Uncategorized – Page 2

Posted on December 17, 2014 by Wise Sass · 1 Comment

On Being Mr. Darcy

Mr. Darcy, arguably the most swoon-worthy character in all of literature, stands up as a god among men. There’s a reason my ASD son’s middle name is Darcy. My J-man doesn’t like it though. He says it’s a girl’s name. That he’s embarrassed. That kids will make fun of him for having a girl’s name.

He said, “Mom, when I’m an adult I’m changing my middle name to Theodore. You know, like in the Chipmunks.” LOVE HIM.

Of course, this is my ASD guy. My Autistic little dude. He, like many Autistics, want things to fit into routine little boxes and, to him, it doesn’t make sense to have a “girl’s name” within his full name. His first name is very masculine but the middle name ruins it all. Poor guy. I advised him for now to keep his middle name a secret. He can say his first & last name without using his middle name.

But . . . I’m on a campaign to change his mind. I want him to understand why Mr. Darcy is a worthy namesake. Maybe this is too much for a 10 year old to imagine, but I hope when he’s 24 years old he’ll wear it like a badge of honor.

Mr. Darcy is no less than these things:

Intelligent and witty.
Financially solid.
Straightforward and unabashed in speaking his mind – sometimes imprudently, but he learns his lesson on that count, which means he’s . . .
Teachable. He learns to humble himself and be understanding without compromising his beliefs.
Loyal and caring to his family and friends. Those who have earned his trust.
A good listener.
Becomes self-aware, and has a further awareness of others and human nature.
Good reputation.

When we were trying to come up with our second son’s name we focused less on family names, as with our first, and more on relevant and meaningful names to us. To me, it was always Darcy. Had to be Darcy.

Trust, little man, trust your momma. You’ll grown into that name. You’ll wear it proudly one day. Theodore isn’t bad, but it’s no Darcy.

XOXO,

Stef

Posted on December 2, 2014 by Wise Sass

Stef Memes

Hilarious.

Xoxo,
Stef

Posted on November 27, 2014November 28, 2014 by Wise Sass · 1 Comment

I am a fertility goddess

The other day I ran across an image of a fertility goddess and I thought, hmmm, that looks familiar.

Okay, I’m exaggerating; not familiar, but similar or in essence roughly reminiscent.

I blotted that thought away like a shiny nose.

And then yesterday when I was thinking about my body shape (btw, not an unusual occurrence; I’ve probably thought about my body shape at least once a day since I was twelve so this wasn’t a new or unusual thing) I wondered how many designated body shapes there are for women and was it really fair to pin women down to a certain pre-defined shape?

So I looked up a few things. First, the Wikipedia entry for female body shape provides these strict guidelines:

Hourglass – If (bust − hips) ≤ 1″ AND (hips − bust) < 3.6″ AND ( (bust − waist) ≥ 9″ OR (hips − waist) ≥ 10″ )
Bottom hourglass – If (hips − bust) ≥ 3.6″ AND (hips − bust) < 10″ AND (hips − waist) ≥ 9″ AND (high hip/waist) < 1.193
Top hourglass – If (bust − hips) > 1″ AND (bust − hips) < 10″ AND (bust − waist) ≥ 9″
Spoon – If (hips − bust) > 2″ AND (hips − waist) ≥ 7″ AND (high hip/waist) ≥ 1.193
Triangle – If (hips − bust) ≥ 3.6″ AND (hips − waist) < 9″
Inverted triangle – If (bust − hips) ≥ 3.6″ AND (bust − waist) < 9″
Rectangle – If (hips − bust) < 3.6″ AND (bust − hips) < 3.6″ AND (bust − waist) < 9″ AND (hips − waist) < 10

Um … HUH?

If anybody can figure out that hourglass formula, I’m assuming this gal fits in that category:

Incidentally, this same Wikipedia page indicated that “Stone age venus figurines show the earliest body type preference: dramatic steatopygia.” – which is a ” is a high degree of fat accumulation in and around the buttocks.”

Which just goes to show the variations in culture and desire over time.

Then I started searching various other sources for information and what I found was extremely varied. Generally, all women’s body shapes are compared to fruit or geometric shapes. Again, I say HUH? Why? I don’t look like an apple, a pear or a banana, or a square, rectangle or inverted triangle. None of these things. Not even a circle.

I think I look like a woman. Not a type of a woman, but just a woman.

A softy rounded, plump, fertility goddess -because, dammit, that’s what I am! I had the babies! Conceiving them was astonishingly easy, carrying them was a gift and though delivery wasn’t a walk in the park, that experience didn’t take away my power. It enhanced it.

