#homeschoolingrealshit – Quillan Kelly-Dunn

#freedom, #homeschoolingrealshit, #teens, American, Anxiety, Autism, Find A Way, Health & Wellness, migraine relief, parenting struggles, prettyinpink, Women's Fight

Pretty Pink Poison

May 17, 2024January 16, 2025 quillankellydunn

Since I’ve been gluten & dairy free for 20 years, my binging on candy and baked goods has been a lot more challenging.

This is a good thing of course.

I found out about celiac disease, the gluten allergy, before most heard of it, in 2004. People would look at me like I was nuts when I told them.

It wasn’t that big of a deal at first because I still had the option to binge on dairy products like ice cream, gluten-free pizza, Frappuccinos, cheese, & yogurt.

Then I kept getting these scorching sinus infections & migraines, so I went to the doctor. She suggested I try no dairy for a while because it’s mucus producing. Dairy is also a huge trigger for migraines.

Unfortunately, that was the solution. I felt fantastic physically, however, mentally not so good..

I went into a deep depression induced by cheese-withdrawal.

(I still have reoccurring dairy-free-depressive episodes, intermittently triggered by not being able to eat pizza or a grilled cheese etc.)

Dairy-free cheese has not been able to cut it…Cut the real cheese. 😔

Dairy, soy and gluten/wheat is in almost everything, especially most delicious candy bars and chocolate.

Since then, my occasional go-to favorite candy is pink starburst.

I savagely rip through my kids Halloween candy each year.

*Never realized that Andy’s dress resembles a PINK STARBURST* 🤩 *She looks delicious*

I’m usually irritable the next day if I eat a lot of sugar. Sugar hangovers are real. I do my best to limit it. However some days I cave if I’m really tired.

Anyways, my son bought me a huge bag of all pink starburst. It was a sweet gesture, yet I was furious with him.

“Don’t bring that shit in the house, you know I can’t control myself!“

I say this to him as I am shoving pink starburst into my mouth & frantically unwrapping more.

The binge began…

The scrumptious starburst were gone in about eight days.. Everybody in my house had some, but I consumed the most. I was pushing them onto my family like a crack dealer.

I was so crabby each morning.

I was in a steady, simmering rage for four days, irate, snapping at everyone, & ready to pounce.

Whenever I would have these episodes in the past, I would chalk it up to my period.

However, I had a hysterectomy in November 2023.

Can’t use my period as an excuse anymore. ….(next post will be about the correlation between diet, menopause & hormones).

I felt like I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus and I was so agitated.

If I am a 49-year old woman experiencing this type of chemically-induced rage, what do you think would happen to a toddler/child/teen if they consumed these products.

I used to think red 40 and behavioral problems was a bunch of baloney. I am humbled to admit that I believe the chemicals, artificial colors, flavors & Red#40 in our food is poison.

It may not be the instant, fatal poison. ☠️ However, it is clear in how the body reacts to these ingredients.

There are tons of tik toks, articles, & posts about the correlation of diet, red #40 & behavioral problems in kids/teens.

There is also concrete, scientific evidence that this is true here and article at the end.

This guy below is a doctor (@docamen) and boldly posted this, so there must be some truth to it:

Garbage in, Garbage out.

Terrible chemicals in our food combined with overstimulation from electronic devices sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Where do you think these episodes cause the most issues?

At school, where you need to focus, sit still and be receptive to learning.

Sitting still in a desk for hours is already difficult, why add anything to make it worse?

Maybe after kids consume starburst, skittles, nerds, twizzlers, fruit snacks, cheetos, doritos, pop-tarts, gatorade, sour patch kids, gummy bears, fruit roll ups, pudding snack packs, jello, powerade, high-C, juice etc, at breakfast or lunch-you may see behavior like this:

I am communicating this because I clearly overdosed on red 40. As an adult, who forgets sometimes and eats this crap; it’s obvious some people are very sensitive to this FDA permitted junk.

The FDA to consumers:

A friend of mine, a teacher of kindergarten, sent me this text after my last post.

Another teacher friend replied:

*We can’t keep dumping this on*
*teachers & schools.*

I won’t bore you with the details and the conspiracy theories. Instead, wondering if collectively, we ALL could stop purchasing products with red 40. Hopefully companies will stop making it the poisonous way.

Or perhaps, it can be banned like it is in Europe & other countries.

It’s all really confusing:

These products are fast and cheap but there is no food in your food.

Looking at the ingredients in products before you purchase them is frustrating and time consuming, however, if it prevents us and our kids/teens from behaving like assholes, isn’t it worth it?

Something quick now is slowly poisoning ourselves over time.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5To1VsgHKq/?igsh=MTkybDRnY3B0ODByMA==

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2214750023000926

ADDENDUM 1.15.25 Yay

https://youtu.be/vDsWU1qV_0k

#Beyourself, #freedom, #homeschoolingrealshit, #teens, Badassery, coming of age, john hughes, parenting struggles, scoliosis, sixteen candles, Women's Fight

GEEK GIRL #1

July 6, 2023July 6, 2023 quillankellydunn

I found myself bending over, while someone dragged their fingers down my spine. I slowly walked back to the class wearing my plaid skirt, round collar blouse and unfortunate weskit (vest) and forgot about it.

