So it’s day 20 of NaBloPoMo – where those of us who are insane courageous enough to try, are writing a blog post every day in November. Every freaking wonderful day.

I am going to admit it, I was feeling a little tired of it.

And then? Someone made my day!

Tricia from Raising Humans awarded lil ol’ me, the Liebster Award in this post. She totally made my Sunday so much brighter. Especially since I read her e-mail at 1:50AM after my husband and I were woken up by someone drunk, screaming “GO AHEAD AND SHOOT! KILL ME!!!” outside our window. So after calling 911 and making sure our doors were locked, I checked my e-mail, to learn about this award. I finally fell back asleep dreaming of writing my acceptance post! Thanks, Tricia 🙂

1. Copy and paste the award on your blog.
2. Thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you.
3. Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
4. Hope that your followers will spread the love to other bloggers.

According to Tricia and her research, Liebster is a German word meaning beloved or favorite. So I have picked my top 5 blogs (with under 200 readers, in no particular order) who have not already received this award (I’m looking at you Tricia and Kenya!

Rachel @ Totally Ovar It – she is honest, open, and a talented writer. Her most recent favorite post of mine is here and should be read by everyone.

Amy @ Somebody’s Parents – I’ve been following this blog for awhile now, and I love the honest look at parenthood. A plus? They have an in with the Jedi Knights!

Sarah @ Baby Talk – I was a lurker on her blog for a long time, especially as we were in the beginning phases of TTC (trying to conceive). I’ve recently de-lurked? Un-lurked? Whatever. She’s awesome, and she’s pregnant – go give her some love!

Taylor @ Goings on Out in West Texas – she’s a wonderful blogger and one of my favorite recent posts was about running (in which I am reminded why I quit running!)

Mrs. B @ From Our Place To Yours – I’ve been following this blog for awhile, and she’s awesome! Not to mention her daughter, who steals the show in this vlog!

I have lots of blogs that you should follow if you look to the right of the screen! It’s hard choosing just 5 (especially since I am such a libra, and have a hard time with decisions!)

So, a couple of posts back I promised a cheerier post, and while this one won’t be as dark and gloomy as the last two, it does deal with a problem I have. I collect crap. Lots of crap. I always have, and to some degree, probably always will.

To really illustrate just what I’m talking about here, and in order to properly give you a good picture of the resolution (this story has a happy ending), I’m going to have to give you some history. I’ll try to keep it short and not ramble on like the old man that I am, (GET OFF MY PORCH YOU YOUNGINGS!).

My parents did a very good job of supplying me with nice things to play with. Being a boy, and one who wasn’t into cars or sports, my primary love was action figures, figurines, and pretty much anything that I could use to act out my own stories. Creativity and imagination are great, right?

Unfortunately, I also have some obsessive tendencies. I like things to be complete. I like to have every character in a set, or as close as I can get. You might be thinking something like, “Well that’s not so bad, I (or someone I know) used to collect Star Wars characters, or baseball cards, or My Little Ponies as a kid.” Well, I liked multiple toy lines. I have had large very respectable collections of the following: Smurfs, He-Man, Transformers, G.I.Joe, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Care Bears, ThunderCats, Silverhawks, Rock Lords, Army Ants, Food Fighters, X-Men, Spider-Man, Beast Wars, Battle Builders, Star Wars, The Simpsons, and Spongebob Squarepants. And that’s not counting toy lines that I had a couple of figures from here and there, that are too numerous to bother mentioning. And I also had a TON of board games.

And SpongeBob? Could an old fart like me have been a kid at any point in Spongebob’s 12 and a half year history? Oh no, this didn’t end with childhood. I did stop buying and playing with toys for a few years in my early to mid teens because I felt that it wouldn’t be “cool”. Then, upon graduating high school, growing up, getting a job, and being able to drive, I decided I could have more than ever. I had grown up resources and the sky was the limit!

Where did all of this get stored? When most kids are growing up, their old toys get put into a yard/garage/tag sale. But for someone like me that has a hard time letting go of crap, my old toys got stored in the loft of our old barn.

I can remember being 12 and giving some things to charity, but not a lot. I don’t know why I have always had trouble giving stuff up, especially stuff I don’t use anymore. I think I feel like I’m throwing out the memories of enjoying it, and being rude to whoever got it for me (in the case of my childhood toys) by getting rid of it, even if it’s something I no longer need.

It didn’t end with toys. When I was in my early teens, I decided to obsessively tape every episode of my favorite shows. I started collecting comic books and video games. I had various trading card games and role-playing games.  As an adult, I got into collectible miniature games, Heroclix in particular.

At first, the system of storing things in the barn worked out ok. Then when I really went crazy with obsessively buying crap as an adult, my room got full, and things were spilling out into oddball corners of other rooms at my parents’ house. Then I moved into my own house. This gave me some room to spread out my clutter, but not enough room to put the stuff in the barn and every little thing from my parents’ house.

