Thursday, October 1, 2009

Tena doesn't live here anymore

I've Moved!

Please update your bookmarks and links

You looking for me? I've gone into the Witness Relocation Program. Not really... you can find me HERE now. If you subscribe, I might even share my stash. You're dying to know if it's chocolate, Xanax or pot, aren't you?

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Wednesday, September 23, 2009

In high school, I never gave into peer pressure. I was cool with being uncool. It worked for me.

I never drank because I felt I had to- just to fit in. I did drugs in college because, well, I wanted to. I was promiscuous with only the men that I wanted to be promiscuous with. I've always marched to the beat of my own doped up, slutty little drummer- usually in a band with long hair and tattoos... until... yesterday.

Ah, yesterday, times were so much simpler.

I had my modest little website and we were happy. I had hundreds dozens of committed readers and subscribers at my little blog and things were good. Until... yesterday.

Yesterday, I was just minding my own business and being my normally productive self (read: goofing around on the computer with my Aiming Low friends) when the topic of owning your own domain came up. If you're not a blogger, this is, simply owning the domain name- like www.mytherapy, for example. It's way more professional, easier to get to, and known commonly in the blogosphere as "putting on your big girl pants".

What's fun about being professional and wearing big girl pants? I'm not sure.

I considered it for a moment, but then when I discovered that http://www.mytherapy/ was a real therapy site and already taken, I said screw it.

Until the peer pressure started.
"Your blog is not cool unless it's on WordPress."
"You suck if you don't own your own domain and take this hit of acid."

"Everyone's doing it."

Ok, so maybe I just heard those things in my head and they didn't pressure me, but still... I'm impulsive... I ran to the home of the domain names and bought

Then, I decided to move to WordPress- which is the equivalent of taking off the blogging training wheels on a bike that I already didn't know how to ride.

What the hell was I thinking?

That is a very good question.

I was trying to keep up with the cool kids. Prove that I could fit in. How wrong I was!

These are big technological moves. I am not tech savvy- like, REALLY not- like, I'm proud that I know how to check e-mail and use a cell phone- not tech savvy. I hadn't the first clue of what I had gotten myself into.

I felt like I was going to puke for the last 18 hours, but with the help of a little Portuguese angel with a gorgeous technical brain and more patience than Taylor Swift, and a few doses of anti-depressants, I am now wearing sexy panties and riding a two wheeler at!

And... I have 1 subscriber. Yeah, they didn't carry over. So, this is me... starting over. Have pity on me and join me, won't you?

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Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Shallow much?

This week I will be turning 37. That's not old, really, is it? Lie to me. While we're at it, these pants don't make me look fat, do they?

It has been almost 20 years since I graduated high school. Now THAT makes me feel old.

I am planning my reunion and being reminded of old names and faces. Some, I don't remember, at all. I told myself that must have been a mistake- that they couldn't have been in my class- because I would have remembered them! Upon referring to my yearbook and being proven wrong- it's official, I'm getting old and losing my mind.

This morning my fear was reinforced by me removing my eye make-up with toner.

Being faced with a rapid decline in my quality of life and a reunion of people that knew me when I was skinny, had a tight ass, and was academically over-achieving, oh, have times changed! I've decided it's time I get my shit together.

So, I have 11 months to lose the 30(+)lbs that I've put on since high school, decide what I want to be now that I'm grown up and become VERY successful in my chosen path so I can brag about it and be able to afford that much needed tummy tuck, Botox, Restylane, and Juvederm.

My son needs to become the star football player on his team (even though he's not even a starter) and an honor student (that's gonna take a little a LOT of work), my girls need to become accomplished students, musicians, and maybe models or actresses. My husband needs to get in shape so he can be my "trophy husband" who dotes all over me and make those ex-boyfriends kick themselves.

I don't know... am I expecting too much? Don't get all philosophical on me, I'm joking. Mostly.

No one needs to know that I wear elastic waisted pants and my husband's t-shirts, preferably without a bra, while I sit at a computer daily and spew random thoughts and way more information about incontinence, parental mis-steps and mental instability than one person should reveal on a public forum.

That'll be our secret.

