. I went through a self-assessment. I wrote several journal entries, and I talked to at least three close people, at least one of whom goes fractal when thinking.

It is possible I missed something. I am human. I make mistakes. I do miss things. This is why I need editors. But giving me advice about what to do is the opposite of helpful...

For example:
X: You should get a job at [insert random company here].
A: Well, right now I'm focusing on my book launch.
X: They're hiring. I know someone.
(Struggle not to roll eyes or laugh in face)
A: Seeing as I can't afford a babysitter, can't bring Kiddo to work, and I need to work on this book launch until at least June 15, I'm not going to apply right now.
X: Don't you think you should get a job?
(Bites tongue)
A: The current labor market relies on referrals. Companies don't want someone under qualified because they don't want to train. They don't want someone over qualified, because that person will jump ship at the earliest convenience. I have applied to jobs that I am perfect for, and not gotten an interview.
X: Maybe you should broaden your search.
(Nods and fixes smile to face)
A: Right. I'll do that.
(Walks away)

Believe me when I say I have thought carefully about how much our loans are costing our family, how me not working strains our situation. Believe me when I say I have gone through a thousand options for moves, jobs, life directions, and whole life plans. That is, as I stated above, what I do.

The tricky part is this: Trust me. I am focusing on something right now that is worth my time. I control all the factors of this book launch. I have direct control on the product I put out. I have direct control on the effort I put into marketing this book. I have direct control over the website design. I have direct control over how many people receive information about this book, my beloved THRIVE.

This book can help a lot of people. I know that. My beta readers have told me as much. I know what I'm doing. Know, I have to do this. I choose leaving a legacy. I choose trying my hardest to accomplish my life goals. I choose to show Kiddo what is possible in life. This is who I am. This is who I will always be: a purposeful writer, a voice. I can be nothing else.

The minute I start trying something else, focusing on something else, is the minute I've given up my purpose, my calling. In that moment, I have chosen a life of misery and despair. That is not the model I want Kiddo to have. Those are not the values I want for him. I am not that person.

It is a hard choice, but it is mine. Mine and no one else's. Trust my ability. Trust my vision. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I have a reason for everything I do. This is not some self-absorbed, self-indulgent act. It is much, much, much more.

Raising A Gentleman (Part 2): Dangerous Boys

WARNING: This post contains content regarding rape and violence that may disturb readers. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.

“James, you pretend to rape her,” said Jack, pointing from James to me. My whole body tensed.

“Huh?” James looked at Jack in confusion. Then he shook his head. “Nu-uh.”

“Just hold her down. Pin her arms to her side and pretend to rape her,” said Jack in irritation to James. It was Jack's game. Someone was supposed to be a police officer or spy. I can't remember which. Someone else was supposed to be some criminal master mind, some kind of mafia boss, except this was not any cops and robbers game I ever played. I was uncomfortable. Still, Jack was my next door neighbor. My family went to his house for dinner. His parents seemed nice. They did short term foster care placements. By all accounts they were upstanding citizens. They seemed to be a good family.

Except for Jack.

“Come on!” he spat, his foot tapping the broken cement sidewalk. Jack was the aggressive one. He asserted his dominance without caring what other people thought or wanted. But we did want to play. Even though I was introverted I needed to get out of my own head. I wanted to be with people for a little while, people I knew. We wanted to be outside. It was north of sixty degrees, the grass was green, and the sun was shining. We wanted to belong. No one else was out. No other kids were living on the street at that time. We were kids. What else were we supposed to do?

“I don't want to,” mumbled James.

“I don't want to either,” I mumbled, feeling the strength of numbers. I felt the danger of the suggestion – the idea of a boy holding me down, against any surface, in any position. Any way I pictured it, it made me uncomfortable. But I didn't know what rape was. I was only eight years old.

Jack rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine!” he snapped. “Just kiss her on the cheek and we can move on!” This was hard enough. This was awkward enough. Whatever rape was, this tiny peck was meant to stand in for it. To compound the strangeness, Jack knew James had a crush on me. Some perverse part of his eleven year old self knew the whole exercise was awkward for this seven year old boy and he wanted to make him uncomfortable. He wanted to make me uncomfortable. He wanted to both give James an opportunity with his crush even while relishing in the pain it would cause us both.