I think my road to healing began in 2009. About a month before Jenn and I were engaged, we tried a “trial living together week”, where she moved in from Sunday to Sunday. One of the first things she wanted to do was get rid of the Spongebob decor in the bathroom (yes, I’m serious, there was even a framed Spongebob toilet seat on the wall). This really bothered me at first. I didn’t want to throw out the Spongebob shower curtain and hangers, etc. I wanted to at least keep them packed in the garage.  There was a lot of crying.  Serious crying.  Jenn tried to convince me that it was just a shower curtain, but such a change was painful to me.  Jenn suggested that maybe we weren’t meant to live together and our relationship was as serious as it was going to get.  She also said something to the effect of “It’s like you don’t want me to move in with you, you just want to have your house the way it is with me in it.”

I think this is what finally truly snapped my brain into sanity.  Jenn did convince me to grow up and accept change, after a tear filled, whiny morning.  What is a bunch of Spongebob crap compared to the life we were trying to build together?  She didn’t know it, but at the time I was planning on proposing within the next few months.  That wasn’t going to go to waste over a damn shower curtain.

So we bought some new decor and put it up, and dumped the Spongebob stuff in my parents’ dumpster.  It felt great picking out stuff together and putting it up!

That spring, we were engaged and Jenn planned to move in at the end of June when her and Stacey’s apartment lease was up.  Naturally, I thought it would be very welcoming of me to let her bring her stuff with her.  That meant getting rid of a lot of my junk.  So I went through a rigorous process covering a month or so of cleaning up, throwing stuff out, and getting things together for a yard sale.  It was fun, although I admit it was a little freaky on occassion watching people walk off with my stuff.

We were married in the fall, and that winter/spring, I decided after three and a half years, that it was time to clean out my parents’ barn.  I believe I spent 5 weekends cleaning it out, sorting things into trash, goodwill, and “keep” piles.  I kept my most favorite toys from all of my favorite toy lines and put them in a single box.  Continuing from there, I tackled the piles of stuff in our garage, that used to be in my old bedroom.  I think that was another two weekends.

It was then I realized that there was consequence to my hoarding; it was stealing time from me while I purged it all. This “curse” is haunting me to this day. A big part of getting the house ready for sale is getting rid of stuff. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it’s getting much closer than it was a few years ago. A couple more trips to Goodwill and I’ll mainly be down to my 5,000 or so comics, which I plan on selling most of. In fact, I actually did sell four last week: It’s a start!

Jenn has helped me a lot with my weird hoarding tendencies. She’s helped me see that when you throw something out you still have the memory, and she’s helped me to better sort what I’ll actually use at some point from what will get thrown in the back of a closet not to be seen again until the next big cleanout. Just one of the many ways that she’s helped me grow as a person, and one of the many reasons why I’m so lucky to have her.

The sky was an intense blue. A blue that over the years, I have named “September Blue,” because it always appears during the fall and it makes me happy from the inside out. It’s a kind of blue that gives contrast to the whole rest of the Earth.

My fists were white from gripping his hand so tightly. My mind was racing as I surveyed the crowd. I took deep breaths in, but forgot to let them out. I smiled tightly at my family.

My friend held the radio, positioned to play the perfect song.

Tears formed in my eyes.

My best friend looked at me, nudged me with her eyes. “They’re waiting for you, you know. You have to tell us when you’re ready.”

“Me?” I asked, hesitantly, “why are they waiting for me?”

She chuckled.

I didn’t get the joke.

“Because my dear, you’re the bride.“

I exhale sharply.

One tear falls. I look at my Father. I look at my Mother.

I nod at my friend.

The music begins to play.

Flickerstick begins to sing, “Lift up your head. Focus on every detail.”

And we begin to walk.

Toward him.

Toward my future.

Toward forever.

Most days, I love you.

You are there for me, pretty much whenever I need you.

You are never late, you never forget about me, you are there for me to hold onto.

You make me a better version of who I am.

You give me feedback that is constructive (and sometimes a little painful to hear).

But some days, I never want to see you again.

It’s not usually your fault – it’s just that when I’ve had a long day and I know we should hang out, I just choose not to. And then I feel guilty, because you’re probably hanging out with someone else.

But you wait. Tirelessly… you wait for me.

Until I lace up my sneakers, plug in my earphones, and we get that party started.

Thank you, Elliptical.

I love you from the bottom of my box of Girl Scout Cookies,
Jenn

This post was in a response to a writing prompt given by noneother than Mama Kat herself. Check out her amazing writing prompts that will inspire you, challenge you, and force you to write love letters to inanimate objects.

