Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Review: Clear Lungs Herbal Supplement

This is just a cut-and-paste is a review I left on Amazon, but I needed to share it with you! The link to the product, called “Clear Lungs” is here https://www.amazon.com/Clear-Lungs-Classic-Label-Capsules/dp/B00014CZV2: . You’re welcome. 

I'm one of those people that doctors constantly scold about over-using my Albuterol rescue inhaler. I do this because the maintenance asthma inhalers are ridiculously expensive, even on my insurance. So, though I'm typically skeptical of herbal solutions, between the effectiveness of Lysine when I feel a cold sore coming on and the strength of these reviews, I tried this.

I took it for a week and felt a little difference, but still had to use my inhaler twice a day (down from about 6 uses), first thing in the morning, and right before I went to bed. Otherwise, I was wheezing through the night. I decided to try to add back in a daily allergy pill (in this case, the CVS version of Zyrtec), which hasn't been effective as an asthma deterrent in the past. After a week, I wasn't using the inhaler on a daily basis, or even at all.

I have three cats, and I'm allergic to cats; I live in central Texas and between the "cedar" and other beautiful but pollen-rich greenery around here, every season is allergy season. But I'm able to do strenuous housework, go for a brisk walk, and even clean out the pigeon loft with the dusty straw and not require a puff to finish the task! It's amazing!

Two weeks ago, I went out of town for one night and forgot to take the pills with me. By the time I got home, it seemed too late in the day to take the pills, so I decided to wait and take them again the next morning. The following two days were BRUTAL. I sneezed, my chest seized up; it was actually WORSE than it had been before, or maybe that's what I had gotten used to? It took three days for the supplement and allergy medicine to build back up in my system, but now that I'm back on track, I'm NEVER going to miss another day again!

It's truly incredible!

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Our 6th Anniversary

Our 6th anniversary is in about a week and a half, and I only thought of it (like since our last anniversary) last night. We don't have plans; I don't remember what we did last year. I'm afraid we might be the worst at creating big celebratory traditions that our son will remember forever.

It's interesting, because I see this happen in so many facets of our lives: The way we live, "big" things can be challenging. What do we get the kids for Christmas when we pretty much get them everything they need and most of the things they want when they ask? How do we differentiate this birthday cake from the cake I made two weeks ago? How do we mark a day to celebrate our marital union when we live every day with so much love and partnership and sometimes even cool meals out?

(On a personal level, the borderline obsession I used to have with menus and novelty food is much diminished now that I feel free to eat whatever I want whenever I feel like it.)

Six years. Sometimes it seems fast, and other times it feels like we've been together (and raising a second child) FOREVER.

It's longer than my first marriage... of which I remember very little. When you don't have someone with you to share your memories, they disappear. So much of my 20s is a blur. It's weird.

It's about half as long as my second marriage. We did hit 13 years, but it was already over by then.

Much like Ross Gellar, I never wanted to be "that person." You know, the one who was divorced twice. And every time I hear people (I admire very much, usually) bemoaning how some Christians can support Trump (I'm not a fan) when, among other things, he's "twice-divorced" or on his third spouse, I'm like... welp, that's me, too. Guess I'm just a big old slimy scumbag.

That was sarcasm, actually. I know my life; I know what I've done and why I did it. It wasn't always pure and blameless.

However, while there are individual things I would be tempted to tweak if given a do-over, where I've ended up is pretty spectacular. In a quiet, comfortable way.

I'm sitting at my dining room table while Mal watched a video and D sleeps. There are two pigeons out on the flight deck of the loft, and about 4 birds (a cardinal couple, a Carolina chickadee, and a house finch) at the bird feeder in the back yard. I can see it all from here (except D). Dinner is in the oven and there's a dog barking outside. I'm vacation planning as I blog, and I'm ready for James to come home.

It's pretty great.

Granted, marriage can be challenging at times. James and I feel like ships passing in the evening/morning in ways that never happened when D was little; Mal just requires more of everything, so it can be a trick even to have a conversation, much less alone time. But there is no drama. There is no waiting for the other shoe to drop. To put it in Harry Potter terms: My scar hasn't hurt in more than six years; all is well.

Happy anniversary, baby! Here's to another year or two, minimum.

