I've always seemed to have opposite reactions, behaviors, etc as compared to my peers (or more specifically, my gender group), and while it's weaved its way in and out of my life, it's never been a bother to me. I played on a boys baseball team in 2nd grade when all the girls were trading stickers, was endlessly clutzy despite taking extra care to be aware of my surroundings, refused to play by the rules when it came to dating, gained weight when trying to diet. It was always something different, but I figured it made me quirky and likable.
This weekend, however, shed some light on one other difference I have...one that I already knew about but just realized is upsetting me. Women, food, weight, size, shape. Today's standards say that women need to be thin, Hollywood displays their photos and interviews of actresses and models proudly maintaining a tiny waist and only indulging in "guilty pleasure" foods once every blue moon. I have always had a healthy appetite, never paid any mind to how I looked compared to other girls, and felt that more emphasis should be made on HEALTH and not what was trending at the moment (Atkins, anyone?).
I'm healthy in my food habits, physical activity, I don't smoke and only drink in (mild) moderation. I don't eat fast foods. But my body shape is curvier than most, and I'm OK with that. I love eating, and cooking, and food is like art for me. However, in the extreme heat of the summer, work stress, and general life adjustments has caused a notable loss of appetite for me. I only reluctantly cook dinner (it helps when you have someone to cook for), breakfast tastes like cardboard, and lunch is the only time I can muster up any interest in eating. This has been going on for about 3 months...and as such my pants no longer fit. I have to hitch them up walking up stairs, for fear that my polka dotted undies will be on display by the time I reach the top. I am disheartened by this. See? Opposite! I am saddened not because a few inches have disappeared and my toosh is no longer holding my pants up...but because food is not a joyful experience anymore.
My trip to the mountains of Tennessee this past weekend gave me a brief reprieve from my lack of caloric-intake though...the high elevation or the mountain air simply made me ravenous. It was such pleasure to feel happy about eating again. I felt actual hunger pains and physically craved full meals. I suppose it's not abnormal to have a desire to eat, but for the modern woman it likely would be outside the norm. How sad! How unfortunate that there are women (and men, too) who wish they had no appetite so they could lose weight. This past weekend was fabulous for me, and I was disappointed that I only gained 2 pounds back (out of the 28 that I have lost since June). This means I have to bite the bullet and buy new pants now, since I've been putting it off and just looking silly with my baggy pants.
Now that I'm back in Hotlanta, the appetite is mysteriously gone again. I found myself depressed at dinner tonight, and Josh asked me if anything was wrong. My mournful reply? "I wish we were back in the mountains so I would want to eat again!" I have two wishes. 1 - that the heat wave goes away and my appetite comes back and 2 - that more women would challenge themselves to simply be healthy and happy and not have the lense focused on whether they fit the standard model for beauty....to take ownership of their curves, soft bellies, stretch marks, and larger pant sizes.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
the moon up above me brilliantly shines
I've never been one to advocate for reality-based television programming, as in most cases it's mindless drivel that the fat cats profit off of without actually doing anything (you know, like hiring quality writers) aside from installing the prerequisite hot tub and stocked bar. I am part of the Real World generation, and grew up in an era where reality tv went from new-and-interesting to having every single major network featuring their own brand of 20-somethings being "real" in extraordinary situations (Survivor anyone?). Now reality tv is a cliche in and of itself. But there's enough diversity in these scenarios per series that you're bound to find something to your liking. Me...it's the ones that intrigue my inner psychology geek. Intervention, Obsessed, The OCD project. But being stuck at home for the long holiday weekend I tuned into the True Life marathon, and found myself depressed at today's current state of affairs instead of being intellectually stimulated.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am hugely pro-gay rights. I have family and friends alike who are gay, and I've been involved in the gay rights movement for over a decade now. I've protested, donated, supported, and been the best friend or family member I could to those that came out to me. But I think even then I haven't given enough thought about the minute details that those in the gay community have had to experience.