I didn’t think about this random, bending-over screening again until I read the book Deenie by Judy Blume.

I was so confused by Deenie’s choice to hack off her hair because she was so angry about having to wear the brace.

I remember thinking “What’s the big deal about the brace? She only has to wear it for a few years. It’s not her fault. “

Then I saw Sixteen Candles…

I laughed just like everyone else did at “Geek Girl #1” played brilliantly by Joan Cusack. GG1 is a more memorable character, yet she doesn’t even have a name.

At least THE GEEK, the OG of geeks, receives an additional title aka Farmer Ted.

I always found the parts with GG1 hilarious, until July of 2020, when I observed my daughters spine X-Ray.

Reels of Geek Girl #1 played repeatedly in my head.

To make matters worse, the doctor (recommended by the pediatrician) never came in to speak with us. Instead I had find out from this nervous, pipsqueak physicians assistant. His beady, little eyes were peering over his mask. All I heard was custom brace, follow up every six months.

The nurse, not the doctor, calls to advise me “The doctor said that your daughter has to wear the brace 23 hours a day.”

Me: So you want ME to get my 12 year old preteen daughter who cannot tolerate a TAG touching her body to wear a brace for twenty-three hours a day?!

Nurse: Yes. Okay then. Good luck. Call with questions…Buh bye now.

Now all of your inner-parental-bullshit-meters, may be saying, “get a new doctor”. It was clear she had to wear a brace, I already got the order. Yada yada yada…I had bigger issues at hand.

I had one kid starting high school, one starting 8th grade and the giant task of getting my daughter to wear the brace…

Let the battles begin.

Since she was supposed to wear the brace 23 hours a day, we were pretty much fighting all day long. She adamantly refused to wear it during school. Her argument: she already has braces to maintain, she has to wear a mask all day at school & she would have to remove the back brace to go to the bathroom and have someone help her put it back on. This is all during the peak of covid. I surrendered on that one.

Finally we were able to get her to wear it while sleeping.

She was miserable and angry. We attempted to have her go to counseling to process her emotions about scoliosis, she refused to talk. We attempted to have her go to physical therapy, called the Schroth Method for Scoliosis. When she had an appointment in the evening, she was a beast the entire day.

Her amount of tenacity was baffling.

My daughter was told at PT that “even if you wear the brace 23 hours a day, we cannot promise that you won’t have to have surgery.” After this, my daughter begged to have the surgery every minute of every day that she was awake. I would leave the house as much as possible, but not many places to go during quarantine.

July of 2020-July of 2022 the brace war continued. She grew five inches and her hip and shoulder shift was becoming visible, so we had to get a new brace. I finally met the doctor. He saunters in the office with his lab coat and I’m not kidding, wearing khakis with hardcore, Roadhouse cowboy boots.

At this moment, I was glad for the mask that hid my disgust at his arrogance. Cowboy boots in Chicago seemed so unprofessional and downright odd. He then tells us in a condescending manner that “since she only wore the brace while sleeping, she can throw the brace away because she needs surgery.” This was the final straw.

I was was ready for the surgery but no way in hell was I gonna let this drugstore cowboy touch my daughter. I delegated the “battle of the brace” to Dad to find a new doctor.

My daughter loves to tell tales of her father during this time… When her Dad “went full on Karen.”

Introducing the male version of Karen:

Maciej (pronounced Ma-Chea)

Well… after “shooting many messengers” debating with many doctors & pulling my daughter out of school countless days for appointments; Dad found a winner.

When it comes to your kids spine… “Going Maciej” is the only way to go, he got it done effectively & efficiently. No mercy.

Our daughter had the surgery May 30th, 2023 at Ann & Robert H. Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago. It was a success!

Overall, her new doctor, Dr. John Grayhack, was extremely smart, confident, sweet, funny & absolutely wonderful throughout this entire process.

Our daughter received exceptional nursing care, PT/OT and pain management/muscle relaxers.

She discharged on June 2nd. She had a rough three weeks at home with pain, not wanting to eat, medication withdrawal and exhaustion. She was instructed to walk twice a day and her body would adjust its own alignment. She was wiped after walks.

I told her pediatrician about the big dumb bohunk she referred me to and she deleted him from her system. She now refers to our doctor.

Follow up on July 10th with full release to normal activities. Just in time for her 16th birthday in August.

Sorry Jake Ryan, it is more important for her to love who she sees in the mirror.

P.S. I know some cool, fun, laid back Karen’s. Unfortunately your name is just an adjective for effect. Nothing personal.

