The Most Beautiful...

11.13.2014
Mark told me the other day that the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed was watching me grow a baby. I felt the most beautiful I had ever felt in my life at that moment. I'm not the most feminine of gals. Pink and dresses aren't my thug thizzle, but I definitely still have a strong female presence that goes beyond all the superficial.

The power women possess...the strength and the emotions...well, they're just sort of magical. When I feel beautiful in my skin it's like I'm sharing a moment with the Universe; humbling myself in front of The Big Guy Upstairs...accepting that the Universe's work isn't mine to judge...I'm thankful I have skin to feel good in.

I may rock men's clothes; delight in a pair of chucks and squirm at the sight of a pair of pumps, but I am so proud to be a woman right now.

I have to remind myself to thank Ziggy when she's old enough to understand. She made her mama feel like a woman. Not even Shania Twain or Beyoncé could do that!

Strong Women. Lots of Respect. Ellen and Anne You Rock.

11.07.2014


I was watching my pretend wife  (That's Ellen folks...come on.) on the tele yesterday and was touched by Anne Hathaway's confession about cyber bullying. Two very strong and lovely women just sitting in chairs talking their truths. I LIVE for those moments.

It really resonated. I thought I'd share if you needed some wholesome woman power on this fine Friday.


Happy Friday, Folks. 

Da Bump (Chicago Style)

11.04.2014

Please tell me you said the title of this post with the correct accent. If you didn't do this then we need to talk.

I know I said I'd write more and by golly I have been a writing fool when it comes to my journal, but alas I still don't have much to report on in regards to the super public stuff other than I lack da bump.

I'm now four months in (still sick as a seasick crocodile..which is green so I'm obviously maintaining some delight.) with a little growth above my belly button that I call a bump. Everyone else scoffs at it and says I look like someone who's just eaten a cheeseburger. I can hide it no longer. I am actually having a food baby.

The weird thing is I feel like I'm so knocked up I should be waddling. Sleeping is uncomfortable. Clothes are uncomfortable. How can one little cheeseburger cause so much discomfort? It's the phantom belly phenomenon...

Yesterday I went for my four-month checkup and it was the first time we really heard Ziggy's heartbeat for a long period of time. The last time we went in I had too much poop blocking the sound. (You didn't think you'd read through my entire pregnancy without hearing about poop, right?! You did! Ha! You silly mortal...)  This time I successfully cleared a path and there in that glorious room we heard the little swishing sounds and I melted. Healthy baby whose heart beats like a pro!

She's not even small for her stage or anything... I like to think I'm just a spacious caravan for a fetus' delight; lots of room in that torso area for stretching out like a G. So now I've stopped worrying my morning sickness is starving her to death. Home girl is doing good. I'm doing as well as a weird chick with phantom belly issues could be doing. It's all good.

Have I changed? Yeah probably. I'm going to auditions and reading child birthing techniques in the waiting area and I'm watching baby documentaries like it's nobody's business. Oh yeah, and I'm looking up other peoples' baby bumps to see if my cheeseburger is normal. Usually the internet is dangerous, but it's been helping me a lot. I wouldn't have been able to share the below picture of Octomom without such late night stalkings. 

Actual bump

What I feel like my bump is...

My Ankh Tattoo

10.27.2014
Without fail this happens...


I'll be in an elevator. (My hair is up so my tattoo is showing.) Someone walks in and stands behind me. I feel the eyeballs burrow into my neck and then the question comes...


"Um, so what's your tattoo? Is that a cross?" (uncomfortable laughter)


"It's an ankh. It's an Egyptian hieroglyph that means eternal life."


They usually will nod their heads and say they thought that's what it meant and go back to silence... while I secretly giggle because I know a lot are simply relieved I'm not rocking some sort of devil worshipper sign.


Nope...not praying to the Dark One. When I was in 6th grade I got really into Egyptian history and the idea of the ankh. I vowed some day I would get a tattoo of the symbol and then put my children's names near it; my take on eternal life. (Heavy stuff for a 6th grader, I know.)


So yeah, I got the tattoo years ago and now that I'm pregnant I'm reminded of that little 6th grader with all the philosophical plans for her and her children.
I've experienced losing a parent at an early age so I've always done morbidly sweet things so that any future children would know their mother just in cases.


I've kept a journal since 1st grade. It started out as a place where I'd rant about homework and unibrow interventions but later morphed into words for my children to read. It felt good knowing there would be a record of who I was... a record of my truths...pages that would carry my spirit. Sadly, my father left nothing. I have a handful of stories from family and that's it. Having so little of him has always bothered me. What I wouldn't give for some of that man's writings! A home video...SOMETHING!

It's why I've always related to people's need to mark where they've been. Some folks graffiti. I wrote. But then I stopped blogging simply because I ran out of things I felt like sharing publically.


For today at least my need to write is back. I was watching one of Oprah's Where Are They Nows and it featured a follow-up on one of my favorite Oprah moments of all time. There was this father/husband who created a youtube love letter to his wife for her birthday. That video and that man's story drove me to download Train's Mary Me and weep like a mad woman every time it came on. I've always wondered about the family and how they were. Then today I found out he had sadly past away. His wife and their two sons updated Oprah on their lives and while they're doing well I couldn't help but weep for the little boys who lost their daddy.


Kris wrote a blog for his sons...love letters of remembrance for them in later years and it totally inspired me to come back to my computer and try again. We always write for a particular audience. We always have someone in mind. I've got my daughter and a husband who I thank God for on the daily. So consider this my jump back into the water...for them...for posterity.


Picking the pen back up...