This episode of True Life depicted three individuals who recently had come out, and how their lives had been effected since then. What I gleaned from their stories were very upsetting to me, and it makes me furious to even think that those I care about may have had to experience it.
Picture you and your significant other. Now picture going to the airport to drop off your SO, where you wouldn't see each other for many months. What do you do? Shake hands, exchange verbal goodbyes, and go your separate ways? No, you hug, kiss, cry, hold hands, whisper how much you'll miss them and love them. For many who are out, or struggling to come out - cannot express their basic and human right to do this if they fear they are in an area where a homophobe could pass judgment or even worse - threaten physical abuse. Even a curious onlooker could be a source of offense, if you are trying to hold your partner's hand in public (as any other couple in love/like/etc would do) and you see strangers staring like you're a 5-headed beast.
Even further...those in the gayborhood have to consider their "out" status and compare it to those they are considering dating/having a relationship with - if you have been out longer than this person has been, your emotional development may be at completely different places and not compatible. Think about it like this - if you were a virgin, on your first date, and your date had been in multiple long-term relationships and was already sexually active....how long do you think it will take for that "talk" to come up? How frustrating it must be for the more mature partner, and how scary it must be for the newbie?
Coming out to other people, family, friends, employers, etc...it just seems so unfair that it's even an issue. When I came home with my first boyfriend, no one questioned it, I didn't have to talk to my parents and say "I'm hetero, I hope you'll be ok with me dating dudes"...because honestly? It's no one's damn business who I'm attracted to except for the person I'm pursuing.
I also recognize that because I date men (or rather, just the one lol), my community identifies me as a hetero and thusly I am to some degree shoved into the "majority" group and there will always be a percent of those in the "minority" who do not value my support or empathy. And I so wish I could change their mind...there is a movement, and because you are coming out you get to be apart of it - but I've been in it too. I don't see you for your sexuality, I see you as the person you are to your friends, family, employer, community. Are you kind, caring, generous, funny? Are you loyal to loved ones, keep confidences, supportive to those who need help? Those are the only things I care about. Guess what...your race, religion, sexual orientation, weight, intelligence level, height, or ice cream preference have nothing to do with your ability to be or do those things for people.
What a curious world we live in...sometimes it feels so surreal, and I have to remind myself that even though I live my life without hate that there is still so much left of it in the world. Maybe one day I won't have to do that, and I can smile knowing my loved ones can be truly authentic everywhere they go.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am hugely pro-gay rights. I have family and friends alike who are gay, and I've been involved in the gay rights movement for over a decade now. I've protested, donated, supported, and been the best friend or family member I could to those that came out to me. But I think even then I haven't given enough thought about the minute details that those in the gay community have had to experience.
This episode of True Life depicted three individuals who recently had come out, and how their lives had been effected since then. What I gleaned from their stories were very upsetting to me, and it makes me furious to even think that those I care about may have had to experience it.
Picture you and your significant other. Now picture going to the airport to drop off your SO, where you wouldn't see each other for many months. What do you do? Shake hands, exchange verbal goodbyes, and go your separate ways? No, you hug, kiss, cry, hold hands, whisper how much you'll miss them and love them. For many who are out, or struggling to come out - cannot express their basic and human right to do this if they fear they are in an area where a homophobe could pass judgment or even worse - threaten physical abuse. Even a curious onlooker could be a source of offense, if you are trying to hold your partner's hand in public (as any other couple in love/like/etc would do) and you see strangers staring like you're a 5-headed beast.
Even further...those in the gayborhood have to consider their "out" status and compare it to those they are considering dating/having a relationship with - if you have been out longer than this person has been, your emotional development may be at completely different places and not compatible. Think about it like this - if you were a virgin, on your first date, and your date had been in multiple long-term relationships and was already sexually active....how long do you think it will take for that "talk" to come up? How frustrating it must be for the more mature partner, and how scary it must be for the newbie?
