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	<title>A Bittersweet Existence &#187; reflection</title>
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	<description>Life as an accidental housewife</description>
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		<title>Total Mommy #Fail</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/total-mommy-fail/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/total-mommy-fail/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 27 Aug 2010 00:28:09 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Posts]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[#fail]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[baby talk]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[rant]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[reflection]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1921</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" />My kid damn near gave me an aneurysm heart attack&#8230; she damn near killed me today!</p> <p>I go into the garage to put a disturbingly smelly diaper straight into the outside garbage and what happens?</p> <p>I hear the house door shut.</p> <p>Whatever. She has shut it before.</p> <p>I turn around to go <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/total-mommy-fail/">Total Mommy #Fail</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" />My kid damn near gave me an <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">aneurysm</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">heart attack</span>&#8230; she damn near killed me today!</p>
<p>I go into the garage to put a disturbingly smelly diaper straight into the outside garbage and what happens?</p>
<p>I hear the house door shut.</p>
<p>Whatever. She has shut it before.</p>
<p>I turn around to go back in the house, turn the knob&#8230; and it&#8217;s locked!</p>
<p>Deep breaths.</p>
<p>&#8220;Can you open the door for Momma?&#8221; {Door knob jiggles}<br />
&#8220;Pea&#8230; open the door please&#8221; {More jiggling, then nothing}</p>
<p>In my mind: FUCK!</p>
<p>I go around the side of the door to the back patio- fuckin&#8217; locked.</p>
<p>SONOFABITCH!</p>
<p>I peep in through the blinds, which are closed (cause I&#8217;m a fuckin VAMPIRE and like to keep the blinds shut and the 100+ degree sunshine out) so I can&#8217;t <em>really </em>see her, but I kind of can.</p>
<p>We keep a little dowel in the patio door to keep it closed b/c it doesn&#8217;t really shut well otherwise. Baby C ALWAYS, ALWAYS plays with said dowel. Walking around the house with it like she&#8217;s a damn baton twirler. Today?</p>
<p>&#8220;Can you get the stick for Momma? Take the stick out of the door for Momma please&#8230;&#8221;<br />
{dead stares, laughter and the pitter-patter of little feet running away}</p>
<p>She comes back to the patio door, looks out the blinds and is smiling cause she found Mommas hard candy- and Curious George is on TV? Jackpoooot!</p>
<p>&#8220;Come here Pea, can you take the stick out the door for Momma please?&#8221;</p>
<p><em>nothin</em></p>
<p>I call my husband at work and tell him that I may just have to call the Police and he is convinced that if I do, they may alert child protective services.</p>
<p><em>Really? Fuck. </em></p>
<p><em>Worst. Mom. Moment. Ever. </em></p>
<p>Call my mom, she&#8217;s trying to talk me down, but my kid is starting to lay on the rug- looks like she&#8217;s ready for a nap.</p>
<p>FUCK! NO NO NO- don&#8217;t sleep!</p>
<p>Long story short?</p>
<p>9-1-1</p>
<p>&#8220;Uhhh yeah Ma&#8217;am, if Fire &amp; Rescue comes out there, they are just gonna kick your door in, so you may just wanna call your landlord.&#8221;</p>
<p><em>You  have GOT to be fucking kidding me. </em></p>
<p>Call my landlord. And I just lose it.</p>
<p><em>I&#8217;m crying, it&#8217;s fuckin 10070million degrees outside and my kid is stuck in the house. </em></p>
<p><em>Awesome. This is a fine moment. </em></p>
<p>Landlord calls her husband b/c he&#8217;s closer and he&#8217;s on his way, it&#8217;ll be like 10 minutes.</p>
<p><em>Sweet</em>.</p>
<p>What next? Fuckin dog starts barking and I hear &#8220;hello&#8221;</p>
<p>I walk around the house- it&#8217;s the Sheriff.</p>
<p><em>Fuck, I&#8217;m in trouble. </em></p>
<p><em>I wonder if they&#8217;ll handcuff me for like child endangerment. </em></p>
<p>He talks it out with me. Tells me to keep an eye on the kiddo through the half-closed blinds and he&#8217;ll walk around the house, see if he can get in.</p>
<p>Next? Sheriff #2 shows up, then? Sheriff #3</p>
<p><em>Mother of God I hope my neighbors aren&#8217;t all outside now.<br />
Worst. Mommy. Moment. EVER. </em></p>
<p>By some act of GOD my Sheriff finds a way to get a window open, climbs in it and saves the mothafuckin day.</p>
<p>Thank you, Lord.</p>
<p>I just burst into tears when I saw my kid&#8230; thinking when in the HELL did you learn to lock a lock? Just today? Awesome. The DAY my kid learns what makes a lock- lock- she locks me out of the house.</p>
<p>Ugh.</p>
<p>Disaster.</p>
<p>WORST MOMMY MOMENT EVER.</p>
<p>Tell me your worst mommy moments so I don&#8217;t feel so bad and wanna go wallow in self-pity by the name of Petron.
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		<title>The &#8216;N&#8217; Word</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/the-n-word/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/the-n-word/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 11 Aug 2010 03:12:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Posts]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[black folks]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1893</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" />I&#8217;m an 80&#8242;s baby.</p> <p>Not the 80&#8242;s baby that grew up listening to Def Leppard and White Snake.</p> <p>The 80&#8242;s baby that grew up listening to Sanchez, Beres Hammond, Buju Banton and Garnett Silk.</p> <p>Not names you recognize? If you are West Indian or more specifically, Jamaican- these names may jump out <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/the-n-word/">The &#8216;N&#8217; Word</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" />I&#8217;m an 80&#8242;s baby.</p>
<p>Not the 80&#8242;s baby that grew up listening to Def Leppard and White Snake.</p>
<p>The 80&#8242;s baby that grew up listening to Sanchez, Beres Hammond, Buju Banton and Garnett Silk.</p>
<p>Not names you recognize? If you are West Indian or more specifically, Jamaican- these names may jump out at you right away. Classic, &#8220;old school&#8221; Reggae artists.</p>
<p>So that&#8217;s the Jamaican side of me. The other side of me is a Brooklyn, born and bred Bed-Stuy girl.</p>
<p>So quick&#8230;</p>
<p>Name some of your favorite hip-hop artists:</p>
<ul>
<li>Biggie</li>
<li>Jay-Z</li>
<li>Kanye (I&#8217;m sad to admit this)</li>
<li>T.I. (You sexy beast)</li>
<li>Tupac</li>
</ul>
<p>How can you not turn up the music when you hear lyrics like this:</p>
<p>&#8220;<em>Now honeys play me close like butta play toast<br />
From the Mississippi down to the East Coast<br />
Condos in Queens, indo for weeks<br />
Sold out seats to hear Biggie Smalls speak<br />
Livin&#8217; life without fear<br />
Puttin&#8217; 5 karats in my baby girl&#8217;s ears<br />
Lunches, brunches, interviews by the pool<br />
Considered a fool &#8217;cause I dropped out of high school<br />
Stereotypes of a black male misunderstood<br />
And it&#8217;s still all good</em>&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8211;<strong>or how &#8217;bout this</strong>&#8211;</p>
<p>&#8220;<em>Man I promise, I&#8217;m so self conscious<br />
That&#8217;s why you always see me with at least one of my watches<br />
Rollies and Pasha&#8217;s done drove me crazy<br />
I can&#8217;t even pronounce nothing, pass that versace!<br />
Then I spent 400 bucks on this<br />
Just to be like nigga you ain&#8217;t up on this!<br />
And I can&#8217;t even go to the grocery store<br />
Without some ones thats clean and a shirt with a team<br />
It seems we living the american dream<br />
