tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29290514573519042262024-02-20T15:36:53.073-08:00Loving, but Inept ParentsLoving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-43368578774626318212012-05-29T16:49:00.000-07:002012-05-29T16:49:09.310-07:00well it *seemed* like a good ideaSo I don't come off looking very good in this one, but I think it's useful information to share so here goes: As a lot of you know, my back/hip has been all shades of messed up recently. I haven't been able to run since mid March. I finally figured out the cause of my distress; removal of a plantar wart. Yep, that's the ugly truth. That stupid wart showed up when I was maybe 10 yrs old or so. As far as I clearly remember it has just always been there. I was like 24 before somebody told me what it was. So of course, I probably should have had the thing surgically removed, but I tried most of the over-the-counter remedies to no avail. Last fall I read an article about wacky home remedies that really work, one was duct tape will get rid of warts. So having invested hundreds of dollars in wart removal aids in the last 15 years, I spent the $3.79 of a roll of hot pink duct tape. Well no shit, it works! But what I hadn't counted on is that I changed the structure of the bottom of my foot. I've been walking around on that damned growth for like 30 years and in just a few weeks I made to go away. Oh Hell my back and hips HATE me. It will get better, but for now there a a lot of visits to the chiropractor and acupuncturist in my near future as the rest of me adjusts to the new walking surface. How ridiculous is that?Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-37595807081470187142012-03-01T15:53:00.000-08:002012-03-01T15:53:11.182-08:00My weight; time to stop the sick yo-yo.As many of you know I am unhappy with my current weight. In thinking of what I will need to do to lose the weight I realized that never in my entire life have I been in "maintenance mode". When I am at an acceptable weight I start playing a sick game of 'how low can you go'. Last time I was serious about losing weight I had a secret goal of becoming underweight. So what always ends up happening is that I get tired of dieting and I give up entirely and gain everything back. This time I gained everything and then some. I don't know why I do this to myself. I just realized that this <i>is</i> what I do. I recently read that a BMI of 22 is ideal. The closer people are to 22 the healthier they tend to be. At the moment I sit solidly 20 pounds away from that and while that is a long term goal my short term is just to lose 10 pounds. Maybe settle there for a while. See if I can stay at that weight. I have to stop the pattern of up and down and learn how to settle. That will be a new thing for me. In the meantime, I'll keep running, maybe get back into the toning/weight work. Try to just "watch" what I eat as opposed to my usual obsessive calorie counting, and cut out the alcohol calories and see what happens. Now I just have to not obsess. That will be a trick in it's self. Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-23011865576838180292012-02-11T16:37:00.000-08:002012-02-11T16:37:52.098-08:00<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">OK folks, you're gonna have to bear with me. This is my new "cause". It's my kid's school-or Your kid's school-or Every kid's school. It's an idea we're trying to promote because it fills a variety of needs. <br />
<br />
Please Join Us For [Chaos's] 7th Birthday Party! Saturday, February 18th from 2-4pm at the Ice Arena, Blah blah. Chaos asks that instead of gifts for herself this year, she’d like her fr<span class="text_exposed_show">iends to each donate a small item to their classroom that can be shared by all. On a day where we, her parents, celebrate how much Chaos has grown, we think it’s a great idea to contribute to the school and the teachers who’ve helped her come this far. Miss Teacher’s wish list is below. We’ll have a special box at Chaos’s party for your classroom gifts. Miss Teacher’s wish list includes: Colored pencils-sharpened, please Glue sticks (Costco has good deals) Watercolor paints Big & medium paint brushes Thanks So Much For Helping Please RSVP To the loving but inept mom.<br />
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I ran the numbers, I found colored pencils on sale for $2 a box. Glue sticks were 3 for $2 as well. If the parents of each kid contributed just $25 my kid's teacher would have the supplies she needs.</span></span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show"> </span></span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show">If you've read this far, please tell me what you think and if you would consider doing this. Thanks! </span></span></span></h6>Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-29468797909972015792012-02-11T16:21:00.001-08:002012-02-12T08:00:12.047-08:00Religion MIGHT just be bad for kidsThis morning, as I sat in a class/meeting on officially becoming members of the church we have been going to, I had an interesting self-realization that led me to the idea that maybe we're (the greater "we") hurting our kids with religion more than we are helping them. <br />