#brenebrown, #doitanyway, #freedom, #greatpretender, #homeschoolingrealshit, #millenials, #opportunity, #sidehustle, Badassery, brene brown, glennondoyle, Health & Wellness, Lin Manuel Miranda, narcissism, narcisstic personality disorder, parenting struggles, relationships, unlockingus, vulnerability, Women's Fight, Yoga Pants

Sympathy For The Devil

November 23, 2020January 16, 2025 quillankellydunn

I may not KNOW a lot of things but one thing I do believe for sure is that BOB (Esai Morales) from La Bamba is one BADASS mother fucker. He has to be THEE coolest and most captivating actor on the planet.

He should have won an OSCAR for best supporting actor for his performance; (Esai Morales) truly MADE the movie.

He literally SEDUCES the audience.

That being said, what I find most ironic is that no matter what he did or said, I still liked his character. I thought he was hilarious, I still do. What is even more puzzling, is that he is a complete dick.

(Side note: Esai also appeared on Ozark for a season or two- I was immediately entranced. )

As a woman, I completely identify with Rosie. As a mother and wife, I empathize with how she feels; I hate how she is treated by Bob. What was also puzzling is that she ANNOYED me. 🙈

I can actually feel her pain, grief, & confusion. You can see it written on her face. The “wait…wtf-just-happened?” face. The “how-in-the-hell-did-I-end-up-here” face. She displays this facial expression the majority of the movie. We all know that face.

We all know that feeling: When you realize you’ve been had. You got screwed over. The worst part about it, the majority of it was your own doing. You assumed. ASS-U-ME.

I get how she assumed as well. Any woman in a could easily fall into Bob’s trap; especially the married ones. Bob’s seductive allure could have wise woman entranced in his spell: After Bob flirts with you: Huh? What kids? What husband? You don’t have a job you say? Ballsy. Hot…You drink every day? Wild & crazy. You live in your mom’s trailer? Sounds cozy. Humina Humina 😍🥰😛

I am embarrassed to admit this, but I remember thinking: Awwww just leave him alone Rosie.. it’s your own fault you got yo self knocked up…

I STILL liked him after that horrible, disrespectful and honest statement by Bob. Like “Dayyyuuumm.” Why?

I am an educated & wise woman, yet I still like Bob. Wtf!? How come? 1. Clearly excellent acting by Esai Morales 2. Amazing directing

However, I am not satisfied with this. Inquiring minds want to know!!!

I was concerned with my reaction when I watching this movie recently. When the mother, Connie Valenzuela, minimized Bob’s cartoonist abilities and reminded him that he is about to become a father, I thought: Jeez Connie, buzzkill, what did you have to go and do that for!? Why don’t you get out of Richie’s ass and pay attention to poor Bob. He is trying. POOR BOB

Poor Bob: your womanizing, chauvinistic, selfish, entitled, immature, unemployed, alcoholic, manipulative, man-baby-son who just was released from prison.🤔 (Bob sounds like a real catch on paper doesn’t he?🤥😂)

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece.Proverbs 16

From a biological & genetic standpoint, Bob does what Bob does best. Bob is a an alpha male who is genetically predisposed to flock his sexy shit to attract females. Bob does whatever possible to get laid; ultimately procreating more human beings to populate the earth. (Biology 101: It is vital for males to compete for reproduction and for females to choose between those competing males.

If a member of the opposite sex finds your tail, your song, or your dance moves sexy, you will have a chance to fulfill your primary biological role as a member of your species: to reproduce.
https://biogeoplanet.com/how-do-animals-find-mates-sex-and-sexual-selection/

This is “Bob’s” “primary biological role” aka his job and he rocks it. He got Rosie pregnant so now he needs to “move on” and to do this again.

It’s not his fault…yet. (Please don’t get angry, hear me out;)

From a biological/genetic standpoint, Bob is doing his job. He behaves how all male animals act. Bob is genetically predisposed to be what humans would consider “an asshole”.

The problem is, he also doesn’t know any better. No one has taught him otherwise. No one has had the chance to teach Bob to step above his biological urges.

Please don’t cause him to feel inadequate by making him have to THINK.

Don’t make him feel like a failure by asking him to have COMPASSION or EMPATHY? That is NO FUN.

What would cause a human being to behave this way? Or to treat women this way?

Bob’s True Story & my psychological interpretation😜:

Just like Rosie, Connie also hooked up with a bad boy at a young age and got herself impregnated. The hot, sexy biological father took off.

I know you “love him” Rosie, but unless you want to cook dinner on his motorcycle…

Connie then met someone else (Steve) and Connie married Steve when Bob was two years old. Steve loved Bob and treated him as his own. Steve and Connie then had a child together, Ritchie. Ritchie was a reflection to Connie what she did right=Ritchie=golden boy. However, Bob was a reminder of her bad decisions.

Connie, Steve, Bob & Ritchie were doing well together for a while. Bob assumed Steve was his biological father and Bob loved him.

In an interview, the real Bob Morales states his life took a bad turn when he was 14 and his parents (Connie & Steve) separated.