But the people highest up got the lowest self esteem<br />
The prettiest people do the ugliest things<br />
For the road to riches and diamond rings<br />
We shine because they hate us, floss cause they degrade us<br />
We trying to buy back our 40 acres<br />
And for that paper, look how low we a&#8217;stoop<br />
Even if you in a Benz, you still a nigga in a coop/coupe</em>&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8211;<strong>one more</strong>&#8211;</p>
<p>&#8220;<em>Mic check 1-2 1-2, you wanna beef wit the king what is you gon do<br />
Will you show up on the scene wit 2 guns drew<br />
Or you and ya friend and play a little two on two<br />
If you knew half of what I knew then you&#8217;ll be hittin the deck<br />
Got a tool and a vest I can get some respect<br />
I&#8217;ma make it hard for a sucka nigga to flex<br />
Sho &#8216;em this ain&#8217;t the squad for a nigga to test<br />
Pimp my nutz too large and we way too fresh<br />
Work well wit Nines AK&#8217;s and Techs<br />
And quick to check a lame like a game of chess<br />
You want beef you can bring ya best and we&#8217;ll be standin in ya front yard yellin&#8230;</em>&#8221;</p>
<p>(<em>Can you name those songs?</em><sup>*</sup>)</p>
<p>Okay, so the third set of lyrics are a bit much, but it&#8217;s really the beat that pulls you in as opposed to the lyrics. The lyrics are just an added bonus.</p>
<p>The other day, I turned some Biggie on my iPod before I jumped in the shower. I can&#8217;t remember what song it was, but every other word was <em>nigga </em>this and <em>nigga </em>that and I thought- <strong>wow</strong> this is some potty mouth shit. Do I want my baby girl using the &#8216;N&#8217; word?</p>
<p>It seems like an easy question, right? Wrong.</p>
<p>In college, we had this debate about whether or not we, 80&#8242;s babies, now twenty-somethings, should even be using the &#8216;N&#8217; word.</p>
<p>I remember once when I was in high school in the kitchen with my mother and my older brother and his friends and the  &#8216;N&#8217; word was said and my mom&#8217;s all like &#8220;<em>you don&#8217;t use that word in this house, I&#8217;m not one of your friends on the street.&#8221; </em>(That was my mother&#8217;s favorite thing to say if we said something in the house that she didn&#8217;t approve of)</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t use the word now unless I&#8217;m singing along with a song that I <strong>love</strong>, but to be honest with you I don&#8217;t have any black friends my age here, so I don&#8217;t know if I would use the word at all. One of my closest friends, Tyronne- New Orleans native extraordinaire, almost <em><strong>always </strong></em>gets called a nigga when I speak to him&#8230; almost. Somewhere between me lecturing him about his inability to find a good woman and settle down and stop &#8220;fucking everything that walks&#8221; (my words exactly) I might drop an &#8216;n&#8217; bomb on him.</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t know why. I just do. And he usually ends up saying &#8220;<em>Aww why I gotta be all that?&#8221; </em>and we laugh and carry-on with our conversation.</p>
<p>So, back to my original question- will it be okay for Baby C to use the word? I know a lot of black people like to say we&#8217;ve &#8220;taken back the word&#8221; and it doesn&#8217;t have the same implications that it had before, but really? I guess it depends on the context in which it is used. Cause if a white person calls me a nigga- there may be some very distinct four letter words exchanged. So black people, have we really taken back the word?</p>
<p>Baby C is 1/2 black- so is she 1/2 allowed to use the word? I wanna say I don&#8217;t want her to use the word at all.</p>
<p>But to me, it&#8217;s a big question. One that can&#8217;t be answered in one blog post and I&#8217;d love some parental advice.</p>
<p>What do you think?</p>
<p>Do your kids use the &#8216;N&#8217; word?</p>
<p>What do you think about the &#8216;N&#8217; word?</p>
<p><sup>*</sup><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em> The songs that those lyrics are from are: Juicy, Notorius B.I.G.- All Falls Down, Kanye West- Bring &#8216;Em Out, T.I.</em></span>
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		<title>Can We Make &#8216;Em Wait?</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/can-we-make-em-wait/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/can-we-make-em-wait/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 02 Aug 2010 18:02:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" />My husband comes home for lunch sometimes and to continue our tradition of killing our brain cells with mindless and trashy television we usually watch The Maury Show (come on, what else is on in the middle of the day?). Maury has become a breeding ground for young women who don&#8217;t know <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/08/can-we-make-em-wait/">Can We Make &#8216;Em Wait?</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" />My husband comes home for lunch sometimes and to continue our tradition of killing our brain cells with mindless and trashy television we usually watch The Maury Show (come on, what else is on in the middle of the day?). Maury has become a breeding ground for young women who don&#8217;t know who their baby&#8217;s daddy&#8217;s are. They can come on The Maury Show- put their business out there for America to see- and get a free paternity test while they are at it.</p>
<p>No disrespect to these women. I can&#8217;t imagine what it would be like to <em>not know </em>who the father of your child is and what kind of courage it takes to come on national television and let everyone know that you don&#8217;t know who your child&#8217;s father is. In my mind it&#8217;s all about their child- they want the father to step up, be a man and be a part of their child&#8217;s life- that&#8217;s why they do it (right?).</p>
<p>I worry about our youth, though, with books being written like <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Oral-Sex-New-Goodnight-Kiss/dp/0973971118/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1280769080&amp;sr=1-1" target="_blank">Oral Sex is the New Goodnight Kiss</a> </em>and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/So-Sexy-Soon-Sexualized-Childhood/dp/0345505077/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1280769080&amp;sr=1-5" target="_blank"><em>So Sexy So Soon</em></a>, are the younger generations being over-sexualized? Or has it always been like this, but it&#8217;s just becoming more noticeable because of the larger amount of children being involved in so-called &#8220;wreckless behavior.&#8221;</p>
<p><strong>Newsflash</strong>: I lost my virginity when I was a few days away from being 16. And I think I was one of the last of my friends at the time to &#8220;lose it.&#8221; To a boy that was my boyfriend for over a year and like the asshole and dirt on the bottom of my shoe that he turned out to be- he didn&#8217;t want to be my boyfriend anymore after that. Dickhead. But I did it because I wanted to- no pressure from him or anyone else. I  &#8220;loved&#8221; him and thought we&#8217;d grow up and get married and make babies.  LOL</p>
<p>Anyway, I don&#8217;t really remember what it felt like, if it was &#8220;good&#8221; I mean- it was what it was. Is that how your first time is supposed to be? I don&#8217;t know.</p>
<p>I saw a re-run of the Tyra show a few weeks ago with teens and tweens talking about sex. One 15 year old girl said she&#8217;d had sex with <strong>eight boys </strong>already-<strong> that&#8217;s more sexual partners that I&#8217;ve had in my whole life!</strong> Tyra asked her if she thought eight was a lot and she said no. What?! So casual.</p>