Coming out to other people, family, friends, employers, etc...it just seems so unfair that it's even an issue. When I came home with my first boyfriend, no one questioned it, I didn't have to talk to my parents and say "I'm hetero, I hope you'll be ok with me dating dudes"...because honestly? It's no one's damn business who I'm attracted to except for the person I'm pursuing.
I also recognize that because I date men (or rather, just the one lol), my community identifies me as a hetero and thusly I am to some degree shoved into the "majority" group and there will always be a percent of those in the "minority" who do not value my support or empathy. And I so wish I could change their mind...there is a movement, and because you are coming out you get to be apart of it - but I've been in it too. I don't see you for your sexuality, I see you as the person you are to your friends, family, employer, community. Are you kind, caring, generous, funny? Are you loyal to loved ones, keep confidences, supportive to those who need help? Those are the only things I care about. Guess what...your race, religion, sexual orientation, weight, intelligence level, height, or ice cream preference have nothing to do with your ability to be or do those things for people.
What a curious world we live in...sometimes it feels so surreal, and I have to remind myself that even though I live my life without hate that there is still so much left of it in the world. Maybe one day I won't have to do that, and I can smile knowing my loved ones can be truly authentic everywhere they go.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
it's been two long years since the top of the world came crashing down
What is the city but the people?
~William Shakespeare
~William Shakespeare
So I came back from a week long vacation that included stops in NH, CT, and NYC. Mind you, this was my first time ever visiting the Big Apple, and despite it being an abbreviated stay...I came to a few conclusions about NYC, metropolitan cities, and rural living.
I grew up mainly in rural to suburban towns...the former being where I spent most of my younger and subsequent formative years. Quiet country-side towns offering solace, a slower pace, and a sense of peaceful security. Roads so silent you could hear cars coming miles away before you ever saw them. Towns safe enough to forget about the badness out in the world. People know who you are even if they've never met you.
Suburbia is it's own bag of monkeys. Depending on how much the town has going for it, you may get through high school without the whole town knowing your business. They likely have other things to do than to talk about how you barfed during your SAT test. Suburbia can also be a very lonely place to grow up in. It's right in the middle of being just big enough but not too small where if you fall out of your group of friends, it's hard to find a new niche.
Ah, but the big city. It's the best of both. You can find a community of like-minded individuals or purposefully get lost in the sea of people. Atlanta fosters the southern hospitality, the diversity, and a plethora of dining and entertainment. You feel at home at your local grocery store, and love talking to the cashiers about whatever. The only common complaint about Atlanta is the public transit system being a big pile of crap.
New York. This one is tricky. It's a city made up of multiple burroughs, all unique in the community of people that inhabit each one. I learned a few things about how different this city is to my own...like how there are precious few grocery stores, and you live out of your local deli. You are better for befriending your deli guy. You take home what you can carry in two hands, since you don't have the benefit of pushing a cart out to your car to transport it home. You choose your residence based on how close it is to the subway, pub, and bagel shop. You also pay an arm and two legs for this convenience. As I said, I only spent about 24 hours here so what I'm about to say could be way off base...but this is what I gleaned from die-hard New Yorkers: often the things you hate about the city are the very things you love about it. I can get behind that. It's truly a grueling, unique, charming, filthy, beautiful, and personable city.
Now that I'm back in Atlanta...I can say a few more things:
1. I'm glad to be back, so I can continue walking at a much s l o w e r pace, and drive, and pay a pittance for food.
2. I missed Josh and the kitties while away, but it wasn't on my mind all day every day. I think it was good to go away...distance makes the heart grow fonder, eh?
3. I will go back to NYC and spend more time there. It meant a lot to see the things my brother loves about his new hometown, and meant even more to spend time with him and my cousin for an evening.