I am a fertility goddess, my dear, and I can own it. In fact, I may even be proud of it.

Love, light & thankfulness today, my sweets. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day and I choose to be thankful for all that I am.

Xoxo,
Stef

Posted on October 9, 2014October 9, 2014 by Wise Sass

Sassy? What?

I’m in San Francisco, working hard, but my cousin sent me the above pic & I had to share it. 🙂

I’m not as angry as I was last week; perspective & time do tend to help those things. Plus, eff ’em.

Here’s a few from the city by the bay. I just happened to be in my room taking pictures of the stadium when the Giants won, thus the fireworks.

Plus I put some Jamberry nail things on and realized they match my peacock phone case. I do have a thing for blue & green together. I’m silly like that.

Back to the salt mines! Have a great weekend, y’all.

Xoxo,
Stef

Posted on September 9, 2014September 9, 2014 by Wise Sass · 1 Comment

(Ridiculous) #NYC #Selfie #blogpost

Hi! I’m in New York City! (NEW YORK CITY?!?)

This isn’t a real blog post. This is just a bunch of silly pics & selfies to prove I’m in the awesome City of New York. As if my Instagramming & Facebooking haven’t provided enough proof! I swear, it’s all about documentation and “look, look, look where I am!” I think it’s crazy, but I do it too.

Though, in contemplating this, I have to admit that I’m more of a social media whore when I’m alone than when I’m with a crowd. I stood in the middle of Times Square tonight, awed, soaking it in, but there was no one to share it with. I’m on business travel so that’s the way it goes sometimes but, man, I wish sometimes there was someone there just to say, “are you seeing this? This is amazing!” And then we’d take a duet selfie (OMG, that should be a thing (if it isn’t already!) #duetselfie for everyone!! Except me, when I’m business traveling. Apparently. Le sigh. Moving on).

So, long story short, no #duetselfie means I took copious pics & a vid and vomited them on IG & FB. Here’s a few for your viewing pleasure. Or not; don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.

(No, I have not been drinking).

I didn’t see the spooky woman until later when I was looking over my pics. Maybe she’s my guardian angel? That’s a nice thought.

Aloha, from the Big Apple!

Stef

Posted on July 8, 2014July 8, 2014 by Wise Sass

I have something to say and you may not like it

A couple years ago I went to the gynecologist for the first time in 5 years. There were two reasons (TMI alert!):

My periods had become heavier, longer, and I sometimes had debilitating cramps that radiated throughout my mid-section and caused digestion distress as well;
I wanted to get cancer screened.

My doctor recommended putting me on birth control pills (BCP). Hmmm. I hadn’t taken those in 10-11 years, but if it helped I figured I’d try it out.

Tangent: calling them birth control pills is a bit of a misnomer because they actually help with so many other medical issues. Maybe if we called them them something like “hormone therapy,” regardless of the reproductive side effect, then we wouldn’t be in the situation we are in today.

Can I just tell you what a Godsend those pills have been? No cramps. None. Lighter periods. No IBS-type of distress at the same time as having a heavy flow and awful mid-section pain. I can’t tell you how much those pills improved my quality of life one week a month. (That’s huge! 25% of my time?? Incredible!)

The added bonus was improving my skin significantly. I used to get a cystic pimple every month around my cycle. I haven’t had a single one since I started the pill. Lifesaver!!

From a pharmacy perspective, I pick up 5 prescriptions a month for my kiddos. My pharmacist’s assistant knows me, my name, my kids’ names and even has a nickname for me. Prescriptions are a budgeted expense at my house. Imagine my surprise when I picked up my first month of pills and the ‘script was FREE!! Free, free, free. The only ‘script I’ve ever gotten for free. Thank goodness for insurance.

(Of course, it’s not really free – a buttload of cashola comes out of my paycheck every month for my insurance premiums, and I’m fully cognizant of that offset).

But you know what’s weird? I felt guilty. Because I could pay for them. I could cover that co-pay … but I know there are a lot of women out there who can’t afford it – either because they don’t have insurance or their insurance doesn’t cover BCP. I felt guilty.

When Obamacare went through I was so pleased to know that other women will have the ability to get on the pill regardless of finances – whether for medical reasons or birth control. It felt like the right to control & fix our bodies was in our hands again, something to be discussed with our doctors rather than bureaucrats. Every woman should have access to the relief I felt from taking those pills. Every woman should also be able to prevent pregnancy through whichever type of birth control they and their doctor agree is best for their bodies.