<p>What I also found interesting was that there was a young boy on there with his mom. He said he is a virgin because his mom has big dreams for him- but he lies and tells his friends that he&#8217;s having sex to fit in because they are all saying they are having sex. He said he had lots of questions like: what does it feel like when you &#8220;put it in&#8221; and what it felt like to have an orgasm and how do you put on a condom, etc&#8230;</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t think I ever thought sex was casual, regardless of how my friends and I spoke about it.</p>
<p>Why?</p>
<p>My family was always open about sex, a few of the &#8220;messages&#8221; I heard were:</p>
<ul>
<li>Always use a condom.</li>
<li>If you EVER come in this house pregnant I&#8217;m gonna kick your ass.</li>
<li>Don&#8217;t ever let a man try to put his penis in your mouth (Yup, my parents were pretty open with us).</li>
<li>It is <strong>your </strong>body and don&#8217;t make anyone tell you what to do with it.</li>
<li>Keep your legs closed.</li>
<li>and I could go on&#8230;</li>
</ul>
<p>In 2010 when sex sells and Danica Patrick is almost always in tight pants or a bikini or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7X0UuA1pZ4&amp;feature=channel" target="_blank">talking about her beaver</a> to advertise for GoDaddy.com (I don&#8217;t get it) or Audrina Patridge is practically molesting a burger in a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eB2MDYzx5OY" target="_blank">Carl&#8217;s Jr. commercial</a>- how do we tell our kids (not just our daughters) that it&#8217;s okay to keep your clothes on and own your body?</p>
<p>I&#8217;ve always lived by the personal belief that this is my body, I am in control and I won&#8217;t be coerced by a sexy smile or the illusion of what might be in those jeans. It was and still is not easy to get me in bed- I was the Queen of hard-to-get, look&#8230; but don&#8217;t touch.</p>
<p>What do we do, though?</p>
<p>Should we be 100% honest and upfront with our kids? Answer any and all questions they have about sex and warn them on the dangers of what can happen?</p>
<p>And what age is the appropriate age to start talking to your kids about sex? Especially when girls are having babies younger and younger- 12 year olds shouldn&#8217;t be having babies y&#8217;all&#8230; where did her childhood go?</p>
<p>I would love for Cadence to wait until she&#8217;s married, but I don&#8217;t want to lie to her about my past- like I said my parents were always honest with me.</p>
<p>There are plenty of celebrities who do outwardly preach their abstinence- The Jonas Brothers are famous for it, My boy Tim Tebow is a virgin and according to Google, so is Miley Cyrus.</p>
<p>Do you think seeing people they look up to waiting is what will encourage them to wait?</p>
<p>Is it their faith? We are Christian and our plan is to raise Cadence in the church. Will her faith be enough to make her want to wait?</p>
<p>And again, this isn&#8217;t about our daughters- of course there&#8217;s a double-standard at times with girls and boys and sex- but if we ever have a son, I&#8217;d want him to wait too. I want him to respect females, their bodies and respect himself and his body. It&#8217;s not about how many girls he&#8217;s slept with or getting girls to give him head (I have a lot of male friends). <strong>I think</strong> that girls may find him even more sexy and appealing because he is a virgin- there&#8217;s mystery there.</p>
<p>I could go on and on.</p>
<p>What are your thoughts on this?</p>
<p>Do you have tweens/teens? What kind of things are you telling them about sex? their bodies? self-love/self-respect?</p>
<p>What kind of morals and family values are you hoping you are instilling in your kids?</p>
<p>Did you wait? Is it your hope that your kids wait?</p>
<p>What about tv/radio/movies/print? Do you think that there&#8217;s an over-sexualization now? Do you think we have always been sexualized, but people are just now taking notice?</p>
<p>Chime in.
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		<title>Where Does Time Go?</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/07/where-does-time-go/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/07/where-does-time-go/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Jul 2010 17:31:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Daily Pic]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1826</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" /></p> <p>My Dear God she was so adorable and tiny.</p> <p>She&#8217;s still adorable, but not-so tiny.</p> <p>Sometimes I question if I&#8217;m doing a good job with her and then she says or does something disturbingly smart and I&#8217;m reassured that, yes- I&#8217;m doing the best I can.</p> <p>Yeah, I lose my patience <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/07/where-does-time-go/">Where Does Time Go?</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" /><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-1827" title="Newborn Baby C" src="http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/Newborn-Baby-C-769x1024.jpg" alt="" width="356" height="475" /></p>
<p>My Dear God she was so adorable and tiny.</p>
<p>She&#8217;s still adorable, but not-so tiny.</p>
<p>Sometimes I question if I&#8217;m doing a good job with her and then she says or does something disturbingly smart and I&#8217;m reassured that, yes- I&#8217;m doing the best I can.</p>
<p>Yeah, I lose my patience with her and I get super frustrated, but patience has never been my thing. I&#8217;m not perfect, but the point is, I&#8217;m trying. And I love her. And she knows it cause she&#8217;s just Mommas big bundle of hugs and kisses&#8230; oh and tantrums.</p>
<p>My womb hurts.</p>
<p>And sometimes I think, I&#8217;m so impatient with her sometimes, how can I have another.</p>
<p>Because. I was made to be a Mommy.</p>
<p>I look at her sometimes and I just can&#8217;t believe that she grew from me. She was once in my body. She is a part of me.</p>
<p>She&#8217;s smart, she&#8217;s silly, she&#8217;s funny, she throws tantrums, she doesn&#8217;t listen, she knows that cows say &#8220;Mooo&#8221; and that her doggie is a &#8220;good boy.&#8221;</p>
<p>That&#8217;s my girl. She&#8217;s getting so big.</p>
<p>**Sigh**
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		<title>How Often Do You Look Back?</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/07/how-often-do-you-look-back/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/07/how-often-do-you-look-back/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 18 Jul 2010 19:02:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1742</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" />How often do you check on your kids in the backseat of the car when you are driving?</p> <p>I usually look back on Baby Girl every so often, I just use the rearview mirror and I can see her just fine. Sometimes, though, mostly when my husband is driving- I don&#8217;t really <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/07/how-often-do-you-look-back/">How Often Do You Look Back?</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" />How often do you check on your kids in the backseat of the car when you are driving?</p>
<p>I usually look back on Baby Girl every so often, I just use the rearview mirror and I can see her just fine. Sometimes, though, mostly when my husband is driving- I don&#8217;t really look back as much and I&#8217;m not sure why. Probably because we are having a conversation or something.</p>
<p>A few weeks ago, I heard coughing and gagging from the back seat. I look back and what do I see? Baby C choking on headband she took off. It was around her neck and she was basically strangling herself with it trying to take it off! (She hates having anything put in her hair)</p>
<p>I was horrified. And it was completely by the Grace of God that I was able to hear the coughing, look back and take the headband from around her neck. That completely freaked me out for the rest of the day and I vowed to never put a headband on her again.</p>
<p>It. Scared. The SHIT out of me.</p>
<p>Bottom line.</p>
<p>So my question for you is- how often do you look back and check on your children while you&#8217;re driving? Share with me. Because that totally felt like a complete MommyFail on my part.