How do you see NYC?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
and the night shall be filled with music
Without music life would be a mistake. ~Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
People are, in essence, emotional beings. Whether or not they express it, the current of emotions runs just below the surface like a wellspring. Some people manage these feelings well, emoting at appropriate times; others emote often and at the wrong times (or for the wrong reasons). Then there are people like me...a true product of a very emotionful mother and a stoic father. My emotions run like a hot knife through butter all day long, just itching to be expressed...but I work to stay reserved and maintain objectivity. This can make it difficult to be expressive when I need to be because then it's like the dams were released.
Emotions can make people do damn near anything - good, bad, stupid, funny, and all that remains in between. Sometimes it makes people turn to vices to cope with it...food, drink, drugs, sex. My vice is music.
I am not musical, mind you. I can't read a note to save my life, nor can I sing one. But the kind of music that has been borne and created into the peaks and valleys of sound waves, buzzing out of a set of speakers...I turn to this when I need celebration, a soap box, solace, meditation...direction.
My cd and digital music collection, though not as expansive as some, is eclectic. This is because as wide-ranging my emotions can be, correlates to vast array of musical genres, eras, and popularity (in some cases, a lack thereof!). Sometimes, I keep songs on my iPod for the sake of nostalgia even if I don't actually like the artist or song itself (aka all the "slow dance" songs from 6th grade dances).
Music makes me feel young, old, happy, sad. I go through withdrawals without it. Sometimes I don't know how to be until I find the right song to listen to in that moment of time. It can put me to sleep or keep me awake; it can make me cry or help me share a laugh with a friend. It has even helped me fall in love.
My favorite musician/song/album depends not on the month, week, or even day. It varies by the hour or as often as my mood changes and how quickly my mood can be satisfied by the 3.5 minutes of orchestrated sound and lyric.
What does music do for you?
Regina Spektor - Us from The Staus House on Vimeo.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Home
The ubiquitous phrase "you can't go home again", from the American novelist Thomas Wolfe certainly has truth to it, a truth that often means more to me than I can say. I have indeed moved around a lot growing up and even letting the nomadic nature trickle into my adult life by choosing to move under my own volition so I remember wondering what he meant by this.
Wolfe's saying often is translated as that once you leave "home", leaving behind family and friends, house, employer, etc, that coming back you'll feel like the proverbial square peg in a round hole...that you'll feel the same but you look and see that everyone else has changed in your absence. You become rooted in the past, looking for something to hang onto so you still feel relevant. Conversations are oft reminiscent of the "good ol days", and the longer you stay in town, the less you feel you can move forward. Visits become shorter, less frequent to avoid the awkward silences and voids left by a lack of stories to share that haven't been revisited a dozen or so times already.
A less thought of version of this saying, is the unspoken belief that "returning" home indicates failure, should your return become an apparent permanency. This is my own personal fear. This fear struck me deeply when I lost my job last year...that if I lacked employment for too long that I would have to return, unable to do the one thing all children are raised to do at adulthood: provide for oneself. Pride can be a powerful source of fear I have discovered...for it is because of pride that we fear failure. Failure means something within ourselves that we have done incorrectly, failure many times means having to take responsibility, which pride does not allow us to do in negative situations.
Having the time to be contemplative and/or reflective of the last 3 or so years that I have been living here, 1800 miles away from my family, I think I've established enough experience, felt enough fear, failure, and pride, to say that 'going home again' can be a good thing. Whether it be a brief visit, or taking up residence in your parent's basement while you work your life out, you are still you, and your family is still your family. These are the people who watched you make mud puddles with dirt and soap (yes, true story) as a 3 year old, held your hair when you were sick in the middle of the night, made you feel like a superstar at your high school graduation, and call you on your shit when you act like a total spaz. Living away from your family for any period of time does not detract from that bond, whether you talk every day or twice a year.
Going home, for me, means having family dinners, snuggling with my sister, refusing to adjust the computer chair to my mother's standards when I'm done with it, harassing the family pets, making my father laugh uncontrollably until the veins in his forehead bust out, and being completely at ease with having to drive 30+ minutes in order to get anywhere remotely interesting. It also means ducking behind a shelf at the grocery store from people I went to school with so I don't have to talk to them.
