So I broke up with my parents

First, a recipe!

Tacos from the Heart

Needed:
1 dead cow
Skills in butchering animals for food (serial killers need not apply)
1 cow heart from said dead cow.

Boil the heart slowly over a few hours, in water and salt. Beef heart is big, so you might need to cut it to fit in the pan. Let it cool, make sure it’s tender, and cut off the excess fat. Then cut it into long, thin strips.

Heat up some oil in a pan and throw in onion and garlic to taste. Then throw in some cut hot chiles. And salt. Salt is good. Throw in more onions if you love them like I do. Let it all simmer.

Serve with your favorite non store bought salsa, beans, and tortillas. (Corn tortillas, or even flour ones but avoid the nasty wheat tortillas. Them’s nasty.)

Now, on to the break up. I find it highly ironic that my first big break up was with my parents. My only boyfriend is now married to me, and by the grace of God our marriage is doing well so far. So my first big break up is not a boyfriend, or even a fiancé, but my parents.

Oh sure, I’ve told old “friends” to hit the road before. But that is less a break up and more because of our ages and maturity levels. It was mostly mutual, except in the case of a genuine stalker I had that took YEARS to remove from my life.

In any case, this is awkward. Who breaks up with their parents? I might even try writing a book about it, because it feels that weird.

So a few nights ago, after taking a long break from the crazy people I call my parents, we met at a local restaurant. My husband went with me for support. Right away, as soon as I let them know what was up, they tried to attack me by getting through to my husband. Classy.

There was a lot of gas lighting. Gas lighting is when one person flat out denies, minimizes, or ignores the experience of another for the purposes of getting the other under control and questioning their own memories, experiences, or even sanity. In their case, my parents claimed not to remember anything that I said. When I pressed, they said I must have an incorrect memory. Because I am a human blood hound for lies and half truths, I kept pressing relentlessly until my mom blamed her conveniently faulty memory in anti-depressants.

I looked at my father, and asked him “So what is YOUR excuse?”

“Stress”, he replied. He didn’t even acknowledge that I called my mother out on her excuse, and his.

What followed was nothing that interesting, just lots of implying that I was the crazy one, conveniently recovered memories that were very sharp concerning my perceived faults, and finally dwindled down into telling me that I was a terrible person, wrong, that this was all “bullshit”, and that I was being “vindictive”.

In short it went about as crappy as I thought it would. I did come into the break up meeting offering an olive branch. What it boiled down to was either they acknowledge the past, take responsibility, and apologize, or I no longer have contact with them. What was more important- their pride and emotional self preservation or their relationship with their daughter?

As always, the former won over the latter. The closest I got was a “sorry for whatever the hell we did, but we don’t remember”.

Here is the reason apologies are important. Many people would say I should just accept that my parents are who they are and that I should lie flatter so they can happily keep walking over me. I would say those people are ignorant. An apology doesn’t fix hurt feelings, or heal broken pasts. What it does, is show that the person making the apology is aware of how they have failed. If you can see where you have failed, you can avoid doing the same failure again. It also shows that if you don’t avoid that failure, then you are responsible enough to continue taking responsibility. An apology is humility which is a necessary ingredient for friendship.

That is why apologies are important, especially in cases of abuse.

I’ve already forgiven my parents, but reconciliation is not possible. In their minds I’m “vindictive”, crazy, and “punishing” them. They aren’t mature enough to examine the reasons why their daughter is so ready to leave them in the past. Forgiving them I can do, but the power of reconciliation is out of my hands. I can be willing (reluctantly, but I could try) except that it isn’t possible on their end.

If I were to try reconciliation with these people who still see me as their bad little scapegoat, reconciliation would not happen. Instead, I’d be volunteering for abuse, sadness, anger, frustration all on my part. Instead of being a victim I’d be volunteering.

Their pride and egos are far more important to them than making a real, healthy relationship with me. I am not willing to teach my own daughter that that sort of unhealthy dynamic is acceptable.

They want me to come back and be a better doormat. I want them to be the parents they never were.

So I broke up with them.

OMG THIS IS AWESOME

I was going to write about my break up with my parents (and I will soon) but this is just too cool.