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		<title>The One Where I Put It All Out There</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/the-one-where-i-put-it-all-out-there/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/the-one-where-i-put-it-all-out-there/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 25 Jun 2010 23:22:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1728</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" />So, I am a pretty open book. Anything that I write here on my blog is something that I would tell Joe Schmo on the street. Anything that is meant to be private, probably won&#8217;t make it onto the screen on my computer. The &#8220;private&#8221; things, though, are far and few in <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/the-one-where-i-put-it-all-out-there/">The One Where I Put It All Out There</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" />So, I am a pretty open book. Anything that I write here on my blog is something that I would tell Joe Schmo on the street. Anything that is meant to be private, <em>probably </em>won&#8217;t make it onto the screen on my computer. The &#8220;private&#8221; things, though, are far and few in between.</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t know how my family is going to feel about this post, but you know how sometimes things need to be said? Yeah&#8230; this is one of those things.</p>
<p>You guys have read about my personal struggles with my <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/02/the-one-where-i-tell-you/" target="_blank">depression</a> and you&#8217;ve helped me raise money for <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/04/thank-you/" target="_blank">Pediatric Cancer research</a>. This journey has allowed me to reevaluate my life and think about what things are most important- what things I choose to teach my daughter in regards to morals, etc.</p>
<p>My family is large. By way of marriage, divorces, extended relations and others, I have <strong>ten </strong>brothers and sisters. I grew up around seven of them rather closely. We have always been there for each other. Through tears, fights- whatever.</p>
<p><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1730" title="Brothers And Sisters-1" src="http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/Brothers-And-Sisters-1.jpg" alt="" width="604" height="453" /></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">For privacy purposes, I&#8217;ve made everyone, but myself anonymous in this photo. </span></em></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">That&#8217;s us&#8230;</p>
<p>Quick story. When I was in middle school, these kids wanted to jump me  because they thought I told on them.</p>
<p>(If you are unfamiliar with the  term &#8220;jump&#8221;- when a large group of people beat up a person or a group of  people smaller in number than them)<br />
So, my older brother (my senior by 6 years) and sister (my senior by 9  years) both showed up at my middle school ready to know who was fuckin&#8217;  with me and ready to get their asses kicked by my siblings.</p>
<p>That is the kind of family we <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">are</span>&#8230; were. There for each other at the  drop of a dime and regardless of whatever differences we may have had-  people knew that if you fucked with one, you fucked with all of us.</p>
<p>Bottom Line.</p>
<p>More recently, more and more &#8220;issues&#8221; are being brought to the surface  and my family is being torn apart by them. People are taking sides,  pointing fingers, placing blame, gossiping, disliking, being vindictive  and in my opinion, straight up mean.</p>
<p>I am not going to tell you what these issues are, because then I would  be doing what some other people are doing- bringing people outside of  the family into our business. I will also be speaking on things that  really do not involve me and I would not be giving you facts, but rather  the snippets of information that I have heard from multiple sources (so  technically, 3rd hand information) and molded together to try and  reinact in my mind what happened.</p>
<p>This is not my place to do. All of the information that I have received  is &#8220;alleged&#8221; as far as I&#8217;m concerned because I was not there, so I don&#8217;t  know that any of this even happened.</p>
<p>When you are angry and feel that you are right, you want to get your  point across and you want to be heard and you want to be right. I think  in the process, we start to make shit up to make us seem like the victim  or to get others to take our side. And the shit that we make up? We  actually start to believe it!</p>
<p>But is that what it&#8217;s about?</p>
<p>A co-worker of my husband told me that you don&#8217;t get to choose your  family, God gives them to you, but you get to choose your friends.</p>
<p>What a blessing when you actually consider your family members as your  friends!!</p>
<p>If my younger brother (8 years younger) asks me for advice,  I give him  my advice two-fold. As his sister and as his friend, he can take my  advice or not- no offense taken on my part.</p>
<p>Why? &#8216;Cause it&#8217;s his life and he asked for my advice. Once I give my  advice, he is free to do with it what he chooses. If he makes a bad  decision, I&#8217;ll be there to help pick him up and do what I can- within  reason- to set him back on the right path. I&#8217;m not gonna spoon feed him  and support everything he does and I will DEFINITELY give him tough love  when I see fit.</p>
<p>Cause we are family.</p>
<p><strong>I think</strong> maybe my family is losing sight of the above statement.</p>
<p><strong>I think</strong> that some people are only thinking of themselves and not taking  other people into consideration before they speak and act.</p>
<p><strong>I think</strong> that some people are not taking notice to the fact that their  words and actions just might burn some bridges down.</p>
<p><strong>I think</strong> these same people are forgetting that once a bridge is burned,  that&#8217;s it. It will need to be rebuilt and building bridges is a job that  takes skill, tenacity and above all- patience. It is not an easy job  and sometimes great people die in the process of building bridges.</p>
<p>My father used to play this song and one line in the song stated: &#8220;<em>The  bridge you burn today, you may need tomorrow&#8230;</em></p>
<p><em>Don&#8217;t you burn your bridges down.</em>&#8221;</p>
<p>Wise words, folks.</p>
<p>I also want to remind how <span style="color: #ff0000;">toxic</span> things like gossip and grudges are. It  decays you <span style="text-decoration: underline;">from the inside out</span> little-by-little.</p>
<p>These things destroy.</p>
<p>They make you <strong>more miserable</strong> than the person that you are gossiping  about/holding a grudge against.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">I&#8217;ve seen how these things destroy friendships, so imagine what they can  do to families&#8230;</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">This post is my way of saying my piece without actually becoming involved. I am very open about sharing my feelings with my family and I constantly preach togetherness and things of that nature.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Frankly, I think it goes in one ear and out the other.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">But, I try anyway. I will continue to call people out if I think they&#8217;re doing wrong. I will not take sides, because we are all family. I will <strong>not</strong> be a-party to the gossiping and accusations.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">And this, my family is the reason I am glad that I don&#8217;t live nearby. I know every family has issues, but it is up to me to decide whether I want this kind of poison in my life. I don&#8217;t want these distractions and nasty behavior infiltrating my or my daughter&#8217;s life.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">We need to love one another. Bottom line.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Family First.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">That is all.</p>
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		<title>Our Story by Jenn</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/our-story-by-jenn/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 21 Jun 2010 17:15:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1697</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" /></p> <p>When I was a kid I was a bit of a hypochondriac (well ok so I still am). Whenever I heard of a new illness or ailment of course I thought I had it!  I remember lying in bed praying asking God to please let me live long enough to fall <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/our-story-by-jenn/">Our Story by Jenn</a></span>]]></description>