“I moved in with my mom while Ritchie went with my dad. One day I told my mom that I wanted to live with my dad and and that’s when my aunt told me ‘Why do you want to go with him if he’s not even your real father.’Bob Morales

Despite Steve conveying to Bob that he loved him as his own son, the shock devastated Bob. Also, it was horrible timing for Bob to find this out because soon after this discovery, Bob began high school.

Bob was getting into fights frequently so he stopped attending. Instead he gave money to the homeless nearby who would buy him alcohol.

While his now single-mom was working two jobs, Bob was not going to school and had no structure all day, no guidance, no direction=idle time which is the DEVIL’s playground.

Therefore, Bob ended up going to a detention center from age 12-17! Connie, his mother, signed him over as a ward of the state. He did not see his family that entire time he was locked up.

👆🏻Bob’s inner child translation: Go Fuck yourself Connie. I will never let a woman hurt me again.

The first time Bob saw his mother or Ritchie in years; was the day of Steve’s funeral. Which also means he didn’t get to say goodbye to Steve or to grieve properly.

Bob learned to adapt to his lonely life by becoming the life of the party. He learned how to get what he needed by finding comfort in women and selfishly move on. This probably soothed his resentment toward his mother for while, but then he felt guilty; so he drank the pain away.

Of course he was jealous of Ritchie. Ritchie got his Dad and his Mom. He got nobody.

The point is that all of US are capable of evil depending on what we are exposed to.

I thought of this blog when I was about to bitch at my son for not cleaning up the mess he made after making quesadillas. I realized that I can’t assume he knows how. I’m not going to shame him like Connie. (Wtf is wrong with you? Think like a woman) Instead, I showed him how clean it up. I EDUCATED him on what I want. I told him that this is what I expect. I didn’t talk to him like he was stupid. I thanked him for making his own food. I didn’t clean it up for him. This is the only way they learn.

Mothers: We cannot assume that our sons are just going to know how to treat women when they’re older. We cannot assume that their Dad’s are going to teach them either. Most Dads are working their ass off and are never home. (Probably chasing tail 😂 not knowing why. Kidding!🤪)

We have to teach OUR SONS what WE want from them so they can learn how to GIVE this to their future partners. We need to teach them about affection, connection, friendship, compatibility, respect, and the long term.

We have to teach them that this may be a biological urge to continue to chase women and populate the world, HOWEVER, we are not animals. Reality: kids are expensive AF.

It costs a lot of time, money, energy to raise a human child properly into a respectable adult.

We need to teach them that human females can be hot and smart. Women can be attractive, fun, brilliant, and confident. We have to teach them, not ASSUME, that a Human FEMALE’S purpose is not only to populate the world.

It’s Biology Rosie- I’m kidding!
You can have both!

We also have to teach our daughters: What they tolerate will become their future. Being a victim will not get you anywhere.

It’s OUR job to ALSO teach the FUTURE MEN of this world these skills. We need to teach them how to love unconditionally. Parents need to be a TEAM.

There is a chapter in this book on how we “go easy” on our sons because we don’t think they can manage it all and are tougher on our daughters 🙈

https://markmanson.net/love

https://markmanson.net/compatibility-and-chemistry

#markmanson

#ericthomas

#glennondoyle

#doitanyway, #freedom, #homeschoolingrealshit, Find A Way, parenting struggles

District 2020

August 28, 2020October 6, 2020 quillankellydunn

We had a 13th birthday party for my daughter last week; decided to make it an 8th grade kick off as well. This means we invited the whole class, all genders, hoping the class would possibly get along…together. (This class has not worked since day one.) We also rented a dunk tank assuming this should be a hit; and perhaps they would forget they can’t stand each other😂.

My daughter kept warning me about the boys, she said “Mom, they have no consideration for anyone but themselves.” (Probably repeating what she had heard year after year from the teachers.)

I was getting the yard (arena) ready the night before. I ripped a piece of shipping tape off the side of the pool (kids tried to ghetto-ly hang some rope lights next to the filter. 😂) Suddenly, I feel a sharp, shooting, burning pain on side of my head. I thought for a second I electrocuted myself. Then I see a wasp flying around. I look under pool edge and there is a giant a yellow jacket nest.

I considered spraying it and removing it myself. However, when I googled what to use, it strongly advised not to do this alone. Then found some websites for bee removal services and “Swarm removal.” 😬 (Usually, I would ignorantly underestimate the situation and fearlessly proceed. Then I had a momentary flashback of THE HUNGER GAMES’ tracker jacker scene and….it is 2020.

The hive has probably been there all summer. Adults & kids have been here swimming almost daily; no one saw it or got stung. I email some of these services, receive some prices and then they explain this is a 3 step process that needs to start at dusk .

The party begins in 14 hours, there won’t be time for someone to do all these steps. I hope, pray and assume no one will see the hive. I am then distracted by a past winner, “Haymitch” who graciously drops off a cooler of Gatorade and cookies.