Sometimes I need inspiration for a post.

Luckily, I have met some amazing folks during this blog journey. One, gave me a great idea! Ms. Kenya of Sporadic Publications did a post about all the names she has. She had a wonderful post about her lovely nicknames, her favorite being “Christopher’s Mom” (cue *aww!* so sweet!) I read this blog and say “yes! I must do that!” and I start to think about my nicknames. And then, I begin to think I’m very strange.

They start out innocent enough.

My Mom and Dad call me “Munch” (short for Munchkin) or “JL” (initials of my first and middle name) or “Snugs” (short of Snuggles) and “Jennifurry” (Mom, do you remember where that one came from?!). There is nothing more endearing to me that these names, because they were my first nicknames. And they are sweet and cute.

Then, enter Stacey, my best friend. Somehow in my time hanging out with her I have earned the nickname of Brush, Cujo, and J-Dauwgh. Say what? Yeah, we are supah dupah weird. As evidenced by the fact that her nicknames are Comb and Snakepit.

Enter another bit of sweetness, my husband. When he isn’t calling me J-Dauwgh, he will call me honey or babe, and a variety of other sweet and cute nicknames that I used to mock until he called me them and I just started to melt (love is a strange thing, no?)

Together, myself (J-Dauwgh), Stacey (Snakepit) and my husband (C-Money) call ourselves The Unit. “The Unit” was created on a sugar-high while driving to Vermont on my 26th birthday. The rest is history.

In my work I’m just Jenn. Or Miss Jenn (which is so adorable). Or Mrs. G (in the school I work at). Or that lady that makes me talk about my feelings (what-evah, it’s my job, kid).

So what IS in a name? I’m hoping not too much, since I SWEAR I am nothing like Cujo. Most days.

So what about you? What’s your funniest, weirdest, or sweetest nickname?

I work with bullies. I work with kids being bullied.

I work with parents who are bullies. I work with parents who were bullied.

It’s out of control. In a serious, life-threatening way.

It’s not the bullying of days gone by. I’m only 29, and the bullying that happens today is about 1,000,000 times worse than “my day.” When I felt bullied, it was because someone said I smelled like tuna fish. This may or may not have led to a life-long fear of smelling like tuna fish, but it did not lead to suicide. It did not lead to dreading school, avoiding others, self-isolation, and self-loathing. At worst, it caused me tears and a whole lot of jars in Baby Soft perfume (love that stuff). I don’t mean to belittle any experience with bullying in the past, it is all stressful, but I do believe it is a different beast these days.

A lot of the parents I work with assume that when I talk about bullying, I mean relatively harmless interactions between kids. They throw our sayings like “boys will be boys,” or “that’s how they learn how to toughen up.” I don’t believe that anything about today’s bullying is harmless. In fact, I hestitate to call it bullying- because it is frequently more like terrorizing. And it isn’t just high school. It’s middle school. It’s elementary school.

This changing world of ours allows kid to be in constant contact with one another. I have kids who are in third and fourth grade with cell phones! Why? Just in case. Of what, I’m not sure. Kids who have access to laptops, computers, and iPads. Kids who see too much, hear too much, and are exposed to too much. Bullying is happening earlier because kids are “growing up” earlier, but they can’t handle it. Because they aren’t meant to hear and see so much from the adult world. Pleeease parents, do not let your kids have unsupervised time on the internet.

Bullying is becoming terrorizing because kids can no longer escape it. Social media, internet, phones. They are all connected all the time. It’s easier to hide. It’s easier to be anonymous if you are the one doing the bullying. Being connected all the time isn’t healthy for anyone, much less children who don’t have the ability to distinguish the internet world from reality, nor the established self-esteem to be able to withstand negative comments.

There is no one magic answer for bullying to disappear. Unfortunately. I think much of what it will take is everyone (not just parents, not just teachers, everyone) to be tuned in to what is happening. If a child is complaining of being picked on- this isn’t a time to let it go. If you have kids, know who their friends are. Often times kids will explain their friends, only to find out that their “friends” are bullies or unfriendly kids. Humans do not necessarily come hard-wired to understand what a good friend is – lots of kids assume that any attention means that someone is a friend (or even a best! friend! ever! omg!). Also? Bullying does not happen only if your kid is “different” or gay, or has red hair. It can happen to any kid.

I cannot stress enough how strongly I feel about this, because I see the fall-out every day. Now, we all see it in the news, with multiple suicides from teenagers and new laws being produced around online bullying.  As adults in the world, we need to pay attention to this. We need to unplug OURselves and plug in to the youth, to our kids. Before it’s too late.

When she was 5 years old, she often came home from kindergarten and stayed home alone, sometimes for the entire night. She slept under her bed when she was left alone, so no one could find her. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she would drag a chair from her room to her baby brother’s crib to pick him up when he cried even though she was afraid of the dark.