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Monday, September 21, 2009

I watched it so you didn't have to

I seriously get sexually aroused at the thought of the Academy Awards every year. It's so exciting- the glamour, the guessing, the parties, the movies. Ironically, I don't get out much... or see movies much until they're out on DVD... which puts me at quite a disadvantage in my Oscar picks. Frankly, I am thoroughly unqualified to write about the Academy Awards.

HOWEVER, the Emmy's, is a different story, entirely. I watch a lot of fricking TV. And for you... I watched the Emmy's in case you didn't have 3 hours to sit on your ass and eat ice cream... you're welcome.

Here is my recap...

First, it was a great show, I didn't nod off once, which is a good sign for an award show. The new format worked well. There were 5 segments- separated by genre- comedy, variety, reality, miniseries/movie, and drama- good idea- I knew I could go refill my glass of wine during the miniseries/movie segment of the show!

I will admit, I was leery about Doogie Howser being chosen as the host. I'm sure I wasn't the only one, which I believe made him try that much harder and it paid off!

Neil was very entertaining (and adorable- yet another cute boy lost to the other side!)... and not in a "I'm trying too hard" kind of way. He was real and honest about jokes that sucked. From his announcing presenters by their most obscure acting credit (like after school specials) to his sidekick color commentator (actor), John Hodgeman, who made up hilarious facts about the winners as they walked up to the stage, it was a FINALLY, an awards show with personality!!!

I won't bore you with any more details... now, the stuff I noticed...

***Tracy Morgan looked pissed off at a joke about Kanye West ("Let's hope that Kanye West likes 30 Rock")- get over it Tracy, that was funny!

***Kristen Chenowith is adorable and they should shrink her down just a little more and make pocket sizes of her- they'd sell like hotcakes. HOWEVER, there should be a rule against nominations from cancelled shows OR cancelling shows that have nominations, just sayin'.

***I don't like that Jon Cryer won. Johnny Drama. It urks me more than words. Kevin Dillon. I don't like Two and a Half Men, I think it's a lame ass comedy that belongs on the CW. Johnny Chase. He was originally offered Matthew Perry's role of Chandler on Friends, he must have something, but I don't see it, all I see is Ducky! Kevin Dillon. I had a favorite, but I won't editorialize.

*** I'm not loving JT's 'nerdy look'
*** I liked Amazing Race and Survivor FOR THE FIRST TWO SEASONS- I'M OVER IT! Why do they keep winning in the reality category???

***Neil's gayness shone through with his overt excitement over the dance segment.

***Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgewick didn't look destitute to me.

*** Ken Howard, The White Shadow- himself, gave goose bumps when he thanked the woman that gave him a KIDNEY!!! I just got chills again writing it- what a nice story!

*** Patricia Arquette had no business wearing that dress- holy boobs- I hope she got out alive!

***Dear music director, when Patricia Arquette comes out, don't play Toto's Roseanna, that's HER SISTER not her!

*** I'm also over The Daily Show winning.

*** YUM

*** Toni Collette- YEAH!!! You must watch United States of Tara if you don't already. I once wrote a post about it, but true to form, I can't find it, trust me, the show is good.

***BOO! Aaron Paul from Breaking Bad should have won, but YEAH Bryan Cranston- 2 years in a row! You must also start watching Breaking Bad.

***I'm probably going to hell for this one, but I was uncomfortable watching Michael J. Fox.

*** Last year, I had 'watch Mad Men' on my list of things to do, now I really must get around to that.

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Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Walk a mile with someone else's boobs

I'm not an expert in... well... anything. However, I feel like my life experiences have taught me a lot. Jack of all trades- master of none- is really a good way to describe me. I dabble in a little of this and that.

This is my breastfeeding saga.

When my son was born, I was a single mom. 23 years old and freaked out, scared out of my wits. I had never even changed a boy's diaper. I didn't even plan on having kids until my life took this unexpected detour.

I made a conscious decision to not breastfeed him because I knew I would have some hurdles in this solo parenting journey that haunted me and I wasn't up for any more unknowns. I knew I would likely be depending on the help of my family and friends and that being the sole milk machine, might make it more difficult to call on them in times of need.

In the hospital, I got 'the look' from the nurses, that look: you young, ignorant, slut- don't you know breastfeeding is best! I knew, I didn't care, I was lucky I had gotten this far- healthy baby, full term. In hindsight, I was selfish and fresh out of my college rebellion phase and maybe grasping onto it, slightly, minus the sex and drugs.