12pm: I notice on my phone the temperature outside is a perfect 84 degrees; I look out the window, not a cloud in the sky. The most perfect day. Despite the temperature on my smart phone, stepping outside is a different story. As I slowly slide the door open, I am hit with a humidity blast that feels like 110 blazing degrees.

I am pouring with sweat setting up the bean bag boxes and volleyball net. I stop to wipe the sweat from my brow that is stinging my eyes. As a stand still, I feel the sun searing through my sun-screened, pale af, freckled, perimenopausal skin.

12:30pm: Most of the “tributes” have arrived. The girls remain on the deck, staring wide-eyed at the boys who are violently shoving each other into the pool and holding each other underwater. The floats are mangled and destroyed within seconds. The girls remain shocked & terrified; unsure if they should enter the pool or get blistered in the sun.

1pm: The dunk tank has been delivered. As I am pulling our hoses to fill the tank, I hear “It’s a Yellowjacket!” “Omg there’s a yellow jacket nest!” “Awesome!!!”

To my horror, all the boys are now surrounding the backside of the pool armed with bean bags, a ball, whiffle bats, and a broom (where the hell did he even find that?) Immediately, I demand they drop their weapons and step away from the hive.

“You guys are going to get stung!“ I exclaim. The boys playfully reply, “No we won’t!” Or “We don’t care!” I try another tactic: “Would you care if I record you and send to your parents?” Most freeze and give that you-wouldn’t-dare-look. I glare back at them👇🏻.

All except one take the bait and retreat. The last is still laughing maniacally as he is shoving the broomstick into the heart of the tracker jackers lair. I remove the broom from the boy, he mopes away with his head down, temporarily defeated.

1:30pm: I witness the girls still standing on the deck with their mouths hanging open. I gently encourage the girls to go in the pool while boys are out. Thankfully, “Peeta” shows up with lunch!

While kids are eating, I hide the “weapons” in the basement. Then I hear a loud, thumping sound. I run outside and see a heckling boy sitting on the dunk tank seat. The boys have already begun throwing balls at the dunk tank target. The Problem is there is only one inch of water in it. I envision a Tom & Jerry episode (pic below).

Before I plummet into debt from a kid requiring extensive dental work or sustaining an injury in the empty tank; I completely over-react with a loud, shrilling, scream. Everyone looks at me, stunned. *Side note: My reaction is amplified due to the dunk tank manual boldly stating SEVERE injury should occur if dunk tank is not full or “damage to the tank will result in responsible parties assuming cost of repair.”😱🙈

👆🏻Me: Visualizing myself having to listen to my husband’s lecture about adulting and “dunk tank repair” is not being financially responsible. 😜

2pm: I regained composure and tell the kids how high the water needs to be in the tank before they can use it. I assured them I have three hoses going and it should be full in 20 minutes. This answer pacified them and the boys retreat back into the pool, while sporadically antagonizing the bees. I notice The grass around the pool is flooded (Tick Tock Tidal Wave).

2:14pm “Someone’s been stung!” I hear repeatedly by numerous girls. (Tick Tock Tracker Jackers)

As I am searching for a sting antidote in my closet, I remember something important from my kids toddler years.. At every playdate, it was chaos the first two hours; then magically the kids started to get along. The kids had to get used to and adjust to having another kid around. Epiphany: That is what is happening now! The two hour mark is in 15 minutes!

Stung tribute…Don’t say I didn’t warn ya kid.

I walk down the stairs and find the entire floor from the back door to the front is soping wet. I am blindsided with a smell of stove gas & wet dog combined with sewage. My daughter is shaking her head at me. I ask her, “For the love of God, what is that smell?” (Tick Tock: Poisonous gas) My daughters glares at me with contempt, that “mom-you’re-so-dumb” look.

“Mom! I told you this would happen! All the boys smashed into the bathroom and locked the door so we couldn’t use it! They don’t wear deodorant! Then one of them took a big dump!” My daughter exclaims.

For once, the Covid mask comes in handy as I cover my nose & mouth. I locked the front & garage door to prevent numerous, wet entries and dried the floor. I tell my daughter, “They are boys, they never hung out with you guys yet. They just need boundaries and limits; it will be okay. If not, they are leaving in 2 hours and we won’t have to do this again.”

“Two more hours of this!? UGH!” She exclaims and stomps away.

2:30pm Some of other boys have now realized that there are girls present. “Effie” shows up to help me (hallefuckinglujah!). We gather them all together to take a group picture. Immediately following the flash, the boys simultaneously charge at the girls, pushing them into the pool. The girls nervously laugh and Effie and I shrug in unison; “At least they are all in the pool together.”

The dunk tank is full. The girls huddle and watch the boys heckle, whips balls at the bullseye and dunk each other. This contained, organized activity has seemed to spark the interest of all parties. The boys surprisingly organize themselves into a line and take turns throwing and being dunked. I overhear one of the more advanced thinkers of the group (who has sisters 😂), “Aren’t we going to let the girls have a turn?”

With two other moms present to supervise, I take this opportunity to escape. I had some lunch, cooled down in the AC and changed my clothes. The fear-induced “hallucinations” begin to subside and I have an epiphany.