I was raised Catholic. Ideas about religion and faith were presented as "this is what we believe". Everything was pretty black and white. I can only imagine that the religion worked for my folks. They never once gave me the idea that anything else was acceptable. "This is what we believe" or you're wrong was pretty solidly the impression I got.<br />
Now I am a grown woman. Sometimes I feel as if I have at least two personalities. The me I show to the world, and then that insecure me that few people see. The insecure one is the larger of the two, but she has so freaking many insecurities, paranoia(s) and phobias that darned few people get to see her. And even then, if I let people see all of my insecurities I fear they will lock me up and throw away the key. Sometimes I think maybe they should.<br />
So, all this comes together when I realized this morning that Catholicism never worked for me. I remember making my first communion (age 7) thinking that the whole thing was more that a little weird. How was this not cannibalism? (really, Catholics believe that it is <i>actually</i> the body and blood of Christ wrapped up in a little miracle each week just for them). And I just didn't believe it. As I grew up and learned more, went though more and more of their rights of initiation, the more I felt like I was drowning. I didn't believe this crap for an instant--and there was no way out. We lived across the street from our church and the school associated with it. EVERYONE I knew was catholic. I didn't <i>dare</i> ask anyone else if they didn't believe. I just knew that even though I wanted to believe, I just couldn't. As soon as I could get out, I did. But I realized this morning that I carry a whole world of insecurities simply because I grew up not believing in God the "right" way. <br />
Shortly after we started attending the church we do, I had an "ah-ha" moment: your church shouldn't define who you are or what you believe, your church should help you express what is already in your soul. And as much as I love my new church, I vow to be open to the idea that maybe this isn't the place where my children feel they belong as adults. And don't get me wrong, I <i>will</i> make them go to church, but I will never teach them that every other church and faith is wrong. Because just like I knew I didn't believe in Catholicism, I <i>do</i> believe that God has a place for every faith. <br />
This morning I figured out why I carry so many insecurities. Now that I know <i>why</i>, it's time to start finding ways to dump them. ThanksLoving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-77351511442186803682011-11-04T12:35:00.000-07:002011-11-04T12:35:10.816-07:00Gifts of Christmases PastLast year when I stumbled on a recipe that my husbands family had loved, but thought they had lost when their grandma died, I got to thinking about how easy it is to loose those little things we remember that made the holidays special. This year I am resurrecting a few other old recipes of Grandma Tallman's that I found in her old cookbooks. While we'll be giving the cookies to my in-laws as gifts, I think preserving some of these traditions, left over from "the old world", is also giving a gift to ourselves and our kids. In an effort to recover some of the lost past on my side of the family, I have contacted a cousin in Ireland and explained that I don't have any old, handed down traditional Irish recipes, and would he ask his mum, and her siblings what they remember. I explained that even if they could remember a name and a few ingredients, I could likely find something close on the Internet. I'm chasing down the past and trying to make new traditions for my own family. I want my kids to have more of a sense of their heritage than just knowing where their ancestors came from. <br />
One of the better gifts I have ever given, was homemade, and will probably never get used. In digging up old recipes, my mother-in-law gave me the names of some dishes that she remembered from her childhood. With those and a few others, I put together a "cookbook" of traditional Norwegian recipes. In between the recipes, I put old pictures of her family that I had found on Ancestry.com. Pictures of her grandparents when they were still in Norway. Pictures of her mother as a teen. Pictures of the family in later years, more the way she remembers them. My mother-in-law is in poor health. She can't do much cooking and baking the way she used to. She will probably never use even one of the recipes I printed out for that cookbook. But, when my husband gave her the cookbook, she remembered almost all the recipes I had found. Her hand traced over the pictures of her family. She murmured the names of loved ones lost long ago. And she was speechless. <br />