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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">When  I was a kid I was a bit of a hypochondriac (well ok so I still am).</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> When</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">ever I heard of a new illness or  ailment</span> <span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">o</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">f course I thought I had it!  I  remember lying in bed praying asking God to please let me live long  enough to fall in love.  I wanted to know what they were talking about  in all those </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">love </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">songs I  would play over and over again on cassette tapes lol.  Time passed and I  dated a few people in high school but I know I was never truly in love,  so I kept praying every night that God would send me someone who  understood me</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> (I am a pretty complicated girl</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';">!)  When I was a senior in College I went to a  party and there was a freshman football player working the keg</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> (I know glamorous right!)</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> I went over to fill my cup  and we started talking.  He was so easy to talk to and he had the cutest  smile I had ever seen!  I spent the whole night standing by the keg  talking to him.  He came over my </span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';">place and we watched a movie and talked until</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> we fell asleep. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">The next day w</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">e stayed in bed all mo</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">rning </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> just talking. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> I remember he skipped all of  his classes</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> that day.  From those first moments</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> things were</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> just</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> different with him.  It had never been so easy to be with  someone.  I remember when he would hug me with his big football player  arms a felt so tiny and safe.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> He had a way of making me feel like I was the  only person in the world in crowd full of people.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> You kn</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">ow how people </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">say they just know, well I just  knew he was the one, and that we would grow old and gray together with a  houseful of kids and grandkids. I got a job</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> teaching</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> near the college while Aaron  finished school.  He proposed to me the summer before his senior year.   We were married the fall after he graduated.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> God had answered my prayers, I  had found true love.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><img class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-1698" title="aaron and jenn 2" src="http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/aaron-and-jenn-2-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Now on</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">to the babies!  I remember  thanking God for letting me find love.  It was the most amazing thing I  had experienced in my young life.  We both wanted kids and lots of  them.  I always said at least three and Aaron was convinced five was a  good number.  The exact number didn’t matter</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">,</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> we thought life would just  happen and that </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">detail </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">would play itself out.  I remember not really trying but not  using anything to</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> stop a baby from coming</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> either</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';">.  I began to worry because 6 m</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">onths had passed and nothing  had happened</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">.   We then began to “try” to have a baby.  Another 6 months went by and  still nothing.  I remember sitting in church praying that God would give  me a baby.  I remember t</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">hinking you let me find my soul mate</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">, now please let us have a baby  together.  Another four months p</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';">assed, i</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';">t had been over a year no</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">w. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">I was late so I got a test.  I  had taken at least a dozen in the past</span><span style="font-family: 'times  new roman';"> year</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> and they were always negative to I thought  nothing of it.  I remember sitting in the bathroom looking at the stick  as it read PREGNA</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">NT!!!  I was full of joyous emotions, </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">laughing and crying all</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> at the same time.  I pulled  myself together and ran down stairs to tell Aaron.  He was like a little  boy filled with excitement</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> and hugged me so tight</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';">. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Our</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> first baby was a beautiful  little boy.  We named him Henry.  We could not have been more proud of  our little man.  It was so hard to get pregnant with Henry that we  figured w</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">ith  breastfeeding we really didn’t need to use protection.  Well we were  wrong!  When Henry was just five months old I was pregnant again.  We  were nervous having them so close in age but were overjoyed that we were  able to have yet an</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">other baby.  Little Sophie </span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';">came fourteen months to the day of Henry’s  birth.  We were a happy little family we had a boy and now a girl!</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> Aaron had a good job that  allowed me to stay home with the kids and I was loving my time with  them.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> Sophie was eight months old  when Aaron los</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">t his job due to downsizing. </span><span style="font-family: 'times  new roman';">It took him </span><span style="font-family: 'times  new roman';">a little over a year to find a comparable  job. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">It was  a very scary time, it was a very trying time, and it was one of the  best times because Aaron got to spend a year at home with h</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">is kids at such a precious  stage</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> in</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> their lives.  He got to ex</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">perience a lot of firsts.  Had  the stress of money and fear of not making it day to day not been  present</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> it  would have been pure joy</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">.  We definitely had some of the happiest moments during that  year, but the stress especially on Aaron played a toll.  They say money  does not buy happiness, and I believe this, but I also think the l</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">ack of it can make you pretty  stressed and unhappy.  I started Bowinhairos during this time to bring  in extra money.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> During those first few months that I opened my <a href="http://bowinhairos.etsy.com/" target="_blank">Etsy shop</a> I  would check my site every </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">half hour to see if I had sold anything.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> Every sale counted</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">, it was diaper money!</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> It tur</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">ned out to be something I was </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">e</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">xtremely passionate about.  I  think it was an endeavor I</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> was meant to take on.  It’s funny how God works that way.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'times  new roman';">Aaron now has a good job at a local college.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> It is a very low stress job  in comparison to the one he lost.  He comes h</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">ome happier than before.  Like I  said, funny how God works that way.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> He has good benefits and things are slowly  getting back to normal. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Henry is now three and Sophie is two.  I am </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">a little </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">sad that if we have another baby  there will be</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> a few years span between them. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Looking at Henry and Sophie  today, </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">I  don’t know what they would do without each other.  They are truly each  others best friend.  They wake up in the morning and call out the other  ones name to start their day of toddler adventures.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> I know that Sophie was meant  to be born exactly when she was.  We would have never tried to have a  baby while Aaron was unemployed and Henry would be lost in this world  without her.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> Again, it’s funny how God works that way.</span> <span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Although our life is not playing</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> out exactly how we imagined  it, w</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">e do  not forget for a moment that we are blessed.  