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
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