Tuesday, March 5, 2019

"Losing" Ourselves as Women

Maybe it's the new(ish) year? Maybe it's the cabin fever? Whatever, I'm noticing an extreme uptick in "inspirational" social media posts (Twitter/Instagram; that's all I'm on) about women, moms specifically, forging a path to "find" themselves amidst the business of being a parent.

This idea that becoming a parent (again, typically this is exclusively a mom thing) pulls you away from your true identity, or that it takes over so much that who you were is gone is... actually, that last one is fairly accurate. But not in a way that requires re-calibration.

Most of the women I know personally who post things like this are people I know to love their children immensely. These are women who thoughtfully pursue ways to connect with their children and expand their lives. They might work outside of the home, or they might be at-home parents... but they all value motherhood and their children's well-being as paramount.

So why do we feel "lost"? Why do we feel the need to take concrete steps to "self-care"? Why do we feel that, in order to connect with our truest selves, we necessarily must separate from our children?

Don't get me wrong: My second child is A LOT (my first child is a lot, too - most kids are - just in a less hands-on way). I am tired A LOT. I put my hands over my fact A LOT. EVERY DAY. I shoot James "the look" about a dozen times a night, as if to say, "See? This is my life. This is the entire ten hours you are gone. This is what I do. This is what I handle."

So I get the fatigue. I get the need for a breather. I usually take showers in the morning when Mal is asleep, just after James has left for work. I took a shower last night, though, after James got home from work, because I needed like four minutes where I wasn't trying to filter out a loudly-babbling preschooler or becoming dizzy and stressed from his constant whirlwind of movement and potential injuries.

But do I feel like, in the business of caring for him or my teenager, that I am somehow "losing myself"? Do I feel that, in not having huge swaths of child-free time, I am unable to connect with who I truly am? NO.

Because, even though I like to write, and I love making videos, and I wish like crazy that I could sing, and I enjoy spending a lot more time and effort on baking than I can right now, and none of those is available for me to do in any capacity as much as I'd like, the fact is what everything I do, everything that occupies any given moment of my day, IS, necessarily, part and parcel to who I am.

And being a mom is not a compartment within my identity, something to be shoved aside as somehow "less" than the sum of my parts. I AM a mom. Even if I take a cooking class, it's not bringing me closer to who I truly am, apart from being a parent. I'm still a parent. I am, and it's not a thing that is in competition with other hobbies or passions I have for the soul of my truest self.

It IS my truest self.

I am often tired and cranky and hungry and not doing what I'd rather be doing (which is likely pushing my kid on a swing instead of sitting on my butt, my truest passion). But in those moments of "sacrificing" my own preferences to do what needs to be done, I am definitely my best and most honorable self.

When I hear people urge women (why don't they urge men? That's a whole other conversation) to make time for "self care," or I hear "You can't pour from an empty cup," I feel like we, as moms, are acting an awful lot like martyrs. Like we're doing this thing that is so draining that we have earned a "clock out" to pursue something that's not as mundane.

And I feel for the special needs moms, who might never have the luxury. And for the moms grieving lost children who would give up every outside interest they have to have their child back. And for moms who have to work two jobs, and feel guilty that they have so little left over for their kids at the end (or beginning) of the day.

I don't know.

On social media, a take is that your kids will thrive, seeing you pursue something you love, as an actual whole person. But I wonder what that says to them. I mean, you're still their mom. You can't separate from that. They can't separate that from the other stuff you do, and you wouldn't want them to.

When I was younger, my mom was in a local singing group. They practiced once a week or every other week or something. I don't think she ever thought, "I've lost myself as a mom and teacher; I owe it to all of these kids to take time for self-care." I think she just liked singing, and it was something our family was able to swing.

That might not sound different, but, to me, the semantics are important here.

Do what you like. Make time for things you care about. But maybe stop holding it up in contrast to your being a mom? Why can't we be moms who like having dinner with our girlfriends? Or moms who make YouTube videos? Or moms who climb rock faces?

Why is it insulting to be "Mom"? Why do women want to be known for "more"? If it's a sexist thing, then society needs to work on valuing moms more; in the meantime, we need to find a way to get over that, and honor ALL of ourselves.