We are blessed to have  found each other in the world.  Aaron is, and will always be my best  everything.  We</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> are blessed to </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">have these two amazing</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> healthy</span><span style="font-family: 'times new  roman';"> little people that we created.  I look at them  every day in complete amazement.  Our family’s journey has just begun.   Now the only question is who is yet to join us</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">.  We</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> now</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> are ready to start trying for  number three.  If it happens we know that it was meant to be.  If not we  also know that everything happens for a reason.  Sometimes it’s okay if  things don’t go</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> exactly</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> as planned</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">.  Sometimes the long road leads to the best destination.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><img class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-1699" title="DSCF4277" src="http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/DSCF4277-227x300.jpg" alt="" width="227" height="300" /></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>About Jenn: </strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jenn is one of five children who loves the idea of a large family. She is a former elementary school teacher who now stays at home with her two children ages two and three.  She loves creating different  and unique hair accessories for her <a href="http://bowinhairos.etsy.com/" target="_blank">Etsy shop</a>.  She and her husband  love spending time outdoors with their kids.  They love campfires, grilling  and just enjoying the fresh air.  She believes in living in the now  and enjoying today because life has a funny way of passing us by while  we are busy making plans for the future! You can follow Jenn on Twitter by clicking <a href="http://twitter.com/Bowinhairos" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
</span></p>
<div>
<div><strong>About Tales From The Crib: </strong><strong> </strong><strong> </strong></p>
</div>
<div>Thought up by Dawana, author of A Bittersweet Existence, as a way      to  share stories from a variety of Moms in one place regarding the      trials  and tribulations. A Stay-At-Home Mom herself who often thinks      she is  losing her mind, Dawana has found a great deal of comfort  in  the    stories  from other Moms and wanted to share them all in one   place.  If   you’d  like to submit a story, please feel free to email   Dawana by    clicking <a href="mailto:abittersweet.blog@gmail.com?subject=Tales%20From%20The%20Crib">here.</a></div>
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		<title>Open Letter To My Dad on Father&#8217;s Day</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/open-letter-to-my-dad-on-fathers-day/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/open-letter-to-my-dad-on-fathers-day/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 20 Jun 2010 03:00:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1693</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" /> <p style="text-align: center;">&#8220;My father didn&#8217;t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.&#8221;</p> <p style="text-align: center;">Clarence Budington Kelland</p> <p>Dear Daddy,</p> <p>Sorry I didn&#8217;t buy you a card this year. As we re-evaluate our spending habits, I have opted to reduce the amount of cards I <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/open-letter-to-my-dad-on-fathers-day/">Open Letter To My Dad on Father&#8217;s Day</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" />
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ff;"><em>&#8220;My father didn&#8217;t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.&#8221;</em></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ff;"><em>Clarence Budington Kelland</em></span></p>
<p>Dear Daddy,</p>
<p>Sorry I didn&#8217;t buy you a card this year. As we re-evaluate our spending habits, I have opted to reduce the amount of cards I buy. I find that people like handwritten notes better and I can easily express how I feel. And anyway, what do people do with cards after the holiday/special day has passed? I always feel bad throwing away old cards, but I have found that I have become sort of a card-hoarder. So last year, I went through all of my cards- there was an <em>entire box</em>- and kept the ones that meant the most. The ones that I could due to part with, I sent to an organization that was using recycled cards for something. So, consider this your father&#8217;s day card. <img src='http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif' alt=':-)' class='wp-smiley' /> </p>
<p>Our relationship has always been&#8230; interesting- wouldn&#8217;t you say?</p>
<p>There are definitely moments from my childhood that weren&#8217;t so fantastic and that I probably resented you for at the time. There&#8217;s no need to rehash old stuff, though. Regardless of what I thought or felt at the moment, I am sure that those experiences only helped to mold me into the woman that I am today.</p>
<p>I wanted to take this time to thank you. Our family has never been good about expressing our feelings in a positive manner. We are more yellers, shouters, point-the-finger(ers) lol. Which is the first thing I wanted to thank you for.</p>
<p>You taught me how to feel. I was always the &#8220;sensitive one&#8221; in the family, always crying, &#8220;just like my father&#8221;&#8230; and while I admit, I never understood your sensitive side, in retrospect, it is important to be in touch with one&#8217;s feelings. Over time, I have learned how to have more control over my emotions- when to allow myself to be vulnerable and when to stay guarded. I guess you can say that I have become a mixture of you and Mommy. And I am okay with that. One needs to be tough, but to a certain extent. I think being in touch with my feelings and emotions allows me to <em>express </em>in an honest manner how I am feeling- something that many people cannot do. The toughness in me allows me to be vulnerable enough to put that out there and not really care about what the person has to say in return. As long as I am honest with myself and others, that&#8217;s all that matters.</p>
<p>You taught me the importance of managing my money. Some may laugh at this, thinking that you have lived&#8230; beyond your means at certain points in your life. While I understand your rationale for wanting some of the things that you want, behind that, in my opinion is someone who is very aware of how much money he does and does not have. You taught me how to balance a checkbook and that would be an important skill as I left the nest and went out on my own. I will admit, that I don&#8217;t balance a checkbook <em>anymore</em>&#8230; one needs money in their checking account to do that. <img src='http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_razz.gif' alt=':-P' class='wp-smiley' />  When I start working again, I can take that up again. Your money management tutorials has allowed me to be responsible for our household income right now- I pay the bills and I know what is and is not feasible for us financially.</p>
<p>You know, you always wanted to hold my hand when we crossed the street or something like that when I was younger and I hated that. I&#8217;ve never really liked to be touched- hand holding and hugging&#8230; not so much my thing. But having those moments with you- as much as they made me want to cringe at the time- they have taught me what is important regarding my daughter. I need to give her hugs, hold her hand and tell her that I love her every chance I get.</p>
<p>We were (and still aren&#8217;t) the &#8216;<em>I Love You&#8217; </em>family. You were the only one who said it and I couldn&#8217;t understand why. But now, as a Mom I get it. I can look back and remember my father telling me that he loved me. I want Cadence to be able to look back and remember the same. It is a feeling that I cannot describe to you for me to be able to tell my daughter that I love her. If anyone in our family besides you told me that they loved me, I would be sure to cringe and feel uncomfortable. I don&#8217;t want it to be like that in my (new) family. I want us to be open and honest about those feelings we have for one another. There are <strong>so </strong>many people out there who don&#8217;t have parents or don&#8217;t have someone to tell them that they love them. So.. I get it. <em>Thank you for that, Daddy. </em></p>
<p>Something that stands out in my mind is when you would go to BJ&#8217;s after work and buy a super-sized box of Always pads- just that. I don&#8217;t know how many men would walk into a wholesale club and buy a ginormous box of maxi pads, but you did that for me. That showed me right away what kind of man I needed. One who wasn&#8217;t afraid to do those little things. Yesterday, we had lunch on base and Cadence was being a handful, so while I tried to calm her down my awesome husband stood there in line with lots of male soldiers in uniform around us and held my <strong>very large </strong>white Coach bag with purple writing all over it. That&#8217;s what real men do- you taught me that.</p>
<p>Of course, there were things you inadvertently taught me like: how <em>not </em>to speak to people. You taught me that I knew I was going to marry a man that knew how to cook <strong>and </strong>iron his own stuff. You taught me that I was <strong>not </strong>going to be anyone&#8217;s maid. I am an independent woman and needed someone who would respect me as such. I appreciate you for these things.</p>
<p>You always told me that I needed to marry someone who was going to treat me like a Queen. That let me know what to look for in a spouse.</p>
