From Tracie: August 2011

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

I Am With The Band

There is a little corner of the web that is growing bigger every day.

It is full of love, support, and healing.

It is Band Back Together.



The mission? Band Back Together is a group weblog that provides educational resources as well as a safe, moderated, supportive environment to share stories of survival. Through the power of real stories written by real people, we can work together to destigmatize mental illness, abuse, rape, baby loss and other traumas so that we may learn, grow, and heal.
All are welcome.

When I'm not here, I am with the band - working behind the scenes on SEO and resource pages, and working the facebook. (Have you liked Band Back Together on facebook? Stop by and say hi!)

Today, I am honored to be at Band Back Together for real, with a post that is part of the ongoing "I Am Me Project", defining myself. I Am Tracie - I Am With The BAND!



Saturday, August 27, 2011

August 2011 - Blog Against Child Abuse



I want to thank Astrid for all the work she did this month, hosting and organizing the carnival. 


There are a lot of great submissions. I hope that you will be blessed as you read through them, and show some support to those who have shared their hearts and healing journeys with us this month.

Thank you for raising your voice and speaking out against child abuse. 

The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse provides an opportunity to raise awareness about the serious issue of child abuse and to share important posts with others who may not be frequent readers of an author's blog, and expose one's work to a wider audience. There are so many wonderful bloggers who are contributing to the cause of ending and recovering from child abuse. If you, as a reader or author, know of other blogs that you find helpful, please encourage them to submit to an upcoming issue of the Carnival Against Child Abuse; and please bookmark that page so we can continue to receive high quality submissions from a wide swath of bloggers.

If you are interested in hosting an edition of the blog carnival at your blog, please email me at blogcarnivalagainstchildabuse@gmail.com 

Thursday, August 25, 2011

A Tale Of Loo Water

Tracie- "Thomas, would you please get me some lime water?"

Thomas- "Katarina, would you please get your mom some lime water?"

Katarina (while giggling and running into the bathroom)- "I'll get you some loo water"

Tracie- "I don't want loo water. I want lime water."

Katarina (calling out from the bathroom)- "Loo water coming up."

Thomas gets up and walks toward the kitchen.

Tracie- "Y'all better not bring me loo water."

Thomas- "Blue water? What is blue water?"

Tracie- "LOO water. I want lime water, from the kitchen."

Thomas- "Where is Katarina getting blue water?"

Katarina (over the sound of the toilet flushing)- "I'm not getting her blue water, I'm getting her loo water"

Tracie- "She is getting it from the loo. Katarina, if you bring me loo water, you will be in trouble."

Thomas- "What is blue water?"

Katarina (walking into the kitchen)- "Dad, I'm not getting her blue water, I'm getting her LOON water."

Tracie- "I thought you said you were getting me loo water."

Katarina- "No, Mom. I said loon water. Water for a loon."


At this point, I went to the kitchen and made my own lime water.
It seemed safer that way.






Monday, August 22, 2011

A Hat Full of Baby Squirrels

Friday was beautiful, so Katarina and I decided to go to work with Thomas for the afternoon, and enjoy the fresh air. At our second job, Thomas was raising the limbs on a tree to have a 10 foot clearance. He didn't realize there was a nest on a particularly high limb until the it fell to the ground, and the squeaky-cheeps of baby squirrels filled the air. Four newborn gray squirrels.

The house we were working at was in a busy neighborhood, and with the yard work going on and the homeowner's pets wandering around, we couldn't leave the squirrels on the ground safely, so we gathered them up in a hat Thomas had in the truck.
Katarina holding a hat full of baby gray squirrels

The homeowner took one look at our hat full of squirrels, and with a panicked look in her eyes, said, "You are going to take those squirrels with you, right?! You can not leave them here."

Baby Gray Squirrels, in a hat

We took the squirrels to a nearby pet store to get a small box, and some material to keep them warm.

Caring for squirrels isn't new for us. A few years ago, Thomas brought home two orphaned baby squirrels. There was no wildlife rehabilitation agency, veterinarian, or pet store in the town we used to live, that was willing to care for squirrels. With no one to take them in, we named them Poncho and Lefty, and raised them until they were old enough to be released (just call me Bob Ross).

