Recent research shows that there are 7 kinds of sex:
The 1st kind of sex is called: Smurf Sex.
This kind of sex happens when you first meet someone and you both
have sex until you are blue in the face.
The 2nd kind of sex is called: Kitchen Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a short time and
you are so horny you will have sex anywhere, even in the kitchen.
The 3rd kind of sex is called: Bedroom Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a long time. Your
sex has gotten routine and you usually have sex only in your bedroom.
The 4th kind of sex is called: Hallway Sex.
is is when you have been with your partner for too long. When you
pass each other in the hallway you both say "screw you."
The 5th kind of sex is called: Catholic Sex,
This means you get Nun in the morning, Nun in the afternoon and Nun
at night.
The 6th kind is called Courtroom Sex:
This is when you cannot stand your husband any more. He takes you to
court and screws you in front of everyone.
And last, but not least, the 7th kind of sex is called: Social
Security Sex. You get a little from time-to-time, but not enough to
live on.
TW: Abuse/SA/Language/Suicide/Death A place to put down my thoughts about my past and current place to deal with my trauma and healing.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Being A Parent
Every night I come home from work and sit down at my computer to read the news. I keep hoping for some good news, something that someone did just out of kindness or some heroic measure that someone took for another and despite the holiday season, I see nothing.
I have been following the story of two adoptive/foster parents who are being accused of child abuse for caging their children at night.
They claim that the children were a danger to themselves and to one another. They claim that this was done for their own safety. Not only did they cage the children, but they also forced one boy to sleep for eighty-one days in a bathtub because he had a bed wetting problem.
Now I have a serious issue with this. I have a child who had a bed wetting issue and here is what I did at night when she woke up cold and crying. I got up, ran a warm bath for her, changed her sheets and put on clean blankets before sweeping her out of the tub and back into bed, all the while telling her that accidents happen and she was still my angel. For almost a year this was our nightly ritual. Then, a light bulb went off and I started waking her up in the middle of the night and walking her to the bathroom. I won't say she's never had an accident since then, but they are few and far between.
Was it tiring? Yes. Was it frustrating? Hell yes. Where there times I just wanted to sleep through it? Oh yeah. But you see, this is what parenting is all about. Helping your children find a way to overcome this kinds of things, and teaching them how to deal with it if it can't be overcome.
Where the hell was the state in this case? Why did they accept more children if they couldn't handle the ones they had without putting them in cages with alarms and chicken wire? Let me tell you why, because the state needed a place to put them, and they were willing to pay.
Many people think that foster homes that do this to their charges are few and far between. Let me tell you, as I was a foster child, having lived in about fourteen different foster homes, this is the normal. I can recall being drug out of my bed before the sun came up, being given a piece of toast and shoved outside to weed the garden as a punishment for talking out of turn. I can recall having a fork poked into my elbow hard enough to draw blood because I put my elbows on the table during dinner. I can recall sitting in a corner for the three hours every Sunday that they entertained dinner after church and being pointed at and compared to a dog.
I am sure that there are some foster homes out there that love the children that come into their lives. I am sure that some of these foster parents go into it because they want to make a difference, but they are the exception, not the rule.
I am going to go up now and kiss each of my sleeping children and whisper how much I love them into their ears. Perhaps they will sleep peacefully knowing that they are loved, cherished and protected by the people they expect to do so. I am going to go up and be a parent.
I have been following the story of two adoptive/foster parents who are being accused of child abuse for caging their children at night.
They claim that the children were a danger to themselves and to one another. They claim that this was done for their own safety. Not only did they cage the children, but they also forced one boy to sleep for eighty-one days in a bathtub because he had a bed wetting problem.
Now I have a serious issue with this. I have a child who had a bed wetting issue and here is what I did at night when she woke up cold and crying. I got up, ran a warm bath for her, changed her sheets and put on clean blankets before sweeping her out of the tub and back into bed, all the while telling her that accidents happen and she was still my angel. For almost a year this was our nightly ritual. Then, a light bulb went off and I started waking her up in the middle of the night and walking her to the bathroom. I won't say she's never had an accident since then, but they are few and far between.