Little Sheroes: Potty-mouthed Princesses Rule

10.23.2014
Have you seen the potty-mouthed princesses yet? It's no secret among my friends and family that I'm super down with raising a strong, confident and intelligent little girl. (Oh, we're having a little girl bee tee dubs.)



Being that I'm scouring the interwebs for tiny feminism tees and hoodies you can imagine how much my butt twitches when some well-meaning spirit comes along and refers to my Ziggy as a little princess. Stop! Stop right there! PLEASE don't call her that! And PLEASE don't shove unnecessary image issues down her throat...she's just learning how to suckle right now for gosh sakes....it's only week 15.



I was sooo happy to see the potty-mouthed princess video yesterday. It warmed my heart and gave me fresh hope. This is THE best thing in the world. May not be suitable for work or small little ears, but the best messages never are xo...







Great Expectations: Our Itsy Bitsy

10.06.2014



Yep, we're expecting a little itsy bitsy April 2015!

Current thoughts: I'm a self-proclaimed tomboy...suddenly doing something uber girly. This ish is WEIRD! I've been super duper sick...like you can't imagine the hell that morning sickness truly is until you experience it. I swear I thought it was like a petite little puke in the morning and then I'd be fine...that I'd go about my day working and doing the stuff I see women doing while pregnant on tv. Wasn't my reality. Complete opposite, actually. How do women film movies in their first trimester?!!?! How do women work, period?!?! It's madness! Madness I say!

Speaking of movies and actors...I'm a wannabe actor with a huge dream...The first thing that shifted was my outlook on my dream. It's not that I've forgotten or want it any less, but I seriously had no problems pausing. I told my agent I needed to get through the morning sickness because auditions and headshot shoots were grueling. I didn't even cry typing her the email. It's weird how I've still managed to hold on to the essence of me and the person I want to be, yet still make room for a tiny. I was scared I'd be one of those self-absorbed mamas who blames her kids for her ruined dreams...or worse--a woman who forgets her dreams and takes on the title of motherhood like it's her new and only skin. Like I said...all kinds of thoughts happen; especially when all you do is lie on a couch willing the nausea away.

Life's gonna be so much more interesting with a little in the picture. Before I learned I was expecting I reached out to women I admire in the industry. The women were super kind and honest and positive. It was perfect timing...like I knew it would happen soon and I'd need to make sure my head was screwed on straight...that I was going in, eyes wide open. I can do this.

I'm feeling lucky I got Mark as a partner in crime. Dude's been super duper helpful. He is the family stone right now...making sure everything keeps moving since I ain't moving much at all.

...And if you were wondering about future writing...Pretty sure I'm not gonna be a mommy blogger. I'm not funny or girly enough to pull it off, but I can see myself checking in occasionally to write out all the feelings of being a mom and a dreamer.

Officially Scared Shitless,

Tish

Spagic I Say!

9.03.2014


Hey...

It's been awhile. I knew those spurts would come. I sit at least once a day and seriously shake my head. I wrote for years...so many posts; sometimes three posts a day and then Poof!, nada. I still don't know what happened. The art of sharing just ceased to thrill me like it used to. I always say if something absolutely wonderful happens I'll pick back up the pen (figuratively speaking) and share some goodness, but inspiration isn't what it used to be.

I was thumbing through drafts I never published and found these notes. Now THIS I knew I could share. No editing because I have no clue what I was going to do with these notes. Just bits from my wedding...which tickles me rotten. It's almost a year; but it feels like it was eons ago. I love remembering and reliving it all. Soon Mark and I will return to celebrate; part 1 of our first year anniversary. Everything about that day was magic. I'm hoping we'll show up and all our friends and family will be there to surprise us and share in the fun times again...

 "If you're fond of sand dunes and salty air...quaint little villages here and there..." 
 "At the River" , Groove Armada


First Dance = Pure Imagination (From Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory, but sung by The Cast of Glee.)

Quote on our CDs = "We are the makers of music. We are the dreamer of dreams." (A Willy Wonka quote.)

9.13.13 = Our wedding date and the official day fans celebrate Roald Dahl (Author of Willy Wonka, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach and other books I loved and adored as a child.)

I've always wanted the song, Pure Imagination. I kept it a secret for years so that people wouldn't jack my ish. Best song ever to slow dance to...I know this from personal, blissful experience.

Coincidences? Yes, crazily enough! It was just meant to be that Roald would be our theme for the Mish bash. Not sure if the guests caught onto that...You'd have to be a big super duper fan, but it was a fun little fact for Mark and I when we put all the pieces together. Thank you AMC channel for airing movies with directors' quotes; without which we would have never learned about Roald Dahl Day.

It didn't stop at the wedding, though. We found the Willy Wonka quote on a tree while on our Honeymoon in Maui. Spagic...when spooky and magic make a baby.

23 Thousand Breaths

8.14.2014
I was watching Long Island Medium (guilty pleasure) and a discussion about someone's last breath came up. I took to Google; curious to find out how many breaths we take in a day...in a year...in a lifetime. I'm morbidly inquisitive. Mark didn't even flinch when I told him how many breaths we take a day...he's used to randomly delicious "Rain Man" Tishy.

Apparently we take around 23,000 breaths a day. (More if you workout...so I'll add a thousand extra since I breath like an out-of-shape fool no matter what I do.)

All those breaths wrapped up in beautiful adventures. I'm thankful for all those breaths and all the memories with the friends.


A beautiful day to visit a country music exhibit.


Iconic photography


The heifa avoids the camera like a Kardashian avoids anonymity. 


I don't always see sheep, but when I do I think of best pal, Jenn. 


I heart country music. Well some...not all. The good old stuff. 


Think this might be Mark's first creeper, candid shot of me. I swooned. 


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