Maybe good ol' Wolfe was like me. Afraid of townies and what it means to be one. Sprawling metropolis life does not a successful person make, but neither does the opposite. What does your measuring stick look like?
Wolfe's saying often is translated as that once you leave "home", leaving behind family and friends, house, employer, etc, that coming back you'll feel like the proverbial square peg in a round hole...that you'll feel the same but you look and see that everyone else has changed in your absence. You become rooted in the past, looking for something to hang onto so you still feel relevant. Conversations are oft reminiscent of the "good ol days", and the longer you stay in town, the less you feel you can move forward. Visits become shorter, less frequent to avoid the awkward silences and voids left by a lack of stories to share that haven't been revisited a dozen or so times already.
A less thought of version of this saying, is the unspoken belief that "returning" home indicates failure, should your return become an apparent permanency. This is my own personal fear. This fear struck me deeply when I lost my job last year...that if I lacked employment for too long that I would have to return, unable to do the one thing all children are raised to do at adulthood: provide for oneself. Pride can be a powerful source of fear I have discovered...for it is because of pride that we fear failure. Failure means something within ourselves that we have done incorrectly, failure many times means having to take responsibility, which pride does not allow us to do in negative situations.
Having the time to be contemplative and/or reflective of the last 3 or so years that I have been living here, 1800 miles away from my family, I think I've established enough experience, felt enough fear, failure, and pride, to say that 'going home again' can be a good thing. Whether it be a brief visit, or taking up residence in your parent's basement while you work your life out, you are still you, and your family is still your family. These are the people who watched you make mud puddles with dirt and soap (yes, true story) as a 3 year old, held your hair when you were sick in the middle of the night, made you feel like a superstar at your high school graduation, and call you on your shit when you act like a total spaz. Living away from your family for any period of time does not detract from that bond, whether you talk every day or twice a year.
Going home, for me, means having family dinners, snuggling with my sister, refusing to adjust the computer chair to my mother's standards when I'm done with it, harassing the family pets, making my father laugh uncontrollably until the veins in his forehead bust out, and being completely at ease with having to drive 30+ minutes in order to get anywhere remotely interesting. It also means ducking behind a shelf at the grocery store from people I went to school with so I don't have to talk to them.
Maybe good ol' Wolfe was like me. Afraid of townies and what it means to be one. Sprawling metropolis life does not a successful person make, but neither does the opposite. What does your measuring stick look like?
Monday, April 19, 2010
platonic soulmating
What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies. ~Aristotle
One of the perks to having your best friend also be your roommate and boyfriend is that you can always have random, meaningful, or outrageously funny conversations throughout the week. Josh and I have our fair share of these chats, and the one that came up tonight was about friends, friendship, and what we take from both of these.
He has a much more spartan take on developing friendships and finding friends, and he is merely happy to satiate his intellectual and social cravings with any ol' soul and goes home the better for it. A true social butterfly, if you will. Large or small crowds, people from all walks of life, long or short term communications...he will treat you with the utmost kindness and respect. You will benefit from talking with him and knowing him to whatever degree. His view and my view on friends and friendships are polar opposites but thankfully, he understands my more intimate take on things.
Me...well...I look for friends and friendships the way some women look for husbands. I crave deep, emotional connections with a smaller set. I moved around a lot when I was younger, and though I feel I have benefited from my experiences, I do regret not having those lifetime friendships. You know, where you met as babies in your moms' leche league or whatever...and you went to the same schools and shared your ups and downs as the years flew by. I didn't even get that experience through my extended family, as contact was minimal for my family growing up for whatever reasons. So over the years, I have found myself disliking large group outings or bar hopping or house parties, etc. I think that's why I didn't like college either, or rather, the college experience.