My son thrived on formula (GASP) and is still healthy and, as a 14 year old, I think he's thankful that I can't pull out stories and pictures of me breastfeeding him when his friends are over.

Enter child #2- planned- thought out- legs up in the air- watching the calendar- taking pregnancy tests constantly- planned. I was determined to do this one right. I wouldn't let those bitches judge me this time. I was in the mothering groove and I was ready to attempt breastfeeding. I took the classes. I read books. I was serious.

Child #2 had other plans. Plans of crying constantly. Plans of screaming until my ears bled. Plans of being lazy and having NO INTEREST of latching on. I went to the lactation consultants with baby in hand and tears in my eyes. Nothing.

I attended a nursing support group that was held in the backroom of a child's second hand store. The store owner and leader of the group was pregnant and had her 2, 3, and 5 year olds undoing her bib overalls at their whim throughout the meeting to get a drink of "milky". As much as I was put off by this, it made me feel like that much more of a failure, because I couldn't get my ONE newborn to latch on! I left there feeling worse.

I went to my pediatrician. I sat in a dark room swaddling a naked baby at my breast while massaging her legs and begging her to latch on while the doctor watched-for-an-hour. AWKWARD. But still nothing. She was 4 weeks old when my doctor finally decided that she was a 'lazy nurser' and I would probably be better off bottle feeding. She won. Her will was stronger than mine.

Child #3 -I could prove that I wasn't a failure. Breastfeeding wouldn't take me down. I was confident. I had done this before (no one needed to know that I failed, miserably.) From the moment she was born she latched on like a champ. It was a completely different experience- it was rewarding, overwhelming, redeeming. I reveled in it. I finally accomplished this hurdle and unspoken judgement that had followed me for so long. She nursed for 11 months and never took a bottle or drank formula.

Child #4 followed suit of #3- as if she left the directions, step by step, in utero. It was too easy. So easy, I never wanted to stop, knowing that she would probably be my last, I wanted to hang on as long as I could. I needed her to need me. I started getting family comments, "isn't she about old enough to be done nursing, yet?" She probably was, I wasn't. I could have kept going for a lot longer. I gave in to social stigmas and acceptability. At 13 months, I weened her. And me.

I've been on both sides. I see why people make the decisions that they make. I don't judge. This is never an easy decision and is rarely a simple road. Women need to stick together and stop with the high and mighty shit- from both sides.

The cherished smell of a baby, a mother's love, the emotional attachment and adoration for that baby is no less or more with breastfeeding. We all want to do what is best for our baby's health, future, and happiness. Every one's circumstances are different and we do the best we can with what we have. Only you know what works best for you and your baby.

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Monday, September 14, 2009

Deer might seem pretty, but they mean you're going to have a shitty day

Today I woke up to 3 deer running through the pasture across from my house as the morning fog was clearing. It was picturesque- you'll have to take my word for it because my camera was in my car.

I decided that was a sign of what should be a lovely and productive day, as I raced upstairs to put on a sport's bra and workout clothes. I never got to the gym- how the time flies.

Next, on to be productive at the grocery store, to pick up a few 'healthy items' for dinner. I walked out with donuts (Wha? They were on sale!?) and pasta (it's easy) in PLASTIC bags because I left my reusable bags in the car!

I thought I'd get ahead on my bills- not paying them- that's funny- no, just getting them ready for when the money tree blooms. I found an insurance bill that was due 2 days ago- FAB!

This day just keeps getting better despite the momma deer and her fucking frolicking fawns!

I really planned to make this day positive and move away from my Negative Nelly route, but alas, it is not time to move on yet. I had the best intentions, hoping for simpler times when my cable went down and I could call the cable company and complain... but now, I have to go check and see how late I am on the bill.

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Friday, September 11, 2009


Today is 9/11.

I never liked history. It bored me. It was something I could not relate to since I wasn't alive for any of it. My eyes glazed over as a student taking the required courses.

My husband loves history, can't get enough of it. He has always been able to see how it relates to him. His mom was pregnant with him when JFK was shot. His mom has always told him the stories of where she was and how it felt and in that way- he felt connected. I think that's where his love and appreciation for history began- he could relate to it- he saw how his life was affected by it.