Hindsight being 20/20, I should have made a copy of that cookbook for myself, as well. Someday I will. For now, I keep fining new recipes to try, I'm still chasing down the old recipes, and I'm trying to find a heritage for my children that has nearly been lost.Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-51409125010890840142011-10-29T15:46:00.000-07:002011-10-29T15:46:59.258-07:00Marks of SuccessAbout a year ago I took an interest in cooking. It turns out that I'm pretty good at it. I have a good instinct for it. It's been a ton of fun building my own cookbook and trying new recipes. I love planning menus and organizing the grocery list so that I have a plan when it comes to dinner every night. I feel like I am doing something good for my family as well as for our household. It's funny how what I see as being a success was one of the trappings my own mother and especially her mother broke free from. Grandma was a professional woman. In the 40's darned few women went back to work after having children. Usually if a women went back to work after she had kids, it was because, for some reason, her husband couldn't or wouldn't support the needs of the family. With Grandma, that wasn't the case. I mean sure, they struggled through the depression like everybody else, but Grandpa had a pretty good nest-egg stashed. Grandma didn't cook much. I remember a few breads and things, our joke was always that our favorite family recipes could be "found on the back of the box" of brownies, or cake or whatever. In a lot of ways, to a lot of people, Grandma had made it. She had a good marriage, family and a career. My own mother was a stay at home mom, but she was really involved with a lot of things and rarely stayed at home on any given day. She was a lousy cook. To be very honest, I don't even think she really enjoyed what she cooked. I think "eatable" was really her highest goal in cooking. She had one cookie dough recipe she used for everything. It had variations for peanut butter cookies, chocolate chip, and sugar cookies. It was the only recipe she ever used to make cookies. Ever. She tried lots of new recipes. But in the end, while mom was good at a lot of things, cooking wasn't one of them. It was never a priority for her. She had other things she wanted to spend her time on. It's funny to me to look at how the marks of success change. My grandmother "got" to work and didn't cook. Just a couple of generations later I "get" to stay home and love cooking. I wonder what my daughter will do. :)Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-89679175273169548022011-10-26T19:50:00.000-07:002011-10-26T19:50:25.619-07:00Me learning to cook & the Visa commercialSo I only started to cook about a year ago. It has been fun, I seem to have a good instinct for these things. The best story, however, comes from last Christmas. I wanted to revive the Norwegian tradition of making 7 different kinds of cookies for the holidays. I found one recipe that looked really good, but I had to order one ingredient from Amazon.com. Bakers Ammonia is hard to find, and stupid expensive when you can find it. So, there I am making these Norwegian almond cookies and rolling the dough into little balls and sticking them in the freezer and my husband had a childhood flashback: he remembered those little dough balls in the freezer. So after they had frozen, and I cooked them, yep, they were exactly what my husband remembered from his childhood. A recipe that they thought they had lost with their Grandma, and I had pulled it off of the Internet. Who would have freaking guessed? It was better than a visa commercial, cause I had made the cookies-and they were perfect. We sent goodie boxes to all of his family for Christmas. For me, the best thing ever was giving them a little of their past as a Christmas gift. I hope to do it again this year, I have another recipe I need to try. :DLoving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-2279158250413888862011-10-26T12:32:00.000-07:002011-10-26T12:32:03.316-07:00women like thatI hate women like that. Even today in our modern world sometimes simply being a women puts us gals at a disadvantage. My husband's best friend has had the misfortune of having been married to two of those women who give the rest of us a bad name and it pisses me off! Wife #1 cheated on him, got credit cards in his name, and of course ran them up to the limits, and when he finally found out about it all, she wouldn't even talk about anything. She just bailed. He never saw it coming. He pretty much lost everything-and his credit. So after living on hot-dogs for a couple of years, he pulled himself out of debt and went back to working only one job so he could have a social life again. Enter wife #2 (current wife). I'm sure she has redeeming qualities, but for the life of me, I cannot understand how anyone can have such a one sided view of the world. The first Monday of EVERY month she has a standing hair appointment. Every Tuesday she has her nails done, every other Tuesday she gets a pedicure, too. She doesn't work outside the home and her one child is long since out of the house (I think he's nearly 30 now) and she constantly complains about how busy she is. The kicker? The once or twice a year my husband and his best friend get a chance to go out and have a couple beers together, she gripes about the cost of him going out! My husband said the last time he was at their house she acted like he (my husband) was stealing the bread from their table. And given that my husband has to drive an hour and a half each way, it's not like they go out and hit every bar in town! Seriously, there's this little Mexican joint they head to, have a couple of beers and the fish tacos. That's it! And she complains about him spending the money to go out-with his best friend since high school-like once every 10 months or so. I hate women like that. Don't you?Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-56272437305304488112011-10-11T11:50:00.000-07:002011-10-11T11:50:08.704-07:00I'm still a little twitchyI used to like October. The change of seasons is refreshing. Leaves turning colors, crisp air, all that sort of stuff. Now it seems that October just makes me apprehensive and uneasy. Two years ago my husband and I had the October from hell. There is no explaining the build up of pressure that happened all around us. A lot of it didn't happen directly to us, so much as it seemed like every thing around us crumbled. Over the course of one month six people we knew died. Some, like my Aunt's passing was sad, but not tragic. My friends niece dying at age 12 in a car accident was tragic. Lenny OD-ing in a hotel room came as a shock, too. Another two were lost to cancer. Our neighbor had been unhealthy for a while, but none of us thought he was gonna up and die right then. Two others were injured in a way that neither of them will ever fully recover. With one of them we still don't know exactly what the hell happened, head injury, possible bear attack, unfortunately when our friend came out of his two month coma, he had no clue as to what happened. My husband and then 4yr old daughter got H1N1. Pretty much the highlight of the month was the cat breaking his leg. <br />
I've been thinking about some of them a lot lately. I miss them. So I'm gonna try to keep a lid on it, but every once in a while I look back at that month and still get a little shakey. October sure ain't what it used to be.Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-72393430480968987922011-08-16T21:49:00.000-07:002011-08-16T21:49:41.707-07:00Race for the CureI'm a really bad runner. I have NO clue what possessed me to do the "Race for the Cure" for/against breast cancer next month. For my race, I'm making a list of women who have suffered/fought/however you see it, with breast cancer. My mom tops the list. She had breast cancer twice, and ironically, it was colon cancer that killed her. If any of my new friends on my new page read my blog and would like to post a name for my list, I promise I will run with that list in my hand. I hope I don't end up running with a phone-book sized list, but I'm sadly expecting that I might. Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-12500327973526836092011-08-10T16:01:00.000-07:002011-08-10T16:38:46.936-07:00Good Parent or Mean Mom? The Jury is still out.I have always been a no fun mom. I'm paranoid she's gonna get hurt, killed, snatched, or something else even worse. I have a strong sense of realism and know that someday I'm going to turn her out into the real-world and expect her to function as an adult I can respect. So imagine how mortified I was when we were walking home from the store and she tossed her grape stems on the street in front of some random house. We doubled back, but in a sudden loss of memory, she couldn't find her trash. I swear, it is a good thing we were in public or I probably would have slapped the flippant little bitch. We were just around the corner from our house. I told her to run home, and get her butt in bed and hope that I calmed down before her brother and I got there. So, now it's not yet 4pm, she is in bed for the day, and I am throwing out some of her toys to make a point about how it hurts when people disrespect our property. I'm not throwing out a lot, mostly just the Mr. Potato Head set that has been a thorn in my side from the day my husband wasted $20 at Costco on it. <br />
I'm livid with the kid still. Really?? Just throwing trash on somebody's yard??? She's luck I only grabbed a grocery bag to toss her toys into. Or am I just being mean?Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-23620455835576253862011-08-09T16:21:00.000-07:002011-08-09T16:21:09.560-07:00My Mid-life Reorganization<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My Ongoing Evolution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Last summer, my husband was on a long tour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the time, he’s gone for a few weeks here, then home for a week or so, then back to the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last summer was 3 months straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had survived that kind of time apart before, but last year it broke me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent several days practically chanting “I hate my life”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, I realized that something had to give, I couldn’t keep going that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to figure out what I could do to change my situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt trapped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed like every direction I could think of to turn in, there was a very valid reason stopping me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted a change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was bored, restless, lonely, and completely phoning it in as a mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, while I was paying attention to the kids, the house, the yard, my husband and everyday life, I had lost myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is so not like me. I don’t know how it happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can only imagine it happened slowly, over time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s just so not me. To top it off, now that I have checked back in to me, I’m not the same person I was last time I checked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I want has shifted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to go back to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to quit smoking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to finally loose that last ten pounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to be selfish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s sort of an early mid-life crisis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that I am over the crisis part and into the changing part, I prefer to think of it as my mid-life reorganization.