Just Because

I touched on something in my last post I want to circle back around on, because it deserves a post of its own and a discussion of its own.

There is no happier cowgirl in the world today #allhailhala

My daughter’s reaction upon hearing we’ve never had a woman president.

I guess it just didn’t really occur to me that she had thought about it yet, or noticed. Or hadn’t noticed, as the case may be.

The questions came fast and furious and I didn’t have many answers.

Why hasn’t there been a woman president?

Why aren’t there that many women in Congress?

Why don’t people elect women?

Why did they not give women the right to vote?

Why did it take so long?

Why would they tell women no?

Why would anyone DO THAT MOM?

I did the best I could. I explained to her, as well as I possibly could, why our history was unkind and still can be very unkind to females. I tried to explain the patriarchy. I tried to explain what we face as women.

But I don’t feel I told her everything or anything close to what she needed to know.

The look on her face said it all as we talked. She was shell-shocked. I had shattered her fairy tale. I had shattered the way she thought the world worked.

I had been the one to break the news to her that because she was a girl, her life would be different. Even if every word I said tried to convey that she could do anything, be anything, go anywhere.

I also did my best to empower her. Steel her. Strengthen her and hold her close. I told her of amazing women who fought to make sure we were given equality. So that SHE could vote, run for office, become the first woman president.

Yet I feel, as I told her these stories, I stole a piece of her innocence.

As we hugged and kissed goodnight, and I scrambled for even more words to try to comfort the look of disbelief in her eyes…it was she who comforted me.

Mom, I know I told you I wanted to be a cowgirl, and maybe a Mom, and maybe own a ranch. But I think I’ll be President too. I just want to now…just because.

And I understood, perfectly…just because.

Why I’m Taking My Two Kids & Ailing Body Across the Country

There comes a time when you have to stand up for what you believe…even if that means sitting down.

Let me explain.

I’m arranging to home school my children after Labor Day so we can travel across the country to stay with family. I’ll be using my wheelchair, on doctor’s orders, sitting because the recent and triumphant trip to New York did flare my Lupus a bit. But not enough to keep me down.

We plan on arriving in North Carolina just after Labor Day, resting with family and spending time at our first visit to a military base.

I will then charge up my body as best I can and charge up their minds as best I can so we can head to Charlotte on Thursday, September 6th to attend President Obama’s nomination speech at the Democratic National Convention.

The kids understand the Affordable Health Care Act is something President Obama did that helps their Mom with her Lupus. They don’t understand HAMP 2.0 and ACA also have saved us from foreclosure, but that’s not something we want to worry them with.

The kids understand President Obama wants everyone to be equal, including friends they love of Mom and Dad’s who have spent holidays in our home. They agree it’s wrong to keep those friends from marrying who they love. They also agree it’s wrong to keep women from being paid the same as men. Everyone should be equal. Always.

The look on my daughter’s face when I told her there has never been a women President said it all.

We’re coming to Charlotte. We’re going to witness history. With my doctor giving me all the medication and treatment I need to get across the country, rest, and then strict orders to give some media interviews and only attend the speech…followed by MORE rest before we are allowed to fly home, we’re COMING TO CHARLOTTE.

Because it is that important. 

Because it is once-in-a-lifetime for my children to see the first African-American President speak to the American people as he seeks re-election.

Because they attend a public school charter that allows them the flexibility to learn outside the classroom. They will learn about government, media, social issues, activism, and how to form their own opinions on what they believe.

Because in this election, our family is literally the billboard for what this administration has accomplished for those who NEED help in this economy.

No one should lose their home because they get sick.

No one should be worried more about how much their treatment will cost, instead of which treatment their doctor prescribes in order for their survival.

No one should have to be forced to stay in a school that kills and drills, and only awards children based on standardized tests.

No one should be a pre-existing condition simply by being born a woman.

No one should have control over a woman’s body but the woman herself.

No one should tell anyone they can not marry the person they love.

No one should take a mother from her children too soon because she couldn’t afford her medication, her hospital bill, or that IV she gets every few weeks.

No one should be content to watch this November.

We’re getting on a plane, we’re showing the country there is nothing that will keep this family down and we will fight for those who fight for US. 