With fond memories of Poncho and Lefty running through our minds, Thomas and I were tempted to raise these new babies ourselves. But where we currently live, we don't have the right kind of space for squirrels, and we aren't allowed to have pets. Raising them ourselves was not a realistic option.

Tracie and Leslie Johnson


One of the pet store employees gave us a phone number for someone who works with wild animals. Leslie Johnson is a board member and volunteer with the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center of Central Florida, and she takes in orphaned squirrels.


A quick phone call later, we were on our way to Leslie's house.



Katarina had already started to bond with the baby squirrels and was not excited to give them up. There was some tears. After talking about it, she understood that we couldn't give them the care they needed, and keeping them wouldn't be responsible or kind.

When we arrived at Leslie's house, Katarina was happy to see that she already had a slightly older baby squirrel there who could be friends with our little ones. We will also be checking in on the squirrels as they grow (until it is time for them to be released into the wild), and that helped her feel better about leaving them.
Katarina holding a baby Gray Squirrel and Four Newborn Baby Squirrels

What should you do if you find baby squirrels?
-Place the squirrels in a safe spot, near their tree. Quietly watch from a distance, to make sure that the babies are safe, until the mama squirrel comes back.
-It doesn't matter if you touched the babies, the mama will take them back.
-Gray squirrels usually have a second nest already built, so they can quickly relocate the babies once they return.
-If the mom does not return, the most important thing you need to do - keep the babies warm and hydrated - until you can turn them over to a wildlife rehabilitator in your area.

Baby Grey Squirrels

*The Wildlife Rehabilitation Center of Central Florida is a non-profit organization, which receives no state or federal funding. They rely on donations from private citizens and businesses to fund the care of injured and orphaned animals, rehabilitate them, and return them to the wild. Several volunteers, like Leslie, care for animals in their homes, and the center cares for an average of 2,000 animals a year. We are very thankful that they were willing to take in and raise our four baby squirrels.

What is the most unusual pet or animal you have cared for? 

Sunday, August 21, 2011

I'm Singing...Got My Mind Set On You

I usually have something in mind when I sit down to write these stream of consciousness posts.

Is that cheating? Should I clear my mind before I start and then go from there?

I don't know if that is advisable, but we are about to find out....because I currently have no thoughts going on.

Not one.

Saturday was rather unremarkable. Katarina and I worked on a cross stitching project most of the day, except for the time we were reading. Exciting stuff. (actually, although that probably isn't very exciting - it was enjoyable)

Saturday night we watched a dvd of the Concert for George Harrison. Which was fabulous. So much good music. It was sad to watch it, though. And freaky just how much George's son looks like him.

That was the thrillingness of my weekend, and the excitement of the thoughts in my mind. Mostly the thought in my mind is why they didn't sing Got My Mind Set On You - which probably wasn't his best song, but has always been one of my favorites ever since I saw the video when I was a kid. (the video with the singing animal heads, not the video with the ballet dancer trapped in the box/machine/video-player thing. I'm not sure why there was two videos for that song). So now that song is stuck in my head. In a good way. As well as Give Me Love, which they did sing in the concert.
Do you have a favorite George Harrison song?

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

A Dirty Secret - Why Old Catalogues Scare Me

I knew there was something different about my childhood home. It didn't look like my grandparent's home, or my aunt's home, or my friend's homes. It was only a few years ago that I was finally able to put those differences into perspective, while watching an episode of Oprah. 

As the episode started, they showed video footage of a woman's house. I tried to push down thoughts of similarities between the house being shown on the screen and the house where I grew up. I was doing a pretty good job with my denial until the woman tried to grab a piece of newspaper out of someone's hand while yelling, "You can't throw that away, I'm not done reading it!" These were words I had heard from my father many times.

It was the first time I realized that other people lived the way we had, and there was a name for the condition. I couldn't deny it - my father was a Compulsive Hoarder.

What is it like to live with a hoarder?
When I was little, it wasn't too bad. His stuff was contained in just one room. But as the years passed, it eventually took over two rooms, then three, until it was almost every room in the house except my bedroom.

My mom tried to keep things under control. She would clean while he was at work. Inevitably some of the things she threw away would find their way back into the house from the dumpster, but at least it would be better for a little while.