For me, going out with more than 3 or 4 other friends/acquaintences/etc means having idle chit chat, yelling over others to communicate with the person next to you, and likely dealing with a non-sober crowd...all of which means those several hours you just spent talking with however many individuals will have been all for nought. So...I ask, what is the point? If I'm looking to develop a close friendship, find a best friend, etc...why would I invest my time talking to someone who won't remember me in the morning? Let me point out...I do on occasion, go out on the town and enjoy the frivolities a 20-something can partake in...and I do find all those people quite lovely. But it never goes beyond that evening and I feel sort of used.
In an age of facebook and other social networking sites, it's almost become trendy to have hundreds of "friends", most of whom mean nothing to you, and I feel almost as if it has seeped into how we interact with others in real life. Meet you in a bar? Friend me! I'm on facebook! Buuut I'm going to limit my profile so you can't actually get to know me. Or I'll wait a few weeks and then delete you. What's the freaking point? Is it to socialize for the sake of socializing, as in Josh's case? Or have we just become a society of vapid friend-adding zombies?
I want a friend to be more than that. I want the whole deal, baggage and all, and I won't settle for less. If that makes me less interesting to my social butterfliers, that's ok. I love them all the more for it and I hope they find what they're looking for too <3
He has a much more spartan take on developing friendships and finding friends, and he is merely happy to satiate his intellectual and social cravings with any ol' soul and goes home the better for it. A true social butterfly, if you will. Large or small crowds, people from all walks of life, long or short term communications...he will treat you with the utmost kindness and respect. You will benefit from talking with him and knowing him to whatever degree. His view and my view on friends and friendships are polar opposites but thankfully, he understands my more intimate take on things.
Me...well...I look for friends and friendships the way some women look for husbands. I crave deep, emotional connections with a smaller set. I moved around a lot when I was younger, and though I feel I have benefited from my experiences, I do regret not having those lifetime friendships. You know, where you met as babies in your moms' leche league or whatever...and you went to the same schools and shared your ups and downs as the years flew by. I didn't even get that experience through my extended family, as contact was minimal for my family growing up for whatever reasons. So over the years, I have found myself disliking large group outings or bar hopping or house parties, etc. I think that's why I didn't like college either, or rather, the college experience.
For me, going out with more than 3 or 4 other friends/acquaintences/etc means having idle chit chat, yelling over others to communicate with the person next to you, and likely dealing with a non-sober crowd...all of which means those several hours you just spent talking with however many individuals will have been all for nought. So...I ask, what is the point? If I'm looking to develop a close friendship, find a best friend, etc...why would I invest my time talking to someone who won't remember me in the morning? Let me point out...I do on occasion, go out on the town and enjoy the frivolities a 20-something can partake in...and I do find all those people quite lovely. But it never goes beyond that evening and I feel sort of used.
In an age of facebook and other social networking sites, it's almost become trendy to have hundreds of "friends", most of whom mean nothing to you, and I feel almost as if it has seeped into how we interact with others in real life. Meet you in a bar? Friend me! I'm on facebook! Buuut I'm going to limit my profile so you can't actually get to know me. Or I'll wait a few weeks and then delete you. What's the freaking point? Is it to socialize for the sake of socializing, as in Josh's case? Or have we just become a society of vapid friend-adding zombies?
I want a friend to be more than that. I want the whole deal, baggage and all, and I won't settle for less. If that makes me less interesting to my social butterfliers, that's ok. I love them all the more for it and I hope they find what they're looking for too <3
Friday, April 16, 2010
satellite heart
I have a non-traditional relationship in a traditional world. I get that. Don't need to rehash it for the umpteenth time. And I think people are finally dropping the whole "when are you getting maaaaaaarried?!" and even have ceased with the blatantly rude comments about cows and free milk (whatever that old fashioned saying is)...so I'm free to go back and just live my life as I see fit.
However...this may peg me forever as a crazy cat lady, but I'm sick of getting ragged on for treating my pets as children. To me, they are. I have a great love for animals, and I see myself as a sort of protector of all things furry and warm-blooded. I am not here to dismiss the trials and tribulations of parenthood for parents of human-children, but to clarify and shed some light on the many, many similarities between parenting kids and parenting pets. Especially for those who are involved "pet parents", and not those who have pets for the sake of tradition or appearances' sake.