We’re headed to Charlotte, North Carolina to support President Obama and Vice President Biden because it matters too much to our family NOT to.

IMG_20120825_125855

Thank you to family and Obama For America for making this possible. 

Education Talk With the Obama 2012 Team: Thinking Outside the Box

There has never been a moment where my family or my children have fit inside the box.

I’ve talked before as to why we have chosen to send our kids to a public charter school, as opposed to our neighborhood school. And I’ve talked a million times about our family’s quirks and progressive attitude when it comes to education.
You know your kids are in the right school when this is what greets them every morning

I am the product of a public school education. It never even occurred to me that we’d consider anything else for our children unless the public schools near our home were failing.

Of course the public schools in our very nice suburb of Los Angeles are nowhere near failing and they excel by every standard used to measure a typical American public school.

Unfortunately, that amazing, typical, American public school nearly sucked the life out of my then-5 year old son as he stood against a brick wall, watching the other children play at recess. His crime? Not sitting still during story time.

But this is how it went with 36 kindergarteners and one teacher. This is what you did in order to make sure everyone could fill in that bubble properly and sit still while doing it. Distractions, such as my son’s pencil twirling, was an offense worthy of punishment. A punishment that forced his tiny body to unnaturally hold in all that energy again, when it should be setting it free on the playground.

After one tearful parent-teacher conference my husband and I knew this was not the education we wanted for our son, or for our daughter who would be following in his footsteps in just a few short years. But what is a middle class family to do when they can’t afford private school and neither parent can home school?

We are not alone. Millions of parents have round peg kids being stuffed into square holes.

So when I had a chance to talk with Former Director of the White House Domestic Policy Council Melody Barnes for a few minutes this week I had a million questions, as any parent would. But I took to facebook and twitter and asked YOU what you wanted to hear and know from this administration.

Some highlights from the conference call (you can see the tweets with the hashtag #edu2012 here): the administration says they understand standardized tests are only ONE way to measure how well a child is learning, a teacher is teaching, and how a school is performing. They are working to measure in other ways.

That idea from Barnes made me very happy. To finally come up with ways to measure how the WHOLE student is learning, not just the bubble filling in, memorizing and then forgetting portion of the child.

Barnes said they aren’t talking about ditching tests all together, but also assessing critical thinking skills and supporting teachers in trying to make those assessments. Of course none of this is easy to do.

And I understand entirely. We get those STAR test results at our house and stomachs churn. But then our teachers remind us this is just ONE way they can tell if a student is learning. Just one.

And then of course there was discussion about the differences between what an Obama 2nd term would do (and what the first term has done) and what a Romney-Ryan administration would do. Let’s just say they are worlds apart. WORLDS.

President Obama has expanded Head Start, he has used savings from student loan reform to fund and expanded Pell grants. Romney/Ryan would roll all this back.

One of the questions I asked was about teachers in this country, and how we save their jobs. So many seem to have been laid off, when what we need are MORE in the classroom. The Obama administration has fought to SAVE  hundreds of thousands of teacher jobs across the country, while Mitt Romney has been quoted (and his surrogates have since defended) saying he would slash funding for teachers, firefighters, and police officers.

And of course I had to ask if there was anyway Congress might be provided basic biology and sex ed courses, given the idiotic and entirely uneducated statements by Rep. Todd Akin on rape and the female reproductive system. I was glad to have gotten a chuckle from the Obama team, but also a very serious answer, reminding those of us on the call that the choice for women and families could not be more clear come November.

If you want more information on the Obama/Biden education plan you can find plenty over at BarackObama.com – and if you have any questions for the Obama/Biden team, I have been given the ok to send over a few more questions so please, ask away in the comments below and I will do my best to get you answers.

 

12

Happy Anniversary.

12 years - 8-19-00

I’d like the next 12 to be filled with more laughter, love, and just plain old fun.

12 years!!!!

The Mom Nagging Machine

There was a time when ‘back to school’ meant nothing more than a new backpack and some crayons.

Today my daughter and I looked, and bought, some ‘undershirts’ as opposed to ‘training bras’ because she has reached that age where she needs to wear something under her sundresses and under her white t-shirts.