I’ve been using an app called Kindara. It’s more in alignment with FAM (fertility awareness method) than with NFP (Natural Family planning) but it is an AWESOME family planning app. The major difference is that FAM allows for condoms, but I just plan on not using condoms anyways. In any case it’s a great app that really helps empower women to know what their body is doing and why.

All I can say is that I am beyond excited. Because of my home study course in NFP and Kindara (not to mention double checking with scientific articles that are peer reviewed) and using some ovulation sticks…

I now not only know what a luteal phase is, I know how long mine currently is. Not only do I know that, but I can predict when my period will be. (Well, I have a period right now but I have a short luteal phase due to breast feeding) I now know when I can get pregnant, and when it’s less likely.

WHY don’t they teach girls this in high school? Or when we hit puberty? My sex Ed classes were a joke, were almost all centered on the almighty penis and the scary boogie man of venereal disease. We had condoms thrown at us luke theyvwere magic wands against STI’s (pro-tip: they’re not magically effective) and were all but ordered to take the pill. Heck, it wasn’t even taught to us that you can only get pregnant a handful of days each month, and that for some women it can be difficult. The luteal phase was glossed over, and all we knew about it was that at some point we would begin menstruating again.

It wasn’t until I was pregnant that I had an understanding of how the uterus works, where it is, and how fertilization occurs. It wasn’t until I was interested in breast feeding that I learned how the breast works.

I was LUCKY that I had a period so regular I could literally set my clock to it. Before I got pregnant, barring extreme stress I could have followed the Rhythm Method. In fact that is what I used to get pregnant!

Even then though I felt a little annoyed I couldn’t pinpoint my ovulation, and had a dim understanding at beat what a luteal phase is and how that affects my cycle and ability to get pregnant. Now I know.

Even if you’re pro-birth control (which I strongly suggest you do research and reconsider that) I encourage anyone out there stumbling on this blog to go and learn about FAM and NFP. There are many methods, and all can bring a greater awareness of your own female body (and for men, it can be interesting to know how your wife or girlfriend works).

I am just beyond excited. I successfully avoided a pregnancy (not that I don’t want more kids but yeesh, lets give the bank account and my body a chance to breathe) I know about when to expect a period even though my cycles are a lot longer than they used to be, and I also know that if I were to try conceiving now it would be difficult due to a shorter luteal phase…which is affected by breast feeding!

My body is no longer some magical boogie woman mystery to me that sends a period when I least want it and magically sprouts a baby when I only kinda sorta know how or why!

This is awesome. Lets hope the real feminists out there promote this more often. I don’t need a damn pill to “cure”me of being a fertile woman. I need knowledge and understanding so I can be as fertile and as womanly as I should be.

You don’t need to be Catholic to like that. Get on it women- we aren’t “mysterious” and “peculiar” as if that means we can’t explain how our own organs work! Lets drag this stuff out into the 21st century, and ditch the idea that women and their reproductive systems are “too complicated” to interpret or know.

PS even though I know that this may not work, when I get a job I will soooo try to time my baby making so that the birth is hopefully around a big holiday. Hhehehee, I shall be sneaky and squeeze out a couple more weeks out of the measly maternity leave American women are given. (Seriously, America… 1-6 weeks max is not enough time, especially for the women who work so hard for peanuts. And quit telling women to be proud of going back to work a day after giving birth. That’s not brag worthy that’s actually dangerous, you sexist idiots.)

Maybe A New Method?

So I am on my first and second month of using the Creighton model of NFP, and so far I’m not a fan. I co-sleep, breast feed, and I’m post partum. Using breast feeding as a control method works only until you have a period, and boy was I pissed to find out that those are already returning. I liked not using tampons or pads, and I am jealous of the women who don’t have them until 12 or more months post partum.

My breast feeding and co sleeping and post partum weirdness makes my mucous wacky, my temps wacky, everything wacky and difficult to interpret. It also makes sex a little more stressful. Don’t get me wrong- I do want another baby. But I’d like to wait at least a year. And both husband and I have crazy high sex drives.

So I bought the books, thinking this should all be easy. It would be, if I were not post partum and were like before I got pregnant. I had a cycle so regular it probably would have actually worked with the rhythm method!

Creighton, after about two months, doesn’t seem to be working well with me. I’m just all over the place, and I have no clue when my next period will be. I would really like to know that, please and thank you.