Every person, man or woman, should be deeply disturbed by the SCOTUS ruling allowing employers to pick & choose their medical coverage due to their religious leanings. Everyone. If we opt-in for insurance – through private pay or working for an employer who offers health benefits – then we should be able to have the medical coverage we need. Period. Regardless of your opinion, or yours, or yours, or yours.

I need allergy medicine so I can breathe, I need prescription eyeglasses (and sunglasses) so I can see, I need prescription cream so my Herpes Simplex 1 sores go away more quickly (cold sores, if you didn’t know), and I need hormone therapy (BCP) for my menstruation. These are my medical needs. Why would medical insurance only cover 3 out of 4 of my medical needs?

I’m so sorry that we, as a country, cannot pull our heads out of our asses long enough to figure out when we do or do not want big government dictating our lives. It seems that both the left & right use big government to suit their needs – regulating guns, abortions, birth control, marriage, etc – but then other times we get on our lofty high-horse and eschew big government in favor of self-autonomy. At some point we need to agree when and where big government is relevant and where it’s not. Hint: it’s not welcome in my vagina!

Bye bye Hobby Lobby. I have to do my small part to protest your hypocrisy. If you’re willing to let your employees suffer over your claimed beliefs then I’m willing to stop buying your made in China (a country who sanctions, nay, dictates, abortions) crafty, knick-knacky crap.

I am just livid.

-Stef

Posted on June 28, 2014June 28, 2014 by Wise Sass · 4 Comments

I’m bringing sassy back

I am sick & tired of feeling sad, bad & mad! I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m not.

I tried so hard but things just didn’t work out as I thought and hoped they would. Acceptance comes in waves, but I’m tired of waiting for it, dammit. At some point you just have to say, hey, this is my life now and it’s not that bad, comparatively, and I’m going to survive & thrive. Even be abso-fucking-lutely happy. Because it’s my life, and I have the ability to choose my state of mind.

Man, seriously, what have I got to be sad about? We’re healthy, I have a great job that’s moving along on a good trajectory, I have a house, a car, and all those little material things we get to make our lives more comfy. So I think it’s time I stopped bitchin’ & cryin’ and started accepting and living!

I was recently told that I was “the whole package” and when I jokingly responded with, “you mean I’m a catch?” The response I got was, “no, Stef, you’re the catch.” My goodness, do you know how that feels? Do you know how that feels . . . after seeing your estranged husband driving around with his girlfriend? Well, if you don’t, it feels damn good. For my worth to not only be recognized but valued as well. Isn’t that incredible?

And, dammit, I am a catch. First and foremost, I’m a warm, loving, touchy-feely mom. I like to do things with my kids. Explore. Go on adventures. Or just have our Friday night movie nights. Second, I like to cook & take care of my people. I’m a nurturer. Maybe too much so, but it’s just because I care. Third, I kick-ass at my job. I manage a team and I’ve found I like nurturing my team members but in a way that will help them grow. Fourth, and completely unrelated to the third, I like sex! (Please, God, don’t let my dad read this).

Plus, the other minor shit that I think are pluses – I bathe (mostly) daily, I don’t wear patchouli, I keep a somewhat tidy house (no white gloves, please) that I think has a bit of charm to it, I pay most of my bills on time, I know how to laugh & cry mostly at appropriate times & I’m a pretty strong, independent woman. I travel by myself regularly. Dine by myself. I don’t feel the need to hide my aloneness from others because being alone does not equate to being lonely.

Maybe I AM a catch!?!? Damn right, I am! For the right person and at the right point in time.

I believe in intersections of time & growth & space. What may have been right at one time possibly isn’t right down the road – where there’s been an element of growth & space that’s shifted things.

So this is the thing – it’s time to get off the mat. It’s time to get up and be happy and proud and thankful for all that I do have. It’s time to forgive those who have hurt me because, though I thought so at the time, those people aren’t my destiny. They aren’t where I belong right now, at this time. They served their purpose in my life and for that I want to just be grateful.

Stop the badness, madness & sadness. It’s time to embrace love and laughter and life again. It’s time to be me! To bring sassy, smart, sexy, shy/not shy, smiley ME back. And I will!!

All my love,

Stef

Posted on May 28, 2014May 28, 2014 by Wise Sass

Soul Talking

Maya Angelou speaks to my soul. I have to confess, I haven’t read a lot of her stuff. I will be fixing that straightaway, though, because every little thing she wrote or said, that I have a read, speaks to the very heart and soul within me. I read her words and, “Yes! Yes! So much yes!” screams from my head.