Was it tiring? Yes. Was it frustrating? Hell yes. Where there times I just wanted to sleep through it? Oh yeah. But you see, this is what parenting is all about. Helping your children find a way to overcome this kinds of things, and teaching them how to deal with it if it can't be overcome.
Where the hell was the state in this case? Why did they accept more children if they couldn't handle the ones they had without putting them in cages with alarms and chicken wire? Let me tell you why, because the state needed a place to put them, and they were willing to pay.
Many people think that foster homes that do this to their charges are few and far between. Let me tell you, as I was a foster child, having lived in about fourteen different foster homes, this is the normal. I can recall being drug out of my bed before the sun came up, being given a piece of toast and shoved outside to weed the garden as a punishment for talking out of turn. I can recall having a fork poked into my elbow hard enough to draw blood because I put my elbows on the table during dinner. I can recall sitting in a corner for the three hours every Sunday that they entertained dinner after church and being pointed at and compared to a dog.
I am sure that there are some foster homes out there that love the children that come into their lives. I am sure that some of these foster parents go into it because they want to make a difference, but they are the exception, not the rule.
I am going to go up now and kiss each of my sleeping children and whisper how much I love them into their ears. Perhaps they will sleep peacefully knowing that they are loved, cherished and protected by the people they expect to do so. I am going to go up and be a parent.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A Return
Wow, I must say I have been out of bloggerland far too long. As I sat down to sort myself out this morning, the first thing I did was to go through and visit all of my old haunts. Let me tell you, there were not many of them left anymore, those that are, seemed to have given up on me and removed me from their listing. The good news is that, I have returned, and I have completed an actual college course dedicated to writing, hopefully it will help me to tell my stories a little better.
I have been gone a long time because I became afraid to write here. It seemed to no longer be a safe place for me and every post seemed to take so much out of me. I make no promises that I won't need to take more time off, but I do intend to tell my story.
I had thought for a while that I would separate my sex life from my daily and past life so that eventually my children would be able to come here and read what I write. I think I may still do that, but it is something far in the future to think about.
Life has been busy here in my little corner of the world. I have completed my second semester of classes and am only one year away from getting my degree. I am still struggling with my bi-polar disorder and Chris is here, still loving me the way that he always has. I am working long hours at my job and trying to get ready for Christmas, which is going to be very small this year.
My mother is still a pain in my ass with her judgmental views of me, while firmly clinging to the blinders she uses to see my brothers. Everyday I pray that I never treat my children as unfairly has she has my brothers and me.
The children are all doing as well as can be expected. The daughter is nearing fourteen and my fear that she will step into my life is overwhelming. If we can get her to eighteen without a pregnancy we'll be doing well. Thankfully I know she isn't having sex yet, simply because her grades have kept her grounded to the house nearly all year long.
It is time to repack my bags and begin my journey yet again into the past. I hope that you will all walk beside me once again.
I have been gone a long time because I became afraid to write here. It seemed to no longer be a safe place for me and every post seemed to take so much out of me. I make no promises that I won't need to take more time off, but I do intend to tell my story.
I had thought for a while that I would separate my sex life from my daily and past life so that eventually my children would be able to come here and read what I write. I think I may still do that, but it is something far in the future to think about.
Life has been busy here in my little corner of the world. I have completed my second semester of classes and am only one year away from getting my degree. I am still struggling with my bi-polar disorder and Chris is here, still loving me the way that he always has. I am working long hours at my job and trying to get ready for Christmas, which is going to be very small this year.
My mother is still a pain in my ass with her judgmental views of me, while firmly clinging to the blinders she uses to see my brothers. Everyday I pray that I never treat my children as unfairly has she has my brothers and me.
The children are all doing as well as can be expected. The daughter is nearing fourteen and my fear that she will step into my life is overwhelming. If we can get her to eighteen without a pregnancy we'll be doing well. Thankfully I know she isn't having sex yet, simply because her grades have kept her grounded to the house nearly all year long.
It is time to repack my bags and begin my journey yet again into the past. I hope that you will all walk beside me once again.
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