So the other week, I decided I wanted something other than my own observations to back me up. I’m terrible at science and observations after all. So I picked up a Clear Blue ovulation kit (digital, because I am not wasting my time staring at two lines and second guessing the darkness) and started using it.

I also kept charting my mucous, my cervical position and whether or not the os was open, and my temps, annnnd my internal sensations.

Holy crap, for the first time in my life I believe I have pinpointed where my ovulation was.

My mucous was a bit iffy, but the same day I hit the smiley face my cervix was high, soft, and OPEN! I had wondered if it was open before. I had thought it was open before. NOPE. Now I know what open feels like. Also, I finally got that crampy feeling that I always used to wonder why…turns out that that I likely my ovulation. And as soon as that two day smiley period went away, my cervix got lower, harder, and more closed. I might have an idea when my upcoming period will be.

As a woman, this is intoxicating. It is possible I can start to understand my own cycle.

The Creighton method is nice, but for me it feels like I am driving a car with only one working headlight. I can see enough but I am not very confident. God help me if the four legged monster of doom (aka deer) jumps into the road.

So I did some more research and found out that what I am doing is actually similar to the Marquettte method. I might switch to that. It is more expensive, but…I will pay for less stress and more confidence.

Plus I kinda like peeing on a stick. I’m wierd.

Lol with all this natural stuff I’m doing I may just go crunchy. I have been researching cloth diapers…

Task List Woo!

Well, since its clearly useless to try looking for a job (thanks would be employers. I can’t wait to watch your businesses crash and burn so I can hear you whine about being “poor”) I am turning my attention to running the house as well as I can.

Granted, the damn landlord never fixes anything, and there is some stuff we just can’t do (or maybe we can, if the landlord won’t send anyone other than a couple of drunks to fix things) but other things I can do.

This past week I’ve had it. My husband, though he works hard outside of the house, is a total slob inside of it. I have a tendency to get disorganized. Both of us together at our worst equals disaster. To top it off, I grew up with conditions that if they weren’t worthy of an episode on Hoarders, they were close.

I’m talking dishes not cleaned for weeks, potatoes left to rot so long they had maggots (I almost threw up on that one) dead ants in various foods, and always a mysterious stench you didn’t want to know the source of. And that’s to say nothing of the piles of junk. When I left for Useless University, I was determined to never live like that again.

I’ve succeeded for the most part, but my house is ridiculously disorganized. The dishes never seem to get all the way done. Almost all our floors are tile because the landlord is cheap, so dust accumulates. The bathrooms aren’t gross but they aren’t pretty either. My husband’s problem is being lazy. Mine is letting my ADD take control.

House cleaning with ADD is a pain in the ass. About a third of the dishes get done and suddenly it occurs to me that I should really dust the surfaces. Halfway through dusting I remember some clothes need cleaning so I put them in the wash, and forget to turn the knob because I remember that I was supposed to be done with the dishes already! By the end if the day none of my projects are finished, it looks like I was lazy, and I’m cranky and exhausted. Oh and the laundry has dried soap on it. Ewwww.

So yesterday I managed to force myself to sit still long enough to make a list of all the chores that need to be done, dividing the rooms and days they needed to be done. I also assigned my husband tasks because if I didn’t, he would not be compelled at all to do them. It’s domestic abuse, but I really want to slap him when he says “but it’s so easy when you do it!” Haaaa haaa haaaah. Then I went to search for a free app to manage my tasks.

Astrid got bought up by Yahoo, and so they ruined it like they do with anything good on the Internet. Eventually, after going through many wastes of memory, aka “lite apps” I came upon Any.Do.

I’m in love. Cute, simple, quick and so far free of bugs.

Suddenly, shit is getting done. My house is looking more lived in and less like a hurricane, and I think just a couple says more and the routine will be down enough so that we will actually not have to do any serious cleaning if visitors come over.

This might not work for every ADD person out there but it works for me. Just having a list, even if its all over the place, makes me feel competitive. Plus, the Any.Do app sends me coupons. Sure it’s for stuff that I would never buy anyways because its either impractical or way too expensive…but dude…coupons!

Now to get out my off brand lemon pledge and make like Consuela from Family Guy.

“Afuera afuera. No, no, noooo. Shitty kitty go afuera.”