My yard is the “arena” and the arena in a CLOCK! Just like in Catching Fire! It’s just a GAME! Stop giving a fuck and just play the game!!!

3pm: I look outside at the “arena”. I see “Effie” & “Peeta” sitting on lounge chairs with their feet up. To my surprise, some of the kids are either playing bean bags together or making a whirlpool. What…the…

Toddler to Teen mindset: Every “play date” takes two hours for the kids to get along.
That’s just the way it is.

Haymitch shows up holding a 6-pack and provides some useful advice. We enjoy some cold, adult beverages as a team. We effin did it! It WORKED! We won!

I have a sip of the “adult elixir” and experience another revelation… “They are just kids! They are supposed to be assholes! It’s our job to teach them to not be! They do not know how to play the game yet! We have to teach them how to play!”

Peeta organized the bean bag tournament. The kids all sat TOGETHER and watched each other play. I couldn’t believe it. Haymitch periodically would make the kids stop and take cleaning breaks. They listened. It was an effin miracle! (A 2020 miracle …pssshhh. No way.)

The four of us are sitting around talking and laughing. Parents are starting to show up to pick up their kids; grateful for the long break from their kids after a five month quarantine.

My daughter whispers in my ear, “Can you text all the parents now before anyone else comes so everyone can stay later?”

“What!? I thought you couldn’t wait until this was over? Remember you were frustrated there was two hours left?” Stay later?!? She’s hallucinating; musta been stung by a tracker jacker. I still almost fall out of my seat.

Daughter: “Well that was before. It’s been SO fun. I never want it to end. Everyone wants to stay.”

“They do?”

“Yep. And…You. were. right. Mom.”

👆🏻HO.LEE.SHIT. Was not expecting that👆🏻Me, Mom…was…right?. Tears of joy welled in my eyes.

I really did win!

😂 #winningmommoment

#freedom, #homeschoolingrealshit, coming of age, Malcolm Gladwell, Mental Health, Talking with Strangers

Southside BLASPHEMY

April 21, 2020January 16, 2025 quillankellydunn

This book was a tough read…
.
Took me a long time to get through it…
.
When I say this, it is because unlike Malcolm Gladwell’s @malcolmgladwell other books, this one touched on extremely emotional topics.
.
I didn’t get it at first, as usual (I’m slow) or perhaps it’s the haze of cognitive dissonance…

I didn’t like it at first is because it made me feel things I didn’t want to feel.
…
.

It made me think about topics I avoid…

…
It made me uncomfortable.
…
It made me nauseous…at times.
…
Then something clicked and I got it.
…
@malcolmgladwell pulls at your heartstrings with true stories, cases, that are controversial and breaks them down…
…
He discusses what WE can do to communicate better with people we do not know.
…
He reveals how some people “may not act the way WE think they should act”.

I will lightly touch on some of the topics in this book that I feel compelled to weigh in on so if you want to KNOW NOTHING about the book and read the book yourself: please stop reading here.

****Spoiler alert****
…
An intriguing example is when Gladwell explains the Amanda Knox case and what could have been done differently.
…
Malcolm clarifies that the whole ordeal Amanda was sucked into was because the Italian police didn’t think she “acted” the way she should be acting when her roommate was murdered.
…
Amanda didn’t “show emotion” or “communicate how she should.”
…
It’s seems like it should be such a clear concept, except we all know it is not. We all judge people on their behavior, their words, their actions. We judge because someone is not “behaving” the way we would.
…
On the opposite spectrum of innocence, Gladwell breaks down the Penn State/Sandusky scandal. (This is where I struggled the most with getting through this book.) Sandusky went years untouched and undetected because “he doesn’t act like a child molester” or “his victims don’t act like they were abused”. Sandusky was adored by all. Sandusky was a god on that campus.

Gladwell brings up many other controversial and historical topics such as Hitler, Sylvia Plath, and Gingis Khan.

Therefore, Gladwell solidifies his point that: The human race overall, sucks at talking with strangers.

Transparency is the idea that people’s behavior and demeanor—the way they represent themselves on the outside—provides an authentic and reliable window into the way they feel on the inside.
Malcolm Gladwell: Talking to Strangers
Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know about the People We Don’t Know https://www.amazon.com/dp/0316478520/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_9eWNEbRW7CFK5

Here’s the Southside Blasphemy:

BUZZKILL

But what does mean? What does “responsibly” mean? Is it like that vague moderation bullshit?

Gladwell painfully examines binge drinking and college sexual assaults. He breaks down the culture of socially-acceptable-yet-dangerous-binge-drinking and how this scientifically affects the human brain.
…
Gladwell goes into detail about black outs; the lack of communication between people while intoxicated and how so many assumptions are made. He brings to light how serious incidents are minimized and the misconception of society’s view of alcohol abuse.