We didn't have people over to our home very often. I remember the few times that it happened, and there were weeks of cleaning before each occurrence. Most of that cleaning resulted in big fights, as my father did not want to part with his stuff. Many boxes would be hidden away in rooms that guests would not see, or stacked under a table and covered with a tablecloth.

Stacks and stacks of old newspapers and magazines. Everywhere.

The hoarding also took over his car. In the backseat, there was enough room for me to sit by the door (with my legs curled up because the floorboard was full). The rest of the bench seat was full of boxes, papers, computer parts and trash - all the way to the top. We also had a broken car in the driveway; it sat for years, completely full. 

If my dad thought we had thrown out even a single page of newspaper from his stacks, he would go through the garbage can to get it back, saying (yelling), "I am not done reading that." It didn't matter if it was a page of ads that was several months old, he would not part with it.

Things broke, but they were not discarded. 

I had to come up with reasons why I couldn't invite friends to come over, even if I had been to their houses several times. Once, I told a friend that our house was too messy. When she replied, "Oh our house was SUCH a mess when you were here last time. I don't mind." I realized that her definition of 'mess' was a basket of unfolded laundry and a craft project left out overnight on the dining room table. 

My house had a path of clear-ish floor space through the middle of the family room, leading to the couch and to the eating area. Every other inch of floor and tablespace was covered with boxes, piles of newspapers, old computer parts, and other trash.

I tried to explain to her that my house was not the same kind of messy as hers. I think she thought I was making up an excuse not to invite her over. Our friendship faded soon after. That cemented the thought in my mind that our living situation should be kept secret.

After my parents split up, the hoarding went out of control.
When  I was eighteen, I moved into my father's apartment for a few months. Most of my stuff was going into storage, but I had a few boxes with books and other personal belongings that I was going to keep with me. He told me that he cleared out a place for me in the spare bedroom, and I got a couple of friends to help me move. 

I thought (because he told me he had three storage rooms and the apartment had been cleaned up) that when we arrived most of his mess would be hidden away. It wasn't. This was the first time someone outside of my immediate family had seen the full extent of my father's hoarding, and it was embarrassing. I had not been prepared for how out of control it had gotten. Arriving at the apartment, we walked (single-file) through the path in the living room, to get to the spare bedroom.

This is what I saw: The door would only open partway, because there were things leaning against the wall behind it. To my immediate left was a closet that was full of old clothes that hadn't been worn in years, boxes and papers. I think he had cleared out enough room for me to hang up approximately three dresses. Directly in front of me was a single bed with a small path next to it, just big enough for me to fit through. The rest of the room was packed, floor to ceiling, with boxes. We all stared at the wall of boxes in shock. 

One friend, Chris, started grabbing newspapers and bags and taking them to be thrown out. I tried to stop him, explaining that my father would freak out. He assured me that there was no way my father would notice if a few bags of trash left the room.

Chris started opening boxes and found one that had a couple of plastic Wal-Mart bags and trash. Another box contained lots of papers and a Service Merchandise catalogue. He started waving it around, "THIS! He needs this catalogue? Service Merchandise has been out of business for over a year! Why does he have this?"

I had no answer.

I no longer live with a hoarder, but hoarding still affects me. 
I have reoccurring versions of this nightmare: something has happened to my father, and I get a call that I have to go deal with his house. It usually ends with me being stuck behind (or buried underneath) a pile of boxes.

I see tweets and facebook updates announcing that someone is watching Hoarders to get motivated to clean. It does not work like that for me. Just watching a commercial for Hoarders brings on the beginning of a panic attack.

Sometimes I start to freak out if Thomas goes looking for something in a drawer, because I feel like he is touching my stuff. It doesn't matter that the stuff is just a pair of scissors and some batteries - I suddenly have an irrational, emotional attachment to it. The exact kind of reaction that was modeled by my father. When it happens, I try to remember to take deep breathes and be calm. Usually it works, and the panic subsides.

Every few months I make a point to go through drawers and closets and shelves to see what can be donated to goodwill. I don't always trust my instincts as to what should be kept and what should be given away. There are times I probably get rid of things that could have been kept and put to use.