1. Sleep: My three cats have not allowed us a full-night's sleep in 3 years. Why? Same reasons a baby keeps you up for the first year or so of life. Scared of the dark. Wanting to be close to mom and dad. Hunger. Excitement and wanting to play. All of this leads up to development of 'schedules', where they begin to expect you to not go to sleep before a certain time, and be up the same time every morning. Regardless if it's the weekend or not. Denny traps you in the same position every night because he is stubborn and holds his own like Sherman on the highest hill of Atlanta. Charlie used to sleep on my pillow every night, right up until he got too big to fit. Now he sleeps on the floor where it's too dusty for him to cope with his allergies, and wakes us up multiple times a night having a coughing fit. Phoebe adores all things Daddy, and wraps herself around Josh's neck usually around 4am every night and purrs herself to sleep. We don't sleep for all those reasons.
2. Food: I have heard stories of my friends and when the mere idea of food pops into their child's head, eyes get as big as moons and they pitch a fit until they are satiated. This is much the same with my cats. Except I have to help maintain the peace since they all share a food bowl, even though they're supposed to eat different types of food. So I have to mix up the food in one container, and hope they get what they need from it and not overeat. Phoebe gets additional special foods for good growth and development, because I want to make sure she has the best start in life and her li'l kitty brain doesn't get tumors from eating shit food that pet food companies pass off as edible. They all yell at us if they aren't fed at the right times of day. They also beg at the dinner table, even though they don't know what human food tastes like.
3. Attention: As much as I would like to take a nap when I walk in the door at the end of the day, all three cats rush me and demand attention immediately. Again, I get yelled at if I don't submit. Each one of them requires individual acknowledgment, pets, cuddles, and the occasional throwing of a toy. If I don't provide equal attention, someone gets jealous (Charlie), who sulks off and refuses to play and get his daily allotment of exercise. This also leads to sibling rivalry and the breaking up of fights (see Discipline).
4. Health: Unlike children, you can't extend your health care plan to your pet. But you worry about their health just as much, but have to weigh between your penchant for worrywort-ism and the high cost of a vet bill. Phoebe got into the garbage again, did she eat anything harmful to her tummy? Is Charlie coughing because of a hairball, or is it his allergies and possible asthma? Did Denny go to the bathroom enough times today? These are all things that run through our minds each day, and we have to be good 'pet parents' and figure out what is an emergency and what is not.
5. Discipline: Pets need training, punishments and rewards just as rearing a child would require. It's just as annoying when a child draws on the linoleum as it is when a cat gets into the garbage can and tears up a roll of toilet paper for the umpteenth time even though you've been working to deter them of the bad behavior for weeks and months. It's just as frustrating when your disciplinary methods fail, and you question your ability to teach them the right behaviors.
6. Love: Unconditional love, regardless of the thing receiving it, is still a weighty and rewarding gift to give. It's also scary, because should the thing you love this deeply become harmed, hurt, or perish...the depths of your pain are bottomless. My phoebe had her spay surgery today, and I took the whole day off of work because I would be too distracted worrying if she was in pain, hurt, confused, scared, or lonely. All things I believe any parent doesn't want their child/pet/etc to experience ever in their life. The thing that sucks about being a pet parent is...your pet-child doesn't outlive you. You get about 10-15 years. I try not to think about that because I get too upset.
So. Now you know why, when people ask me about my timetable on procreation, I say "I'm already parenting three cats." and feel completely satisfied. Maybe human-babies will be in my future, maybe not. What's that saying? Don't fix what aint broke? I'm happy and maintaining the status quo is good enough for me.
here's to parents, of all kinds, everywhere. <3
However...this may peg me forever as a crazy cat lady, but I'm sick of getting ragged on for treating my pets as children. To me, they are. I have a great love for animals, and I see myself as a sort of protector of all things furry and warm-blooded. I am not here to dismiss the trials and tribulations of parenthood for parents of human-children, but to clarify and shed some light on the many, many similarities between parenting kids and parenting pets. Especially for those who are involved "pet parents", and not those who have pets for the sake of tradition or appearances' sake.