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still have times where I slip back to the way I was before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t eat right, I blow off exercising,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drink more wine than I have allotted calories for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of those lost pounds have now been found again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(It seems like no matter where I loose them, they are never far behind me) It’s all an ebb and flow thing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a fun kind of a mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope that when my kids are old enough they understand that I love them and the only way I could keep from hating them was to start loving me again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thank God everyday for my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has handled all of this like the knight in shining amour he always has been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know how he does it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s my biggest supporter, even from thousands of miles away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-4039967258240591722011-08-08T20:23:00.000-07:002011-08-08T20:23:13.122-07:00cause it's funny<strong><span></span></strong><strong><a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.143636312383364.39716.142129939200668&type=1">Wall Photos</a></strong><strong></strong>Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-18683284240753504472011-08-08T19:54:00.000-07:002011-08-08T19:54:10.288-07:00Life, the economy, and other shit that screws with me.So, even us hand-to-mouth bottomfeeders know that this economy sucks. It's costing me my "unwilling surrogate" mother. <br />
<br />
When she moved in across the the street we were just neighbors. As we talked, we discovered that her daughter and I were born the same summer. One awful day, when I was missing my mom so much that I could NOT get it together, no matter how much I tried, I showed up on her doorstep, crying, with only the choking sounds of " I-just-really-miss-my-mom" as an explanation. Thus, my unwilling surrogate. She was the first one I showed the pregnancy test to. (yes, she willingly looked at a pee'd on stick). She was the one who we called when things got dicey during my second pregnancy. Now, she's moving to AZ. Moving in with her real daughter. The economy here sucks. This is no-one's idea of plan A. I want to send a letter to the President. But this isn't his fault. Even though I despise my Congressman, this isn't even his fault. My unwilling surrogate and I have discussed that this isn't even a depression; it's a new low that is going to make us all rethink how we deal with life. I cannot even begin to explain how much I do not want to have to think about anymore than I already do. Is anybody else tired? <br />
So, here we are. Please share the stuff that makes your day-to-day life easier, laundry schedules, recipes, coupon tips, etc. Feel free to ask for help with what hinders your existence. Some days I just need to vent. Some days I need to have a wine-date across the "net". Some days I have a great moment where our church pastor has some great way of looking at things that makes me feel less crazy. Some days I find some new nail polish that has both the 6yr old and I ridiculously pleased. If it can help, it's valid is a philosophy of mine. So, who has what to share?Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929051457351904226.post-27812689837084459512011-08-08T18:43:00.000-07:002011-08-08T20:09:49.494-07:00My first BlogWow, so I have this idea that I need to share everything all in one dose. Ask anybody who knows me and they can tell you that it's a bad idea. If you count pregnancy, I've been a mom for just over seven years now and at least 4 confirmed kids. In reality my daughter is 6 1/2 and my son is 2 1/2. I am a stay at home mom and my husband frequently travel, leaving me alone w/ too much for my feeble little brain. Daily I think that I am not a good parent. Daily, I think that my kids are going to turn out better than most of their peers. I struggle with being true to me, and being a responsible adult. I write this in hopes of getting like-minded folk to share ideas and support a new idea of "functional family". I cling dearly to many (not all) of the ideals I was raised with. I cannot be my parents, and, as much as I love them, I do not want to be them. In a nut shell, that's why I'm here. There are more fractions to explain, like my new jogging obsession, but, that has to wait till at least next hour. Thanks folks~Loving, But Inept Parentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09657857522494423878noreply@blogger.com0