When he was 8 he tried to jump out of a window to get away from his mother’s abusive boyfriend. He broke his arm, and his mother refused to go to the hospital with him.

She lost an important piece of herself when she was 4. Her father took it from her one night when her mother was in the hospital recovering from surgery. She was wearing a pink nightgown, and couldn’t escape.

When he was 6, he got between his mother and father during a fight. A door that was meant to be slammed into his mother, was slammed into him. His wrist was broken. Loud noises make him cringe, he jumps at every movement, never trusting his environment to be safe.

One night, his father passed out in the shower, intoxicated. At 7 years old, he stayed up all night to make sure his father kept breathing.

She was born addicted to cocaine. Her mother left her on her grandmother’s doorstep when she was 3 days old. She is developmentally delayed and cannot emotionally attach to her grandmother. She is trapped in her own brain.

Their stories are heavy. Burdens that no human, but especially, no child should have to bear. But they do. They carry their stories with them every day. Often, you can see their stories in their behavior. They cry easily. They startle easily. They lie. They disrupt classrooms. They have nightmares. They refuse to talk to you. They deny their feelings. They overcompensate. They have flashbacks. They hoard food.

Because their stories are too heavy.

They end up in my office or the office of someone like me. They are desperate to give up some of their burden, to feel important, to feel heard. I do my best to be a safe person, to show them that a story carried together is always lighter.

Last Sunday, on a whim (and because I lacked the ability to pull together sentences), I did a stream of consciousness post. Then I googled this concept and found my people! My people being those who participate in Stream of Consciousness Sunday all together through this awesome blogger’s website! So now I get to do this every Sunday without feeling like I’m a lazy blogger. Score!

So, the breaking news of the morning is that I’m still blogging every day for NaBloPoMo! I’ve even gotten used to typing NaBloPoMo (believe me, I double checked this everytime I wrote it for several days because I didn’t want to be that blogger– the one you feel sorry for because she can’t even use the acronym correctly on the project she undertook). Right. So pat on the back, I’m still in the game!

Speaking of games. I’m sorry for the fans out there, but I will be so happy when football season is over. I get so tired of the facebook and twitter status updates having only to do with games and teams. So tired that I block them completely.

And speaking of blocking people on facebook, I’m considering writing a post about why I consider deleting my facebook almost daily. There are just so many reasons. Yet it serves a purpose, so I keep it going. I probably would be happier if I just went through and deleted people, but then I would have to post a cryptic message saying “oh, I’m going to go and delete people now, so if you never see a post from me again, haha! And if you do, it’s because you are so freakin’ lucky that you get to keep reading my status updates that you should bow down and give thanks to me. Also, you should re-post this for the next 5 minutes so I know that you really care about me.” Or something to that effect. And I can’t do it. So I just hide people and their annoying streams of football references, re-post this if you care about me fodder, and the dreaded pregnancy complaints (no offense to my pregnant friends, I am *so* excited and happy for you- but as someone you may not get to experience it, it’s painful to hear  complaints about it).

Last night we went to see the movie “Jack and Jill,” it was an innocent move. I mean, Adam Sandler? He’s a funny guy, can’t be that bad. Or can it? Let’s just say I don’t recommend it. Unless you enjoy extremely strange plots, cross dressing, bathroom humor and have a fixation with Al Pacino.

Well, my five minutes are up! Time to get this bad boy posted and get on with my day of painting the living room (try not to be too jealous!) Have a great Sunday, everyone!

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

I’m so excited to be featuring a post that my very own Mom wrote today! You can call her SandyB. Everyone else does. Today is the opening day of (rifle) Deer Season in Vermont. I grew up in Vermont, and in a family that embraced deer hunting as a tradition. I know that deer hunting can be controversial, but it is also full of tradition and treasured memories for many families. My family uses their own land, abides by all regulations, and eats the meat (or gets tricked into eating the meat, ahem). It is also nothing like Bambi, so don’t get all your information from Disney, mmmkay? Anyway, because I was very young when my Grandfather died, I have fewer memories of this season. I remember mostly calling into deer camp on the CB radio to say goodnight to everyone up at camp as I usually stayed with my Grandmother. My Mom, however? Has a million memories that I love to hear about. She’s here today to share some with you!

         But, I had many happy years following my father around the woods.  He tried to teach me so much about the signs in the woods, the names of all the trees, the landmarks that exist such as abandoned cellar holes, the big rock by the huge tree, the mud hole and the list goes on.  He knew every animal track and something about all the wildlife and how everything co-existed in nature.  I wasn’t a great student and would pretty much nod and smile. 

Deer season brings back all those memories and more.  Here are a few: 

·         14 days later sign out of camp “only 356 days until the next deer season.”