Her brother, blushing, rolled his eyes and turned around to try to ‘unsee’ the girl things we needed to accomplish while at the store. Being the pain I am, I explained to him this was a great learning experience about women and he needed to understand that his sister was growing up and she couldn’t be flashing the top half of her body to strangers.

Which always turns into silly time

After doing his best to squirm and avert his eyes from the display of training bras and bras for tweens, he actually agreed…

Well, boys look at those things. Yes Mom, I know, girls look too…you’re right, she needs to make sure she’s covered.

Hmmm…wait, Did he just call breasts ‘those things?’ And was this the message I wanted to send? That the women of the family had to cover themselves in order to be proper?

I stopped myself as we looked at undershirts and talked to them both as they again rolled their eyes and leaned against the cart.

It’s not that we want her to cover herself. We know being naked isn’t a big deal. And she’s beautiful. It’s just that in our society there are some people who will try to look at her inappropriately, just like we talk about private areas and who can see them and touch them…

Oh man, now I’m getting way off track. This is hard.

…and we’re just making sure her privates are covered as she wears certain things, that’s all.

This parenting stuff is ridiculous. I’m flunking this. Please God let this moment go away forever because right now it seems like nothing I say is right, or coming out right…or what I’m trying to convey. I’m just trying to buy her a few more undershirts, THAT IS ALL.

Then I glance up at the display in front of us. I hadn’t really studied it until now. Bras, training bras, what look like sports bras, undershirts. And then…what I swear to God are PADDED BRAS FOR LITTLE GIRLS.

My daughter is handing this like a champ.

Mom I already have that white one at home, so how about these pink and purple fun ones that are like half undershirts… and let’s go.

Sold.

My son can’t get out of there quick enough and leads us to semi-safety where we have to then pick out underwear. This seems like nothing compared to bra-hell.

But I can’t keep my mind from going back to what I am pretty sure I just saw. Padded bras.

The Judy Blume years of my life come rushing back.

I was never in need of KLeenex. I developed well before any of the other girls and I had plenty to go around. A blessing and a curse for a young girl. The boys ogled and feared me. The girls hated me. All because I had big boobs.

My daughter isn’t built anything like I was at that age. But with any hope she’ll be able to talk to me about body image issues she may come across and we can giggle over the difference of being one of the girls who could give herself a black eye in gym class or one of the girls who was flat as a pancake.

I want, so badly, to ask the kids if they saw the bras hanging there. What they thought about them. But I know the agony this will cause my son, who is working through his prepubescent feelings. And I know it will only cause my daughter to think about it MORE, and her body MORE…which I don’t really want her to do just yet.

Not because she shouldn’t explore what’s going on with her body, or question why she needs to cover her nipples or any of those things…but because there is so so so much time in a woman’s life to worry about what we look like. To think about our breasts, our noses, our asses. If I bring up the padded bras, that just gets her thinking about it all. And I really don’t want her going down that road. Especially when I seem so ill prepared to discuss and help her young mind through all the bullshit.

Sigh. I just wanted to buy some crayons. A pack or two of pencils.

Instead I feel like I had this perfect opportunity in front of me to teach both of my kids about respect, beauty, and body image…and I stumbled and stammered and wished one of my son’s inventions had become a reality.

He has this idea for a hook up between our brains, so I can automatically give him all my knowledge and he doesn’t have to listen to me explain or make guesses when I can’t seem to phrase things in a way he can grasp.

I think the idea actually came out of Mom Nagging, but whatever. I’d take it right now.

I’d even wear a padded bra on my head ala Weird Science. Although, there is no way my very embarrassed son would.

We might have to give that invention a few more years.

NYC’s Toll

I’ve been home from New York for nearly a week now…and I’m still recovering. Emotionally. Physically.

It was a much needed trip to add some normalcy to our otherwise ‘school, work, doctor’ routine. It was a much needed trip to remind me that I am more than my illness and I am capable of greatness even with this illness.

But most importantly, it reminded me of how far we’ve come.

This carefree couple that haphazardly ended up together in the oddest of ways, never fully believing what we were doing until we were so far in we couldn’t imagine life any other way. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows and everything in between. I was content to just have some time in a quiet hotel room with my best friend, spending more than a few minutes without being interrupted by the need for more chocolate milk or help with a video game.