…
Gladwell deliberates how men are called weak and berated if they don’t keep drinking, slam shots or chug beer bongs. He states how women are glorified if they can “drink a guy under the table” and how women are judged by “how cool they are” based on how much alcohol she can consume.

…
Then he dissertates the differences between men and women’s genetic make-up, how they metabolize alcohol differently and what happens biologically to the body and mind.

EYE OPENING.

I listened to this chapter with with different ears. As a parent, you have no choice but to imagine your kids in one of these situations.

I never considered teaching my daughter “how” to drink (not sure I am qualified either 😜maybe I need another adult to do that for me;).

I never thought of teaching my son exactly how to “be respectful of women”, knowing how to ask for permission and when no means no.

However, if you are on the fence, here’s some tasty vodka to assist you loosen up to say YES! (Mixed messages)🤨

I just assumed that my kids would make good decisions based on how we raised them. However, Gladwell discusses how alcohol, the impact of society & social media erases all of that.

Example: “Don’t do what I do. Do what I tell ya.” Didn’t even fly with me in the 70’s/80’s.

The impact alcohol has on sexual assault:

This part in the audiobook was exceptionally painful; listening to a real court case of a sexual assault between two freshman at a college campus. Listening to testimony of a 19 year old MALE who “assumed” the girl he making out with was “okay with everything” because “she didn’t say anything.”

In reality, she was in a black out; unconscious.

In the testimony, the 19 year old guy speculates what happens; then when asked directly, he admits he truly doesn’t remember the situation either.

Yet here he is, in court after making some bad decisions he doesn’t remember while intoxicated as a freshman in college: now facing a jail sentence, expulsion, felony charges and a 15-year listing on the sex offender registry.

I couldn’t help but have empathy for the female but also for the guy; he was just a kid who is 5 years older than my own son. He was clueless, naive, and he ASS-umed.

I could actually see myself and our friends laughing about a situation like this – (hooking up with someone in a black out-where neither party remember or know each other’s names) in college or even last year. However, when it is your child, it is a whole different deal.

…This chapter lead to one of many future discussions with my kids about alcohol use and how we all, as parents, have to educate our kids on safe drinking. I can say I “don’t want my kids using alcohol” however I know they will. So atleast as parents, we need to specifically educate them exactly how to “drink responsibly.” Brevity is key.

“Drink responsibly” is the message that is repeated, but what does that mean? I had to figure that out for myself and it took 30 years! I still drink too fast.

Therefore, if we know this, we need to offer our kids some guidance on HOW to drink responsibly.

However there are so many societal mixed messages. The ambivalence is similar to Frank the tanks “I have a lot to do tomorrow, but it tastes so good as it touches your lips.”

D.A.R.E. Is a great idea but it is not realistic.

D.A.R.E. Motto =just say NO. Reality: what happens when you tell most humans NO?

I’ve had kids tells me that D.A.R.E just made them more curious.

Most drugs are illegal so maybe just say NO works sometimes, perhaps for those who are rule followers.

Society Mixed messages: Alcohol is legal so how can we teach them the same concept? How about teach them “I’ll have, SOME, but I won’t wreck myself”. I will learn how much and what “moderation” means. Explain to them what does drink responsibly mean.

Like one alcoholic drink an hour?

Drink water in between alcoholic beverages?

In educating kids and teens, you cannot always say a specific number of drinks or beers because everyone metabolizes alcohol differently. Teaching them to pay attention to how they feel.

We also have to educate them on the social impact their “being responsible” might result in.

Transparent Translation: their friends and peers might give them a lot of shit for turning down shots or not slamming beer after beer.

We have to educate them that how much they can drink has nothing to do with “coolness.”

Slamming drinks every 10 minutes, Obviating yourself, Doing super shit and being sloppy isn’t cool either

Peer pressure is real, even after you have kids and are an “adult.”😂

Example: I was at a party last year and another parent offered me a drink. I turned it down because it was already 1am and I had to get up for my kids games at 9am. He smirked and replied “You used to be fun.”

My inner—insecure-socially-awkward-teenager-self-emerged and immediately wanted to grab a beer bong like Frank the tank and “show him!”

Adult peer pressure is real.😂

As a 40-something adult, I STILL had to remind myself he is kidding, he really doesn’t care if I drink or not and he honestly won’t even remember saying that to me the next day.

We all like to belong. We all want to be perceived as fun (Fun Bobby) https://youtu.be/3nJ_l5qMrdw

No one wants to feel “not fun” (turns out fun Bobby is not so fun anymore) https://youtu.be/Y9qR3y_oLXM

However, we all need to have these uncomfortable feelings and transparent conversations. 2020 Kids are fucking smart. They find loopholes.

#brenebrown, #greatpretender, #homeschoolingrealshit, #opportunity, #sidehustle, Find A Way, parenting struggles, Uncategorized, Women's Fight, Yoga Pants

My Brain Is Oatmeal

March 28, 2018July 7, 2020 quillankellydunn

I was home (in between jobs 😜)from January 12th-March 6th. Sounds awesome right? However about after a month and not having money (because not working kinda limits all the “fun things” and “projects” you want to do while off.)