James flushed, leaned in, and kissed my cheek. My face a mask, I withstood the indignity. Jack grinned impishly.

“Okay, let's go!” Jack spun on his heels and took off running, James following quickly in an effort to avoid what just happened. I hesitated, giving them a head start, because of course, I wasn't sure how I felt about the situation myself.

Because I didn't know, I didn't tell anyone. I'm not sure Jack or James ever did either. If they did, they probably never said anything about that particular exchange. They probably never mentioned the fact that Jack, an eleven year old boy, ordered James, a seven year old boy, to pretend to rape me, an eight year old girl, in the course of play.

When I share this story, my husband tells me this is abnormal. Little boys don't play this way. Relaying the story makes his knuckles whiten and his jaw clench. His eyes water in a combination of frustration, anger, and disgust. He repeats himself.

"That is not normal, Alexis. Not normal."

But this was my experience. This kind of experience has marked my understanding of boys and men.

I can pull out a long list of times I have been hurt by both boys and men throughout my life because of my sex. It is extensive. It is disturbing. It is upsetting. It shouldn't be true, but it is.

So now, you wonder, why did she want to have a boy? Because I did. I absolutely wanted to have a boy. I wanted to have a boy so badly it hurt.

Because for me, raising a son would be redemptive. It would be an opportunity for me to raise a boy into a man who was compassionate - who saw all people around him as his equals - as human beings. I could raise an ally, as opposed to a predator. I could raise a gentleman.

And then there was the other side - the reason I didn't want to have a girl.

I didn't want to have a girl because I knew I couldn't protect her. I knew that no matter what I did, I couldn't save her from the realities of the world. At some point, I knew she would be stalked or harassed. I knew she would be offered a drugged drink. I knew someone would call her "bitch" or "slut" or ignore her very considered and valuable opinion just because she had a uterus and breasts.

I know if I had been pregnant with a girl I would have cried. I would have cried so hard, and long, and been so depressed, I don't know what I would have done. Because of boys like Jack. Because the world is so dangerous for women even still. Because men - and women - still don't admit the danger, and still blame women for it, even though the danger is perpetrated by boys and men.

And we raised them. Mothers and fathers raised these dangerous boys. We raised hecklers, abusers, and rapists. We raised them. We raised them because we didn't think about the shows they were watching. We raised them because we didn't tell them about our experiences of misogynist violence and how it affected our entire lives. We raised them because we didn't filter their music and movies. We raised them that way because we just laughed off their hitting the girl they liked because, "Ha, ha! Boys will be boys!"

I plan to tell Kiddo my story. My whole story. I plan to explain what happened to me and what effects it had. I plan to talk with him about what other boys do and say in his peer group. I plan to talk to him about how he interacts with girls. I plan to filter his music, movies, books, and shows. And if something contains questionable content, I plan to unpack it and answer his questions.

It's never too early to have these conversations. I know this because I knew boys - little boys - who were predators. I knew boys like Jack, who made it seem like this behavior was alright, even when it so obviously wasn't. I know if I wait, there could be consequences, the kind that ripple across people's lives. And I can't allow that. I won't leave my son's treatment of other people up to chance. I plan to raise a gentleman, a compassionate ally, a defender of people no matter their type. That is something that requires intention, and hopefully, a community of like-minded people committed to the same.

We can't have boys like Jack running around the world. Such boys do not turn into good men, and we're lying to ourselves if we think they can. Boys like Jack shouldn't be normal. They shouldn't even exist.

Raising Religious: Keeping Kids in Faith

"Love Can Change The World"

If you are familiar with my writing, or have been following me for any length of time, you are aware that I am a religious person. Yes, I am part of the Christian minority (Seriously - how many people still go to church every Sunday?).

Now, I have blogged about this on my religion blog before (ages ago) but I'm kind of going through a whole "Alexis' idiosyncratic parenting philosophy" series on Raising An Alien (RAA), so I figured I would write about raising religion, or faith, or spirituality (three in one? heh heh...).

I have heard many arguments against religion over the course of my short time on earth. Of course, you say. How could you not? I mean, having two parents who are ordained ministers, it would be impossible not to hear EVERYTHING both for, and against. Sadly, I think the arguments about religion tend to go super emotional without much supportive evidence. This is particularly true once you head into the extreme ends of the spectrum. This is a disservice to everyone.