Maya Angelou, thank you for putting words to the stories of my (our) hearts. I have felt all of these things and I have felt them fully.

Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at it destination full of hope.

My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return.

Loving someone liberates the lover as well as the beloved. And that kind of love comes with age.

I am grateful to have been loved and to be loved now and to be able to love, because that liberates. Love liberates. It doesn’t just hold—that’s ego. Love liberates. It doesn’t bind. Love says, ‘I love you. I love you if you’re in China. I love you if you’re across town. I love you if you’re in Harlem. I love you. I would like to be near you. I’d like to have your arms around me. I’d like to hear your voice in my ear. But that’s not possible now, so I love you. Go.

As always, with love –

Stef

Posted on March 17, 2014March 17, 2014 by Wise Sass · 4 Comments

On Jiggly Butts

My 10 year old, little J-man, is Autistic. One of the most awesomest by-products of his Autism is his lack of artifice. He doesn’t know how to read facial expressions and only tell people what they want to hear. He just calls ’em like he sees ’em. He’s no Eddie Haskell.

For the last year or so J-man has had an obsession with my butt. Flattering . . . . except he’s 10, and my son.

When I’m laying on my tummy he’ll come up on the bed or couch next to me, start pushing on either side and say, “It’s so squishy!” or “It’s so jiggly!” Then he says he loves it and “hugs” it. It’s so silly. And cute. And, you know, it IS squishy and jiggly so he’s just making an observation.

So a few days ago we were getting ready for school and work in the morning and I was flying around my bedroom in my panties and bra looking for the rest of my clothing. J-man came in so I could help comb his hair. As I was spraying and combing he started poking at my tummy. Poke. I shifted away. He followed. Poke. I shifted, he followed. Poke.

“Stop!” I said.

He’s unfazed, “I didn’t know your tummy was jiggly & squishy too!”

“Hey, buddy, people don’t really like to hear that,” I said, feeling the familiar disdain for my own body.

Jamie seemed perplexed, “but why? That’s what makes you unique, momma.”

And I may have teared up, hugged him close and told him he was so very right. *sigh*

What a kid. We could learn something from him. He hasn’t been sullied by the magazines and tv and everything that tells us beauty is about appearance, and only a thin, unwobbly body is what makes a woman beautiful. To him, I’m his momma, his beautiful momma, who loves him and whose round, squishy body is unique and it’s what makes my hugs and my cuddles so very soft.

I often feel like my body holds me back. That I could be further in my career, I could have felt stronger and more confident, that I could have kept the attention and love of some people in my life who may have been disenchanted with those exaggerated curves. I think those things at my low points.

But, you know what? Screw that. I am so much more than my body.

I’m right where I need to be in my career – and it’s not a bad place to be! I am just as confident in my professional life as I need to be, and that’s only growing over time and as my expertise increases. I’m realizing at a certain point in your career your appearance really doesn’t matter as much. To say that another way, if your appearance still does matter then you haven’t proven yourself yet.

Also, not insignificantly, I’ve been told that my curves are pretty enchanting so, you know, those people who don’t like them can go take a flying leap.

My curves are ME. They are who I am. I have been curvy as long as I can remember. Even when I was super-thin, I was curvy. It’s the way I’m made. As J-man said, it IS one of the things that makes me unique.

I’ve been within the same 10 lbs for the last 3 years. No matter what I do. I can sign up and train for 5Ks, I can cut out carbs, I can eat a box of Milk Duds twice a week, and I will still stay within the same 10 lbs. There comes a time when you just have to say, “this is my body.” This is me. Accept it or not. Love it or not. I choose to accept it.

(Except at the beginning of bathing suit season when a certain amount of trepidation is perfectly normal. I think).

Disclaimer: Health is important. There is body acceptance and then there is just being in denial to health problems. A happy medium is recommended.

You don’t have to love my body, but if you love me then you need to know that this is the package that the fabulous gifts that are my brain, my heart, and my soul are wrapped in. Love me or don’t – but I recommend that you do.

Below is a video of a women, Allison Hatfield, telling her story of summoning up the courage to pose naked in front of a stranger and the life-altering thing that happened when she saw the end result. It’s truly powerful so give it a watch/listen:

Or read the transcript here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/oral-fixation/i-hated-my-body-until-i-let-a-stranger-draw-me_b_4860925.html

This is also a good time to remind you that April 2 is World Autism Awareness Day! Light it up BLUE! More to come on this, but if you want to prepare your home for Autism Awareness month, April, then blue lightbulbs are available at Home Depot.