But the biggest effect growing up with compulsive hoarding has on me is this: Sometimes I wonder if there is a hoarder living inside me, just waiting to be unleashed...and that thought terrifies me.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Happiness Is A Stuffed Rabbit

I think the rabbit is planning something, and Thomas is in on it.
Thomas and a pink and yellow stuffed bunny
Happiness is going to the bookstore on a Saturday night and taking silly pictures of your husband with a stuffed rabbit, just because you can. 


What is making you happy today?

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Now Accepting Submissions for the August 2011 Edition of the Blog Against Child Abuse


The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse is a monthly event. Its purpose is to raise awareness about the serious issue of child abuse. All forms of abuse—physical, emotional, sexual, spiritual, verbal—are discussed. We highlight blog posts, from child abuse survivor stories and their art & poetry, to child abuse as a topic in the news media, as well as PTSD, dissociation and other areas of the abuse "aftermath" that adult survivors are forced to deal with. We also link to hopeful posts about therapy, recovery and healing from abuse. All forms of child advocacy and awareness are included.


The August edition of the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse will be hosted at A Multitude of Musings


Our theme this month is Mental Health. Astrid's announcement post offers some thoughts about mental health, but she wants you to feel free to interpret the topic broadly.


All of our regular categories will also be open:
-Advocacy and Awareness
-Aftermath
-Healing and Therapy
-In the News
-Poetry
-Survivor Stories
-Art Therapy



The deadline for submissions is August 24th, and I'm excited to see what y'all will share this month. You can submit something written especially for this edition, but please feel free to submit an older post (or more than one post) as well. 


If you are interested in hosting an upcoming edition of the carnival, please let me know! 
The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse provides an opportunity to raise awareness about the serious issue of child abuse and to share important posts with others who may not be frequent readers of an author's blog, and expose one's work to a wider audience. There are so many wonderful bloggers who are contributing to the cause of ending and recovering from child abuse. If you, as a reader or author, know of other blogs that you find helpful, please encourage them to submit to an upcoming issue of the Carnival Against Child Abuse; and please bookmark that page so we can continue to receive high quality submissions from a wide swath of bloggers.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Veggie Tales - Princess and the Popstar

I became a Veggie Tales fan the moment I heard the first verse of "Where Is My Hairbrush" back in the early 90s, and my love for those veggies has continued ever since. Our first year of marriage, I actually made Thomas sit and watch a veggie movie marathon with me one night, after learning he had never seen them.

With my long history of Veggie Tale love, I'm very happy that Katarina is also a fan.
Veggie Tales Princess and the Popstar Picture
Today we watched the new Veggie Tales movie - Princess and the Popstar.

It is a little bit Hannah Montana and a lot Prince and the Pauper - with a Veggie Tales twist.

A carrot named Princess Poppyseed is tired of life on the family farm. She dreams of living the life of her favorite popstar, Vanna Banana.

Princess and Vanna meet each other at a park, and (realizing that they look exactly alike) hatch a plan to change places.

It doesn't work out very well, but by the end of the story they both learn that God has a special plan for each person's life.








The movie was very cute. The lesson was great. The silly song did not disappoint. 
That is exactly what I'm looking for in a Veggie Tales video.

From Katarina - in her own words:
"I love the names Princess Poppyseed and Vanna Banana.
I love (and I mean LOVE) that they grow pie on their farm.
The little brother is funny, and the dad is unspeakably funny. I think the robo-pogo stick is ingenious.
All of the songs are fun. The only thing I didn't like was that they changed the theme song a little bit. I liked it better the old way.
LOVE this movie!"

I know y'all are all jealous that I am sitting at my house singing silly songs and watching carrots. But you can get your own copy of Veggie Tales - Princess and the Popstar on August 16th.

In other news, you can win a copy of the dvd right here!

Mandatory entry: Leave a comment and tell me your favorite Veggie Tales movie, or your favorite silly song.

Additional entries: Leave comments...as many as you want, about anything.

If your email address isn't enabled in your blogger profile, make sure to leave it in your comment so I can find you! 

Random.org will help me pick a winner on August 15th at midnight. Good luck!

UPDATE!! The winner is.....Unknown Mami!! 