1. Sleep: My three cats have not allowed us a full-night's sleep in 3 years. Why? Same reasons a baby keeps you up for the first year or so of life. Scared of the dark. Wanting to be close to mom and dad. Hunger. Excitement and wanting to play. All of this leads up to development of 'schedules', where they begin to expect you to not go to sleep before a certain time, and be up the same time every morning. Regardless if it's the weekend or not. Denny traps you in the same position every night because he is stubborn and holds his own like Sherman on the highest hill of Atlanta. Charlie used to sleep on my pillow every night, right up until he got too big to fit. Now he sleeps on the floor where it's too dusty for him to cope with his allergies, and wakes us up multiple times a night having a coughing fit. Phoebe adores all things Daddy, and wraps herself around Josh's neck usually around 4am every night and purrs herself to sleep. We don't sleep for all those reasons.
2. Food: I have heard stories of my friends and when the mere idea of food pops into their child's head, eyes get as big as moons and they pitch a fit until they are satiated. This is much the same with my cats. Except I have to help maintain the peace since they all share a food bowl, even though they're supposed to eat different types of food. So I have to mix up the food in one container, and hope they get what they need from it and not overeat. Phoebe gets additional special foods for good growth and development, because I want to make sure she has the best start in life and her li'l kitty brain doesn't get tumors from eating shit food that pet food companies pass off as edible. They all yell at us if they aren't fed at the right times of day. They also beg at the dinner table, even though they don't know what human food tastes like.
3. Attention: As much as I would like to take a nap when I walk in the door at the end of the day, all three cats rush me and demand attention immediately. Again, I get yelled at if I don't submit. Each one of them requires individual acknowledgment, pets, cuddles, and the occasional throwing of a toy. If I don't provide equal attention, someone gets jealous (Charlie), who sulks off and refuses to play and get his daily allotment of exercise. This also leads to sibling rivalry and the breaking up of fights (see Discipline).
4. Health: Unlike children, you can't extend your health care plan to your pet. But you worry about their health just as much, but have to weigh between your penchant for worrywort-ism and the high cost of a vet bill. Phoebe got into the garbage again, did she eat anything harmful to her tummy? Is Charlie coughing because of a hairball, or is it his allergies and possible asthma? Did Denny go to the bathroom enough times today? These are all things that run through our minds each day, and we have to be good 'pet parents' and figure out what is an emergency and what is not.
5. Discipline: Pets need training, punishments and rewards just as rearing a child would require. It's just as annoying when a child draws on the linoleum as it is when a cat gets into the garbage can and tears up a roll of toilet paper for the umpteenth time even though you've been working to deter them of the bad behavior for weeks and months. It's just as frustrating when your disciplinary methods fail, and you question your ability to teach them the right behaviors.
6. Love: Unconditional love, regardless of the thing receiving it, is still a weighty and rewarding gift to give. It's also scary, because should the thing you love this deeply become harmed, hurt, or perish...the depths of your pain are bottomless. My phoebe had her spay surgery today, and I took the whole day off of work because I would be too distracted worrying if she was in pain, hurt, confused, scared, or lonely. All things I believe any parent doesn't want their child/pet/etc to experience ever in their life. The thing that sucks about being a pet parent is...your pet-child doesn't outlive you. You get about 10-15 years. I try not to think about that because I get too upset.
So. Now you know why, when people ask me about my timetable on procreation, I say "I'm already parenting three cats." and feel completely satisfied. Maybe human-babies will be in my future, maybe not. What's that saying? Don't fix what aint broke? I'm happy and maintaining the status quo is good enough for me.
here's to parents, of all kinds, everywhere. <3
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