I have found it doesn’t take much to throw off your momentum and routine. I believe sick kids is literally the #1 routine- sabotager for moms. Somehow shit is everywhere, you are trapped at home and eventually you have to give in at some point.

Just throw in the towel and watch movies with your sick child who requires hourly snacks and drinks. (Ironically they never eat this much when they are well.) Then of course, mom succumbs to the illness, further jacking up the routine for another week or two.

Then the “getting back on track” phase begins, where you want to jump back into action, however you have mountains of crap to catch up on and clean because the sick child’s stuff is all over. Finally after about three days, you are ready to get back to your “routine”.

My “routine”…After I get the kids to school and calm down from the morning rage of screaming at each other to get going; I do the morning dishes. I wipe the counter and table, which leads to scrubbing the stove, and then washing floor in the kitchen. Let’s be real, cooking real dinners are messy AF and since I was “off”, making real dinners, not chicken nuggets or pizza, was expected. Reasoning: I am off work, I should be able to start dinner. Hence, “Should.”

I am an unintentional slob while cooking. I leave cabinets open, I always over boil pasta and get the filmy stain on the stove. Most of the stuff I chop ends up on the floor, and I have like 15 different seasonings and ingredients on the counter. I’m like an OCD person’s worst nightmare.

I move on to the laundry and find myself frustrated about the baskets of unmatching socks mixed with items the kids barely wore and putting it in the wash. I sit on the floor attempting to match my daughters 17 pairs of socks in various colors, that are “almost the same” color but not quite. I cuss and then realize I also have many different colored socks that require matching and curse myself for being me. When I start becoming euphoric when I find a sock match, I know it’s time for me to get a life and do something else. I stand up feeling old AF because my hips and knees ache from siting like that so long.

I decide to take a break from the maddening sock-matching battle, get out of the house and take an exercise class. When I arrive home, I’m starving and thirsty so then I ponder about what to make that is the least messy to clean up. While I’m thinking, I mindlessly eat some donkey chips or nuts. Once I make something, I clean up again, try to figure out what to make for dinner and I’m now exhausted.

I aim to take a “meditation nap” while listening to headphones by 1pm before I shower and pick the kids up. I wake up to my alarm at 2:00pm and check my texts, somehow I’m on some article on Social media and 30 minutes goes by. Son of a… so no shower…again.

I’m getting headaches frequently, probably from dehydration because I keep forgetting to drink water. None of my clothes fit except yoga pants. I have no energy to walk in addition to my workouts. I am barely hitting 5000 steps on my Fitbit. I have forgotten two appointments and like 6 of my kids practices already because I didn’t put it in my calendar. My house is being consumed by clutter and randomness, and the sad thing is, I don’t even care. However, I do begin caring about dumb shit and worrying like “my friend didn’t text me back, is she mad at me?”

I noticed the universal intervention while I kept procrastinating about cleaning my bathroom. “I’ll do it tomorrow.” Until one fateful day, in the middle of washing my face and my daughter asked me something. I dried my face , went to help her and brought kids to school. When I arrive home, I discover the back room floor wet. “Damn kids, what the hell?” I think. Until I go upstairs and realize I left the sink running the entire time. Now I really have to clean my bathroom. Declutter and throw away tons of crap that should’ve been gone years ago.

Fast Forward: Start job March 6th.

•Have to wake up at 4:20am in order to get everything done and leave a time-window open for my scatterbrain-ness•

Below is all that I accomplished:

•Exercise•Shower•Get dressed•Wake kids•Make them breakfast•Ensure they are ready and brush their teeth to eliminate dragon breath before I leave•(why don’t kids care these days about not being the smelly kid).
The Night before all this is ready: Kids lunches/snacks/water•Meal prep my lunch/snacks•Run dishwasher•Laundry•kids uniforms/shoes/socks all ready•(the cursed sock and shoe search is the biggest daily time sucker).•Lay out my workout clothes (with socks and shoes)•Pick out work clothes including underwear, bra, socks and shoes (I am just as bad as my kids, who am I kidding?)•
Leave for train at 6:35am.
Hall ass 25 minutes in the cold to my building
I eat the food I brought with me.
I drink tons of water, probably 20 ounces an hour without thinking about it.
I get 10,000+ steps in by halling ass back to the train station.
No naps,
Home by 5:30

It continues…

•Make dinner•Clock in as an unpaid Uber driver and cart kids from school extended day, games and practices•No missed practices because I put everything my calendar immediately upon receiving the coach’s email•I keep on the kids about putting their crap away•I hold kids accountable to get their shit ready for the morning•No guilt•

Repeat.

Notice the difference? Now it is clear and concise like a fucking resume. Lots of Action Words.

No bullshit.

It’s all done. No elaboration, no details.

It’s completed because it has to be.

I don’t have a choice.

There’s no time to think.

No time to procrastinate.

I have to just do it.

The less time you have, the less time you waste.