While I freely admit critics raise some important points, there are some things that parents need to seriously consider when choosing how to raise their children regarding religious communities.

Frankly I had given up on finding a good church before having Kiddo. I was tired of boring hymns from the 19th and early 20th century. I was tired of trying to find the right level of progressive theology. I tired of trying to find a church where there were a few people under the age of 55. But then I decided to let go of this mythical creature in favor of a church that was close.

I gave up this unicorn when I became pregnant for a few reasons, but there were three major ones. First, I wanted my son to have a clear spiritual path, with a related internally consistent ethical code. The reason is that while I could let kiddo "make his own choices" without a solid base from which to understand faith and spirituality, he wouldn't have the vocabulary to dive into this realm. Without exposure to religion, to spirituality, there is little chance he would find this important to his spiritual development. Judging by the emptiness I often hear people without faith discuss, this base of understanding is something worth giving to Kiddo. I can say for myself, that scripture and spiritual discussion as well as ritual have many life affirming and psychic benefits (anything from general well-being, to inner peace, to broadening perspective, to experiencing spiritual joy).

As for the associated code of ethics, some may question the type of morality associated with religions or say that morals can be taught with humanist philosophies. This may be true, but I feel the deep socialization associated with progressive religion has such a strong pull, that it is next to impossible to root out. Personally, I like the idea of Kiddo having a strong sense of compassion and a drive to volunteer, to serve his community, rooted in his understanding of faith. The example of Jesus, for example, is a powerful one, one that has inspired the creation of many non-profit organizations that continue to make an important impact in people's lives across the world. What a wonderful thing to encourage in a child!

The final major reason thing is to give Kiddo a community. The benefits of religious communities cannot be overestimated. I know this from personal experience when Christian lost his job in San Francisco. We had only been attending a church for a few months and they were amazing. They threw us a baby shower at the last minute. They gave us enough food to last several months. Some of these people didn't know our names. I didn't know all their names. Some of them, the first time I talked with them was after they handed me a check or a package of receiving blankets. EVERY SINGLE church I have ever attended has been like this. They welcomed and supported us with open arms. They invited us to participate in service events. They invited us to dinner at different families' homes. They became family, no matter how short our attendance. I can attest to my atheist and agnostic friends frustration at not having a similar type of community, but that is the thing. God - the divine - has a strong pull in a way that other ideas and beliefs do not.

The combination of spiritual nourishment, morals, and community is not just attractive, it is an undeniably powerful gift a parent can give her child.  All religions have their particular combination of these three items, and ultimately what a parent chooses will be directly related to their own upbringing. I don't judge one to be better than another. And it may be that Kiddo will decide to renounce Christianity as an adult and convert to Judaism or Hinduism. Maybe he will renounce belief altogether.

Do I care? Well, maybe a little. But more than caring whether or not he goes to church with me as an adult, I care about how he is socialized. I care about the morals and values I instill. I care about making conscious decisions regarding these things, and I care about how supported he feels as he grows up. It is my personal feeling that raising him in a religious community will give him the most support and spiritual nourishment he can get. I love how he has a community of adults who love him and support him. I love how he will be connected to people across the world by scripture, music, ritual, holidays, and ethics. I love that he will have a solid base from which to build his spiritual understanding, and then, when he is old enough to explore these things on his own, that he will have the spiritual vocabulary to do so.

It is through these things I hope to raise a thoughtful, well-rounded, well-grounded human being, and ultimately, isn't that every parent's hope?

New Year's Resolutions

I recently read that parents should have resolutions for their kids...or that kids should have their own resolutions. I''ve also read that resolutions don't work, that you should instead have something that you can really follow and implement consistently.

With all these things in mind, I am resolved to the following for 2015:

Kiddo can play with any safe toy he wants. Pink. Turquoise. Bedazzled. Glitter coated. If he loves it and it is age appropriate, it's good.

I will continue to honor his preferences - however they may change or develop.

I will continue to cloth diaper...intermittently as his body's needs and our water shortage shift and change (this way I don't feel too guilty for using so much water on laundry or throwing away disposables).