**Legal stuff: I was provided a free copy of Princess and the Popstar to review. I was not compensated in any other way. The views expressed in this post are mine and (where noted) Katarina's. We were not required to say nice things. 

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Happiness Is Stopping to Smell the Flowers

While talking to a grandparent on the phone last night, Katarina had this to say about being eight years old, "Last week I was seven; skipping around the room, being a kid. I had no clue. Now I am eight, which is nearly grown up, and everything is different. Being eight years old is a big responsibility. One day I am going to look back and miss being seven."

You know what I miss? Walking outside without feeling like I've stepping into a sauna.

Until fall arrives, I am going to be grateful for yellow hibiscus flowers. One of the good things the summer heat brings.

Yellow Hibiscus

Yellow flowers make me happy.

What is making you happy today?

Friday, August 05, 2011

Ordinary Nothingness Into the Void


I read for entertainment.
I read to learn.
I read to immerse myself in the beauty of words. 
I read to pass time.
I read to gain insight.
I read to feel the heartbeat of other's passions.
I read to see the extraordinary.


When I was 11, I spent most of a summer with family in Arizona. My grandma, ever concerned that vacations should be scheduled and planned and full, went to a library sale and picked up some books for me to read.

In those books was a story about a girl with a butterfly tattoo on her hand. I don't remember all of the intricacies of that story, but I remember that the girl had a mysterious past, a wall around her heart, and a butterfly tattoo on her hand as the only outward sign of feelings.

I felt her story strongly, as if it were my own. Even though my life contained no real mystery (only secrets held tightly) and my wall was not so visible, and there certainly was no butterfly tattoo on my hand.

I pull stories into my soul. Even after the book or blog post or newspaper article has long since been read, the stories sit there, waiting to come out of the dark cobwebby places and into the light of my mind to be mulled over and remembered. That girl with the butterfly tattoo lives in my mind.

I do not dream. I don't play the "what if I won the lottery game", or imagine myself with a super power. I am too much of a realist (a pessimist), or a believer in my own state of persistent ordinary. Deep, deep within my soul, I yearn for the extraordinary...for butterfly tattoos and mysteriousness, for passions realized, for triumph and overcoming, for travel, for a story. But I don't expect. I don't allow myself to dwell on those thoughts. I don't wish. I never dream. I stopped asking.

Is it wrong that at 28 I have a list of things I'm too old to do? I am sure it might be.

I can not seem to make myself understand how someone picks up and changes their life. I tried it once, and it didn't work.

I have too much time with quiet, with my thoughts, and no time to - become a ballet dancer, or build a passion for roller derby, or get a butterfly tattoo, or do a back flip, or become a Trekkie, or build something, or learn how to work on a carburetor, or train dogs, or be mysterious, or model in an art class, or leave the country, or ski, or learn Russian, or grow my own food, or...

I sit in the nothingness of ordinary.

I know as bloggers, we all say we write for ourselves, or to make friends and build connections, but I'm not doing any of those things today. I'm hitting publish on this post because I want to send my words out there into the void, and maybe let a little bit of myself go along with them. Proof that, even for the second it takes to hit that button, I was alive.







Tuesday, August 02, 2011

Eight Years Old

Today Katarina is eight years old. I'm all weepy and amazed. I feel old when I hear things coming out of my mouth like, "The time has gone by so fast." and "It seems like just yesterday I was holding her in my arms and rocking her to sleep" but I keep saying those things, because they are true.

I'm finding that this parenting thing goes extremely fast and unbelievably slow - all at the same time.

Last night, I captured Katarina, in the last few hours of being seven.
Katarina, hours before she turned eight
Not at all a baby, but not yet grown all the way up.

Katarina,
As you embark on the adventure that is eight years old, my heart is full. I'm so proud of the amazing person that you are. The deepness of your heart. All the small and big things that you remember. Your imagination that is more a raging fire than a spark - when you draw a picture, it always comes with a story. You pick out big words from the books you are reading, and use them. You dream big. You are a hard worker. You send me emails that are so silly, they make me laugh; and emails that are so sweet, they bring tears to my eyes. 

You amaze me every day. I'm so thankful that all those years ago there was a miracle, and you are here with us. 

I love you with much muchiness. 
Eight is going to be an awesome year!