<p>You have made many mistakes in your life. I don&#8217;t judge you for these, because though the road may have been long, I believe that you have learned from them. And those lessons are ones that you have tried to instill in both me and Junior to learn from. I am proud of you for having turned your life around and not looking back.</p>
<p>And though you pushed me in ways that I definitely did <em>not </em>appreciate at the time, you taught me the importance of education and striving to do/be the best that I could. You are one of the smartest people that I know and I take pride in knowing that I can call you for a word definition or to edit a paper for me.</p>
<p>Thank you for always supporting me, regardless of whether you agreed with the choices I made or not. Thank you for giving me that good balance of parent-&#8221;friend.&#8221; I always knew that I could come to you to talk, but I also knew that there would be consequences for any poor decisions that I chose to make.</p>
<p>We aren&#8217;t best friends, we have our fights- some last longer than others, but at the end of the day I know that you will always be there for me- regardless of how mad we may be with one another at the moment.</p>
<p>Most importantly, I am happy to <strong>have </strong>a dad. I&#8217;ve said this before, but one thing that I find repulsive is &#8220;men&#8221; who plant the seed (if you will) and walk away. You are <strong>not </strong>a man and there is nothing more irresponsible and disgusting to me than someone who doesn&#8217;t want to own up to their child and give them the opportunity to have both parents in their lives. So thank you for being there.</p>
<p>As it is always said, <em>&#8220;Any man can be a father, but it takes a special person to be a dad.&#8221; (Proverb)</em>.</p>
<p>So, Happy Dad&#8217;s Day.</p>
<p style="text-align: right;">Love,<br />
DEW</p>
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		<title>Losing by Katie Sluiter</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/losing-by-katie-sluiter/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/losing-by-katie-sluiter/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 08 Jun 2010 00:29:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://abittersweetexistence.com/?p=1640</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" /></p> <p>I was twenty-eight years old, teaching high school, and still in grad school when I found out I was pregnant. </p> <p> </p> <p>It was a Monday night.  I remember because my husband was gone playing cards.  I was home working on homework.  I was finding it hard to focus because <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/losing-by-katie-sluiter/">Losing by Katie Sluiter</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" /><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1593" title="Tales From The Crib" src="http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/Tales-From-The-Crib.png" alt="" width="248" height="372" /></p>
<div>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">I was twenty-eight years old</span><span style="font-size: small;">, teaching high school, </span><span style="font-size: small;">and still in grad school  when I found out I was pregnant. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">It  was a </span><span style="font-size: small;">Monday</span><span style="font-size: small;"> night.  I remember  because my husband was gone </span><span style="font-size: small;">playing cards</span><span style="font-size: small;">.  I was home working on  homework.  I was finding it hard to focus because my period was late, so  I figured if I just took the “whiz quiz” and saw the negative sign, I  would be able to gather my thoughts together and get back to work.  I  was on the pill, so I didn’t really think I could be pregnant, but I  figured I would take the test “just in case.”</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">It  came back positive.  Um, what?  Excuse me?  I freaked right out.  RIGHT  OUT.  I started pacing.  I called my hubs and told him to come home  immediately and to please pick up some PG tests since the results of the  one I just took were </span><span style="font-size: small;">NOT</span> <span style="font-size: small;">o</span><span style="font-size: small;">k with me.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">After  four pregnancy tests </span><span style="font-size: small;">(3 at home and 1 at the doctor) </span><span style="font-size: small;">and lots of crying, we came  to terms with the fact that we were going to be parents a bit earlier  than we were planning.  We would make it work.  I started day dreaming  about the little punk girl or rock star boy that was growing in my  belly.  I even turned up the music in the car on my way to work so the  little one could start his or her life out with some good tunes.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">Then,  one Saturday afternoon while helping my husband in the yard, I started  to bleed.  I was only about </span><span style="font-size: small;">5 or so</span><span style="font-size: small;"> weeks along, so I got nervous.  I didn’t have  any cramps, so I thought maybe everything was still Ok.  I made an  appointment on Monday to see my OB.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">As  it turns out, I was miscarrying.  But that wasn’t just all.  The baby I </span><em><span style="font-size: small;">thought</span></em><span style="font-size: small;"> I was growing?  Wasn’t  there.  Yup, you read right…</span><em><span style="font-size: small;">wasn’t there</span></em><span style="font-size: small;">. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> When my OB did the  ultrasound, I had an empty placenta. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> I</span><span style="font-size: small;">t</span> <span style="font-size: small;">was</span><span style="font-size: small;"> something called a  “blighted ovum”.  This basically means that sperm and egg met long  enough for my body to get the memo to create a placenta for the new  resident, but within only a</span><span style="font-size: small;"> couple</span><span style="font-size: small;"> microscopic cells splits,</span><span style="font-size: small;"> that itty bitty new “cell  cluster”</span><span style="font-size: small;"> decided not to rent after all. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">So  why did I test positive still for pregnancy?  My body never got the  memo that the renters were not moving in, so it continued to prepare.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">Why  did it happen at all?  I was told that my body probably realized that  there was some sort of chromosomal problem and put the kybosh on what  was going on.  The doctor tried to be very positive and said there was  absolutely no reason I couldn’t get pregnant again and have a totally  normal pregnancy next time.  Then he asked me how I would like to  proceed with the miscarriage.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">I  opted to go through the miscarriage naturally instead of having them  “vacuum it out” of me.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> And to his credit, this is what my OB recommended. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">This  meant waiting.  I waited about a week and a half before it started.  My  husband asked the nurse what he could do to help me be more comfortable  and she told him, “lots of Ibuprofen and HUGE pads”.  He went out and  bought the most monster pads I had ever seen.  They were the size of a  small mattress.  We chuckled about them until I had to use them.  Then  it really wasn’t so funny anymore.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">The  whole process was pretty quick and after it was over, I was very </span><span style="font-size: small;">emotionally drained</span><span style="font-size: small;">.  I had tremendous guilt  that by not originally wanting to be pregnant, I had somehow </span><em><span style="font-size: small;">caused</span></em><span style="font-size: small;"> this to happen to me.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I know in the logical  part of my brain, that this impossible.  Yet, that is how my heart felt.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> What I did though was to  push all those feelings down and just get on with my life.  I chose to  not dwell on them.  I chose to not think of it as a miscarriage since in  my mind (or at least what I told my mind), </span><em><span style="font-size: small;">there was no baby to  lose.</span></em></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">Almost  exactly one year later, I found myself pregnant again.  This time on  purpose.  We were SO excited. </span><span style="font-size: small;">We went in for an early ultrasound at 6 weeks  to make sure there was a baby in there this time.  And sure enough, a  little itty bitty blip showed up on the screen! </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">As  excited as we were, w</span><span style="font-size: small;">e decided not to tell anyone.  With the first pregnancy, we  had told the world and then had to tell that world the sad news.   I had  issues with the way I was treated.  I hated the pity, the sad looks  when I held my cousin’s new born.  The soft talking when I left a room.   I didn’t want to go through that again. </span><span style="font-size: small;">This time we would wait  with the news until the recommended 12 weeks had passed.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">Around  10 weeks, the doctor had us come in again.  They did a sonogram, but  couldn’t locate a heartbeat, so they brought in the ultrasound machine  again.  There was the blip, but it was nestled so far on the wall of the  placenta, that they couldn’t get a read on the heartbeat.  The doctor  also mentioned that the baby seemed too small for 10 weeks and that  maybe they got the due date wrong. </span><span style="font-size: small;">So I needed to come back in  ten days.  Although he was pretty optimistic, I suddenly knew in my  heart it was over.