I will try to expose him to a variety of good foods and hold off on junk as long as humanly possible (despite the mockery of various people in my life as I refuse to let him have chocolate etc).

Kiddo can have as many bananas as he wants.

We will have dance parties once a day to music like Pentatonix.

Kiddo can nurse as often as he likes.

I will continue to help him develop various skills by playing games, singing, talking, and reading with him.

Kiddo will continue to have routines, boundaries, and rules appropriate for his age.

I will make sure I get my needs met so I can be the best mom I can be.

We will snuggle at least twice a day.

Here's to a fantastic new year of reasonably raising an alien!

From Two to Three and Back Again

I feel like I have motherhood down. I mean, we have routines. I research milestones before we reach them, and potential difficulties, and we are prepared beforehand. We have strong bonds: Kiddo is close to his grandparents, Christian, and myself. He eats veggies and fruit. He nurses. He likes books. He plays by himself now. Things are going well.

Of course, just because I have the mother thing down does not mean that I have the wife and self thing down. Having a baby changes who you are and your relationship with your partner. The rebalancing act required to manage those pieces is still happening over a year after Kiddo's birth. Differences in expectations came out and continue to be managed (Think: "No, playing on your phone is not watching Kiddo!" "But everything has to be PERFECT!" "I need alone time too!" "I'm really tired!").

It was clear that both Christian and I needed to be clear about what kind of parents we wanted to be as well as how we need to parent together. This was necessary not only to have a united front for when Kiddo can talk, but also for us as partners.

And then there was the issue of you know, spending time together as a couple apart from anything parent related.

I've mentioned before this past year has been rough - for many reasons. Slowly Christian and I have been wading through the quagmire and coming to a clearer better place. It has taken many late night talks, and fights, and whine fests to our respective support systems. Honestly, I still don't know what that better place means, or what all the details will be, but I am feeling better about many things.

The good moments are becoming more frequent. Our equilibrium is slowly returning. After doctoral applications (mine) are in and Ducati video classes (his) are done, I see dates in our future. Maybe even before then. And that's pretty exciting.

It is easy to forget about your partner as your partner after becoming parents, however you must remember. Integrating the new identity "parent" is part of that puzzle. Figuring out how to manage your relationship around that role is essential. This is how you truly move from committed couple or parent and child to a complete family. It may take work. It may be hard. But it is definitely worth it.

Postpartum Weight Loss: The Next Steps

45 pounds. Since the last day of pregnancy that is how much I've lost.

It isn't as fast as it could have been. I still have further to go to reach my goal weight. Still...the fat I gained from pregnancy is gone and muscle has officially taken up residency.

I'm proud of the change because it isn't just the disappearing fat and increasing muscle. It's also lifestyle changes. I feel wrong when I miss a workout. I feel icky when I indulge a little too much on a weekend. It doesn't have to do with guilt either - it has to do with where I am in relation to my goals, my mood, and my energy.

Plain and simple: when I eat well and workout, I feel better.

This is exactly what I wanted and continue to want for myself. I want to model this behavior for Kiddo. I want him to be excited about good foods and physical activity. Sure, I have my cheating moments. I'm not perfect and I know I need to indulge a little every now and then...but I never go completely off track.

This week I started T25 and I have to say I was psyched. The beginning of the week felt easy, mostly because I just finished Jillian Michaels' sado-masochistic Body Revolution. Then I started pushing myself harder and today my double workout was tougher. My muscles are pleasantly sore from yesterday's session and I couldn't be happier.

My plan is to be more on board with the nutrition plan with this program. Because Kiddo nurses less, I feel more comfortable doing that. I think the slowness of my weight loss has a lot to do with my nutrition more than my activity. With that change, I feel confident I can reach my goal. If I hunker down and drop at least 35 pounds of fat and increase my lean muscle, I will be quite happy (I do have it to lose, believe me!). That will put me at my goal.

How long do I have? I'm giving myself until Christmas (though it may happen before then). If I reach it my plan is to buy a Betty Page dress, a bathing suit, and a pair of shorts.

And they will be perfect. I mean perfect.

I think that is a great way to start off 2015, don't you?

What has been your mommy weight loss journey? Leave a comment below!