September 11, 2001 was that point in my life, when something so huge happens in your world, that it makes you take a step back and appreciate everything and look at the big picture. A time when you see that things are bigger than you and the bubble you live in. A point when you realize it's not all about me.

Sadly, regretfully, I was 29 when this tragedy brought that revelation to light.

Eight years later, instead of harping on the sadness of that day, I think of the positives that grew from living that experience. I am more conscious of my world and interested in learning what led us to where we are today.

This is my account of what happened from my view on that day (posted last year). The man that was killed was also my son's best friend's uncle.

My son was only 5. His favorite subject in school is History.

I'm now proud of that...

Seven years ago, I had a 10 month old that was going through a bad habit of waking at 4:30AM- screaming for a bottle. I had a routine of going to her room in a zombie state, bottle in hand, and feeding her as I sat in the rocking chair in her room. Not being a morning person, the broken sleep was more than I could stand. I stumbled my way back to my bed and cozied in. My husband would leave for work at 5:30, right as I was getting the baby and myself back to sleep.

My 5 year old was just a few days away from starting Kindergarten. Luckily, I had trained him well enough to pour cereal and turn on cartoons for he and his 2 year old sister as I caught up on my beauty sleep!

I remember the clock read 7:58 (Central time) and the phone rang. I remember cursing my husband in my mind for dare waking me out of my slumber before my babysitter, Dora the Explorer's, time was up. I'm sure my tone of voice was not welcoming to my neighbor, a friend and fellow stay at home mom, who was actually on the other end of the phone.

She asked if I was watching TV. I recall trying to 'play off' the fact that I was sound asleep while my kids fend for themselves. I'm, uh, cleaning, the television is on Nickelodeon, but no, I'm not watching it, why?

She goes on to say that she assumed that I was watching kid's TV, like her, and that I probably had no idea of what was going on. Her husband had just called her and told her to turn on the news- that the World Trade Center had just been hit by an airplane.

Let me say that I was relatively young, very naive, non-political and a horribly ignorant Midwestern. I didn't even know what the World Trade Center was. I turned on the TV and was immediately enthralled in the tragedy. I had no idea what any of it meant, at that point, but I couldn't take my eyes off of it and wanted to learn.

My husband called shortly after my neighbor. He had been in a class for work and was given a 15 minute break and caught the news. I remember two things he said... 1.) The people in this class don't care, they don't get it! 2.) You know this means we're at war, right?

He was horribly disturbed by the fact that his class continued on after a short break- even with the knowledge of what had happened. This was still shortly after the first plane hit. There were still reporters justifying the acts as 'a possible accident'. I didn't know any better, they could have been right, for all I knew. But, my husband, the conspiracy theorist, knew- from that first moment. I dismissed him, at first, as I usually do. Then, I watched the second plane hit as I was living and breathing!

The news commentators slowly began unraveling the dark, ugly truth that we have all come to know today. I sat in front of the television for 48 hours straight- I may have dozed off for a couple hours here and there, but as the facts, personal stories, and gritty emotion poured out of, otherwise monotonous anchors, I couldn't pull myself away.

In my little part of the world, I was relatively unscathed, on a personal basis. However, one of my friends, a neighbor, had a brother that had a business meeting at the World Trade Center that morning. He had flown from Kansas City that morning and she had spoken to him after the first plane hit- all was well. He hadn't arrived at the designation, yet, but hung around and still planned to make his meeting, after all had been cleared.

After the second plane hit, she felt confident that he was out of harm's way. She still made efforts to call him on his cell phone to make sure. A stranger answered his cell phone which was lying on the streets of New York. Some members of her family spent the next week in New York hospitals in the 'search' for the missing and unidentified that we all so eerily remember being pasted up and down the city's scape. Sadly, within days, they learned that he had been hit on the street by a large piece of flying debris from the second plane's entrance and killed.

I remember our neighborhood having a candlelight vigil and my friend breaking down and falling to her knees. I remember all of us rushing to help her up and comfort her, as nearly impossible as that was. I remember the goose bumps, the tears, and the helplessness I felt were overwhelming. I remember the new found feeling of patriotism- the pride I felt with every flag that lined our streets. I remember the anger and the uncertainty of our future as Americans.

I cried a lot and hugged my kids more. This was my "JFK" moment. I would always know "where I was when...".

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