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">Sure  enough, t</span><span style="font-size: small;">en days later</span><span style="font-size: small;"> the</span><span style="font-size: small;"> baby was the same size with no heartbeat.  I prepared myself  for another miscarriage.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">This  miscarriage was worse on every level.  For one, the baby was THERE this  time.  Physically and emotionally this hurt.  I was losing a BABY this  time (I was the first time too, but I pushed that thought down).  And  when I lost this baby?  The physical pain was almost unbearable.  Now  having been through labor and birth, I know that what I had to go  through was full on labor.  And I had to do it home by myself.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">The  labor started in the evening.  I was cramping and wanting to push by  the wee hours of the morning.  I curled in a ball in the hallway in an  attempt to not wake my husband who would have to work  in the morning  (meanwhile, I put in for a sub for my classes stating that I was  “ill”).  I still had not “passed” the whole thing by morning, so I took a  bunch of ibuprofen and tried to sleep</span><span style="font-size: small;"> after my hubs left for  work</span><span style="font-size: small;">.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> That afternoon I got a  HUGE urge, went to the bathroom, and ridded myself of my child.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">I  texted my husband to tell him it was over.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">At  my doctor’s appointment later that week, I was asked if I wanted to try  again.  I just didn’t know.  This was getting too hard.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">My  husband and I went home and discussed our options.  He didn’t want to  put me through that again.  Ever.  I wanted a baby.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">We  compromised.  One more time.  We would give it one more go.  I could go  through it all again once more.  If it didn’t work, we were done.   DONE.  Maybe we would adopt, but we were done putting my body through  hell.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">Six months later I was  pregnant again.  My doc immediately started testing me and found I had  low progesterone.  I was started on supplements.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;">In  June my son was born via emergency C-section.  He is perfect.  I am  still recovering from the pushed down emotions.  But I am getting  better.  Slowly, but surely.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"><img class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-1645" title="IMG_1156" src="http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/IMG_1156-300x199.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="199" /><br />
</span></p>
</div>
<div><strong>About Katie Sluiter:<br />
</strong></div>
<div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Katie is the author of Sluiter Nation (<a title="http://www.sluiternation.com CTRL + Click to follow link" href="http://www.sluiternation.com/" target="_blank">http://www.sluiternation.com</a>) a  blog about her and her family&#8217;s joys and struggles with life.  She is a  full-time teacher, and her hubs of almost five years is currently  unemployed,  but is enjoying being a stay-at-home dad for now.  Their son, Eddie,  is almost a year and probably the funniest person on the planet.   Seriously.  You can follow Katie and her daily shenanigans on twitter  (<a href="http://twitter.com/ksluiter" target="_blank">@ksluiter</a>) or read Sluiter Nation.</span></div>
<div><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />
</span></div>
<div><strong>About Tales From The Crib:</strong><strong> </strong></div>
<div></div>
<div>Thought up by Dawana, author of A Bittersweet Existence, as a way   to  share stories from a variety of Moms in one place regarding the   trials  and tribulations. A Stay-At-Home Mom herself who often thinks   she is  losing her mind, Dawana has found a great deal of comfort in the   stories  from other Moms and wanted to share them all in one place. If   you’d  like to submit a story, please feel free to email Dawana by   clicking <a href="mailto:abittersweet.blog@gmail.com?subject=Tales%20From%20The%20Crib">here.</a></div>
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		<title>Sacrifices And Security</title>
		<link>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/sacrifices-and-security/</link>
		<comments>http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/sacrifices-and-security/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 06 Jun 2010 03:49:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dawana</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Posts]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[blessings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lessons learned]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parenting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[reflection]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sacrifices]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[selfless acts]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p id="top" />What do you remember about your childhood?</p> <p>I remember my first pair of Nikes.</p> <p>I remember my first Guess outfit that I was able to buy for myself.</p> <p>I remember my older brother making bottle rockets in Heineken bottles and me being terrified &#8217;cause I thought glass would shatter everywhere.</p> <p>I remember <span style="color:#777"> . . . &#8594; Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: <a href="http://abittersweetexistence.com/2010/06/sacrifices-and-security/">Sacrifices And Security</a></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p id="top" />What do you remember about your childhood?</p>
<p>I remember my first pair of Nikes.</p>
<p>I remember my first Guess outfit that I was able to buy <strong>for myself</strong>.</p>
<p>I remember my older brother making bottle rockets in Heineken bottles and me being <strong>terrified</strong> &#8217;cause I thought glass would shatter everywhere.</p>
<p>I remember lots of parties and <strong>lots </strong>of loud music. I assume that this is the reason my hearing is not so great.</p>
<p>I remember a two-door Nissan Sentra, then a Nissan Pathfinder in 1991- the year my younger brother was born.</p>
<p>Oh and I remember the Pathfinder being crashed by <em>you know who </em>and <em>you know how many times</em>. <img src='http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_wink.gif' alt=';-)' class='wp-smiley' />  (love you bro)</p>
<p>I remember rice &amp; peas, oxtails, curry goat, stew chicken, escovitch. Nom, Nom, Nom- you have to appreciate Jamaican food.</p>
<p>What I <strong>don&#8217;t</strong> remember is never having anything to eat.</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t remember worrying about where I was going to live.</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t remember not having that joy of having family around.</p>
<p>I always had a place to lay my head. I always had friends growing up.</p>
<p>And I had because of my parents.</p>
<p>Sure, they fought and as far as I was concerned they hated each other.</p>
<p>As an adult, though, I am so glad that my father was in my life. It made a huge difference.</p>
<p>&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;</p>
<p>My husband is watching this documentary on basketball and these kids are talking about moving 5, 6, 7 times. Not knowing if they would have something to eat. Wearing clothes down to the ground til they were worn. Not having a father, some no mother either and having to be raised by brothers or sisters.</p>
<p>&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;</p>
<p>I had <strong>security</strong>.</p>
<p>Regardless of how my parents felt about each other they made a commitment to us, their children, to be around.</p>
<p>They took up side jobs- working as bouncers at night clubs &#8217;til the wee hours in the morning or working at Macy&#8217;s as a part-time job <strong>in addition</strong> to a full time day job in Insurance.</p>
<p>They did what they needed to do so that we could have and not want for the necessary things in life.</p>
<p>When I look at my daughter, I want to give her everything she needs and the things that she wants, too. My parents taught me the golden rule of parenting (in my opinion). Which is that I need to do whatever is in my power to make sure that my kids never want for anything- even if that means making sacrifices&#8230; maybe sacrificing <em>my dreams</em> (temporarily) or parents who make sure their kids eat before they eat. Buying what <strong><em>your kids need</em></strong> instead of buying <strong><em>something that you want</em></strong>.</p>
<p>You know, our kids didn&#8217;t ask to be on this Earth. We brought them here.</p>
<p>I know that a lot of people out there have it hard. Watching things like this documentary and listening to these guys stories reminds me of what is important and just makes me grateful for how I was raised. It puts things in perspective.</p>
<p>I am just <strong>thankful</strong> to my parents for providing my siblings and I with that constant security. I&#8217;m thankful to my parents for the sacrifices that they made for us&#8230; and for any of the times they ever went without so that we could have.</p>
<p>It takes becoming a grown-up to really appreciate the little things. I am now learning, too, that even when you think <em>they </em>are not looking- they are. (They being our kids) And they are learning from us- our actions, our behavior- how we treat ourselves <strong>and </strong>others.</p>
<p>Now, my parents live on two separate ends of the East Coast- but I know that I always have a place to call home. I can just choose between Florida and New York. <img src='http://abittersweetexistence.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif' alt=':-)' class='wp-smiley' />
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