Remember: Different, Not Less. (And that applies to sooooo many things!)

All my love,

Stef

Posted on November 7, 2013November 12, 2013 by Wise Sass

Emotion & Control. Because, dude.

I find myself in an unusual position tonight. I’m ill-prepared for my trip in a way that I’m usually quite over-prepared for, to the point of anal-retentiveness. It’s odd, for me. But oddly familiar too. I’ve found myself in this unprepared position more often than I would care to think about these days. It’s emotion, man. Nobody can prepare for it.

I’m on a plane. Flying to the East for a few business days and then flying home. Normally I bring at least one charger for my iPhone, but more often I bring two. Just in case. In case I lose one. In case one stops working. I depend heavily on my phone when I travel. I’m also usually very, very careful about making sure the phone is fully charged before a flight. And here, my dear, is where I find myself utterly unprepared.

You see, I had phone calls this morning. Errands to run. Texting to do. Then I raced home and finished packing with NO time to spare. I grabbed the iPhone lightening plug adapter off the docking station, (and then promptly put it down again . . . somewhere), I grabbed the old charger (that must be used with the adapter) and when I got in the car my stepdad grabbed the black, newer, charger and I handed it to my mom in the backseat to put in my purse. But on the way to the airport someone stopped short and I had to slam on my brakes and things flew forward. I’m willing to lay money on the fact that my black, newer charger is currently laying on the floorboard of my car. Grr. Gnash.

So, here I am, on a plane. 30% power on my phone.

I need good power to my phone. It is a need. I need to text a few people to confirm my safe arrival. I need to use the GPS on my phone to take me the 45 minute drive from the airport to the hotel. I need my phone for my alarm in the morning. I need my phone, in short, to be connected with my life. Because, I need my people right now. I need to know that I HAVE people. At this time, especially.

I can’t help thinking that this is a metaphor for my life right now. The “plan as much as you want but I’m going to throw you a curveball you never expected” part of my life. Which is nearly all of it, to be honest.

When I sat down with my husband in the Spring and said, look, I think we need to separate and this is why, and this is what I think should happen next, a funny thing happened. Nothing went according to my plan. All my little miniatures in my Lego board of life did not move where I wanted them to move or do what I wanted them to do. I need to learn that I can’t plan someone else’s emotional response. DUH. That seems basic.

I recognize I have a need to control things. It’s why I don’t do drugs, and never have. It’s why I drink very little. I can’t stand feeling out of control. I also realize I have a need to plan extensively for ALL OF THE THINGS. This ties nicely with the control issue; the more I plan the more I can control the outcome.

Someone recently said to me, “You have to know everything.” Meaning, I have to always be in the know. I wrote that down and I carry that note with me. I’ve been contemplating it. Yes, I know that I always want to know about the things I want to know about. (Follow that?) If it’s something or someone I care deeply about then, yes, I need and want to know. But there are many, many things I could give a rat’s ass about and absolutely do not need the details.

So how do I find a happy medium? How do I let go enough to accept not knowing what I absolutely don’t need to know?

Need to know, need to know. I want to know. It’s like the Cate Blanchett role from Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. At the end she’s saying “I vant to know! I vant to know!” and she taps into the aliens brains and she just completely disintegrates. Isn’t that always the way? (I sure hope that last part doesn’t end up being a metaphor for my life as well).

My life is in such a state that I’m paralyzed by my inability to plan. My actions are dictated by others right now. Dictated by one driving force: emotion. I’m playing defense and I surely wish I was playing offense. Though I’m using a sports analogy, it’s not a competition. Not by a longshot. I’m trying to relieve the pressure, the pain, the angst by not being on the offensive. I’m consciously letting things unfold and only playing defense when absolutely required. But I have a feeling that this isn’t working to my benefit. Not even remotely.

If only all those little Lego miniatures would have done what I asked. If only they had gone the way I needed them to go. But it’s not a game, or toy. It’s life. Life is messy. It’s real. It’s unpredictable. I can plan all I want but there’s this little thing called emotion that, I think, can both flatten cities and cause widespread devastation. At the same time, it can build gorgeous bridges, transport people to a higher plane of being, and it’s our DAMN REASON FOR LIVING.

Emotion. It’s no joke. People need people. They just do.

In contemplation,

Stef

P.S. Be kind to each other.