And then returning home with a thud, as most vacations do, to absent chauffeurs and delayed flights and kids in need of extra attention and cars breaking down and doctors delivering treatment and news of what a simple flight across the country does to my body.

But we did it. And we had fun. And I managed to remind myself OF myself while there. The self he fell in love with that I am fighting to bring back through all this bullshit piled on us. Just being capable of doing it helped me reach an arm out and break through- grabbing him and holding tight.

He’s still here. I’m still here.

NYC, I thank you, even if you battered me a bit. As my doctor said…’these numbers are nothing compared to the smile I see on your face. Next time I’ll send you for longer!’

My man of steel @aaronvest is taking me to the natural history museum via wheelchair 'cause he's badass with potholes in NYC

BlogHer 2012: In New York, There’s Nothing You Can’t Do

I will admit it: I’m a blog snob.

Those silly fashion blogs? Pfffft. So long as they don’t take over the political news of the day, or the REAL news (as I stand tall and like to remark) then fine, they can have a headline or two. But they aren’t important and are fluff and as far as I’m concerned have no place getting higher ratings or more coverage than what I consider to be more important- real news.

So when the BlogHer team asked me to be a model in the first EVER BlogHer fashion show this year at BlogHer ’12 in New York, I had to laugh.

Hard.

Not only was I being asked to participate in a space I had very little respect for, but I was struggling with coming to terms with a body that is not my own. One I have written about time and time again since I began steroid treatment for Lupus. The dramatic shift from my 119lbs self to my now steroid induced 219lbs self has been life changing. Nearly as life changing as the disease trying to kill me.

The truth of the matter is I have not felt beautiful, or even comfortable, in a long time. 18 months, to be exact. I’ve learned to shop in the plus sized section, and cry when things even there didn’t fit.

I sobbed uncontrollably when all I wanted to hear from those I love was “you are beautiful no matter what” – which was said early on but after so long that sort of talk seems frivolous. Ok so I haven’t heard it in 15 months, to be exact. Not because they don’t love me, but because it seems unimportant in the sea of things going on. Treatment, medication, plans of action. My appearance should be the least of anyone’s worries and it would be insulting to even bring it up. Vain maybe. And down right stupid.

But as it turns out, you notice and remember things when you don’t recognize the person looking back at you in the mirror. You crave to know you are still beautiful to those who love you, if not in words, than in a kiss on the forehead or an arm around the waist. But that waist is now double in size. The forehead round and moon shaped from the drugs, and I certainly wasn’t feeling worthy of a kiss.

That’s not the Erin I know. But I was cutting her some slack, considering the hell we were going through.

Everyone treats you differently as a big girl too. Everyone. My kids love “squishy” Mommy. In fact they want to make sure I don’t lose ALL the weight I have gained as I diet because they insist some squish remain for cuddle time.

Then I realized how the outside world treats larger people. They aren’t nearly as nice to me as they used to be. At first I was angry, I wanted to wear a big sign that said “I AM ON A STEROID THAT SAVED MY LIFE THIS IS WHY I AM FAT.” And then I got even more angry, realizing that no one deserves to be treated differently simply based on looks and size. From those of us here involuntarily to those beautiful women born with curves to people who just are who they are.

So I said yes to being a model. Because my self-esteem needed a boost, I knew I had to learn about other blog communities, and most importantly, I wanted to show the world every size, shape, and sass of a woman is beautiful.

But could I really do it? Could I walk a runway in front of hundreds in New York knowing full well I’d be in tears and hating the body I’m supposed to show off and love? Would it be a big lie?

No. No. I could do it. I just had to believe. I had to believe, I had to get comfortable in this body of mine, and I had to own who I am now. OWN IT.

So with that thought in my mind, and some nudging from some people reminding me that others like me might be inspired and get that “you are beautiful” comment they too have been waiting for…I said yes.

Flash forward to rehearsals, fittings, hair, make up, shape wear discussions, stretch mark discussions, bra discussions, heels or flats, order of models,  how to walk, how many beats to count before posing…and on and on and on.

And at every point I wanted to bail. To run out of this thing that put butterflies in my stomach. Would the community think this was lame? Would anyone believe I was beautiful and model worthy? Would they see all the hard work and diversity of women of every stripe and say “that is awesome” or would they say “where are the supermodels?”

And I stood on the steps off the stage, music blaring, and knew there was no turning back. I was told that if I could do it, maybe next year another woman afraid to show her cancer scars might say yes too. Maybe, just maybe, a blogger who feels like the ugly duckling due to a birth defect will volunteer and say “ME NEXT!”

And I closed my eyes, and I counted my beats, and I believed, for the first time in so long, that I truly was beautiful. I believed what I had always written and told my daughter- it’s not what is outside, it’s what is inside that makes you pretty. My inside has sass, and silly, and attitude, and  power. POWER enough to be winning against a disease that kills. Power enough to be humbled by the “fluff” bloggers who I realize not only work hard, but work super hard to show every woman is beautiful, fighting the stereotype that you need to be a tall, skinny, white, blonde female to be the ideal.

They taught me everyone is the ideal woman, and I most certainly was welcome in their ranks. Not everything needs news and politics, but everything DOES need beauty.

So for every woman who isn’t society’s usual cover girl… I stepped on stage, walked to my mark, and soaked in what I KNEW was already there: family and friends who love me for me. And who all taught me EVERYONE in this community and beyond has an equally important voice. Because that voice gave me the confidence to return to who I really am.

photo by @craftyb

And I am beautiful.

 

 

 

 

*With special thanks to 6pm, Elizabeth Arden, Paul Mitchell, Monif C , and Marc Jacobs. And the wonderful team at Zappos.com. Fashion show guru Kathryn Finney and her amazing team. Photo caught by Kelly Cheatle. See more at Blogher.com.

Forward

The kids cried last night as my husband and I put them to bed. Cried because they were tired. Cried because they are kids. But cried mostly because we were leaving, while they slept, for New York.

This will be our longest trip ever away from the children. And our first since everything in our home has changed. Life operates differently with Mom not working, and undergoing treatment for Lupus. Cuddles are a nighttime ritual. Therapy for worries, a new childhood experience.

I explained to the children how important this trip was for me, and for our family. It means that I am getting better. And this trip is a big step in testing to see what my body can handle…and what it can not.

While I am very excited to speaking at BlogHer ’12, to be staying longer in New York than planned so that I may be a guest on the new Katie Couric show, and to travel on a plane-cross country no less- I’m also very much feeling what my children were feeling last night…

Fear.

I’m pushing many of the what if’s out of my head because I know that my body is ready. My doctor is confident and he wouldn’t have let me travel if he weren’t. This doesn’t mean I can handle this often yet, or even that I will be anywhere near full strength soon. But this is a step. A big step. And one I had hoped would make the children feel more secure, make me feel more confident.

Instead this morning my hands shook as I tried to take my pills with a glass of water, and I nearly called off the entire thing before we walked out the door. And nearly called it off again as we drove to the airport.

Yet here I sit, on the plane, blogging from the sky and trying to muster the old Erin that usually emerges right about now.

I’m just so determined to beat this, so determined to NOT go backwards, so determined to never cause the kids or my husband another thought of fear or pain that even taking this trip has me rethinking everything I do. Everything I am. Everything I WANT to be.

I’ve been doing my best to take those baby steps at home, from home, that feel comfortable and natural and don’t disrupt the worries of the household. I’m so proud to have been asked to blog for the President’s re-election.

Screen Shot 2012-07-28 at 12.49.26 PM

And I’m proud to be doing more around the house, slowly, steadily, and with great care.

I just wish I could shake this weight in my chest over this trip and all it’s implications. So many fantastic opportunities, so many chances to relapse.

So if you see me in New York, and I’m not entirely myself, please don’t take any offense. I currently have a one track mind that includes keeping my voice and hands steady, my head held high, and a fierce determination to turn around and go home if my body says it’s time-regardless of what opportunities I miss.

The crying children I left behind, and the man who accompanies me and has stood by my side through this hell deserve that much. In fact, they deserve much more.

I’m in control, even through my tears, and I will NOT go backwards.

FORWARD.