It’s been just over a year since I had my second child. Now it makes sense to me to hear people say “Happy Mother’s Day”, but for the first two years, it was a bit of a surprise to hear this – I’d always think “Who are they talking to? Oh! Me! Yes I suppose I am a mother!” I’m still a beginner at this though; my daughter will be four in a few months, and my little guy is just barely one. This wonderful journey together has just begun for us, and I thank the creator daily for this blessing, no matter what. I cannot begin to describe the ways in which becoming a mother has completely changed everything I know about life, everything I ever thought I knew. If someone had told me five years ago that I’d become fully versed about children, their accessories, poop, eating habits, behavioural peculiarities, culture and interaction specifics, not to mention the parent culture that is attached to becoming a mother, I would have heartily disagreed. There is no way I saw any of this coming, no way.

No one tells you this is going to happen. People mutter about this stuff, they smile and laugh, they titter to themselves and raise their eyebrows provocatively. But no one ever tells you that becoming a mother, or a father for that matter, completely melts your consciousness and requires you to reconfigure everything you ever thought about the world, and yourself, in extremely quick time. Why would they really bother? A parent talking to a non-parent might as well be speaking a different language when it comes to some topics of conversation. The neural connection just isn’t there. The information just doesn’t make any sense until you go through it yourself. When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was a working girl, 100%. I was at the office 50 hours a week right up until the day before I gave birth, and that schedule was cut back from the 60-70 hours I had been putting in before getting pregnant. I was fully entrenched in the workaday world. I lived and breathed my office, my clients and my files. When I went into labour, it was a bit of a shock, and rather than considering what I should be doing for myself and my baby, I was more worried about my boss and my clients and what would happen after I was gone. Needless to say, that level of unconsciousness resulted in my having a Caesarian birth. I was disconnected from my body. I hadn’t prepared for the birth experience. I was really rather stupid, and figured my body would “know what to do”. Now, I realize that while the body is an extremely intelligent creation, there is a very definite mind-body interface that is required for the body to work to its most efficient capacity. We are not basic animals – we are so far away from being able to function on instinct alone, unless we’ve spent an awful lot of time and energy in “de-civilizing” our consciousness. I hate to say it, but the experience I had with the caesarian was probably the worst thing I’ve ever been through in my entire life. I was frightened out of my wits. It was totally unexpected, I hadn’t schooled myself about the possibility, as I had listened to my obstetrician who, at every visit, advised me that I was totally healthy and that delivery would be fine. Well, he was on vacation when I went into labour and I felt like the ground had dropped out from under me, and I ended up unable to labour, feverish and totally exhausted, with my baby in distress and no option in site but a surgical delivery.

With my son, the situation was the complete opposite. I never returned to the crazy work world and chose to become a homemaker, dedicating myself to my family, and my esoteric studies and writing. I was in ashtanga yoga teacher training when I was pregnant with my son, and my body/mind interface was at a high level of sensitivity. I was well rested, well fed and relaxed in my life. I had a home birth with a midwife planned. This was a very radical idea considering that I’d given birth by caesarian first time around, and I had to jump through considerable hoops to follow through on my plan. I was adamant. I will never forget the very surreal meeting that I was required to have with the hospital’s head obstetrician, in which I was seated alone, knee-to-knee with this old, grey, stooped and presumably very knowledgable and experienced doctor, in a meeting the sole purpose of which was to divert me from my intended course. This man threatened me. He tried to put the fear of god into me. He told me nasty stories about things going wrong, and tried to impress upon me that I was putting the life of my unborn child at risk with my foolhardy decision. I knew that if I opted for a hospital birth, the high probability was that because I’d delivered surgically once, they’d prep me and expect me to do so again, which I swore would never happen. I told this venerable doctor that as I was in the care of two senior midwives, authorized by the government of Ontario to practice their craft, and as these two women were firmly in support of my decision to homebirth and saw no reason why I should not do natural homebirth, that I was sticking with my decision. I thanked him for his concern and went on my way. He shook his head gravely all the way and told me to call him if I changed my mind. I was very well behaved that day and I bit my tongue.

The day I went into labour, I was at 38 weeks and I had a check up scheduled for that day. I called and told my midwife that I was in labour and thought I shouldn’t bother coming in. They timed my contractions and told me to come in as I sounded too relaxed. I had laboured alone all day; it was painful, but I breathed through it and kept busy. I made curtains for the bathroom! I organized the back closet and tidied the house in preparation for the midwife and her assistant. I arrived, they checked me and I was 8cm dilated! They began to prepare for the birth there at the office, but I told them I wanted to go home. I was in “the zone”. I was ready to do this, and do it I would. We drove home, the midwife arrived, shortly thereafter my water broke, and two and a half hours later, my son was born. It was the most physical, incredible, uncomfortable, resplendent, personally transcendent, mind-blowing and life altering experience I have ever had. I truly have no words that even come close to describing the joy of that experience. After having given birth like this, I was so profoundly sad that I had not had this experience with my first child, and even more, so incredibly gobsmacked that the medical industry strives tooth and nail to negate this very natural, beautiful and simple experience. Such is life.

I could rant for a very long time about how women are disenfranchised from their own body experiences. I could foam at the mouth about how the medical industry has turned birth into a factory-line, profit driven, mechanized and dehumanised process that pays very little respect to the natural rhythms of women and the very pulse of life itself, but that's for another time and place. We live in a very fast-paced society. There are a lot of dangers associated with life, birth and even, oddly, death. The deeper you scratch, the more you will find out, and much of what you find out, you may just regret, as it is so damn sad it could just break your heart. But the fact is that despite the miseries of life, despite the lies that are perpetrated, the injustices, the desecration and the many varieties of horror on planet Earth, we must all get through this ride somehow or other, and ultimately, we must all do what we can for our own selves to make that journey better. If we can help one another, then so much the better. And further, I do believe that everything happens for a reason, and all occurrences are perfectly in accordance with the evolution, the direction and the destiny of each and every soul. Nothing happens without some reason, and while we often have to endure great hardship, we can always find a teaching and a path forward.

This Mother’s Day has had me remembering things, thinking and searching for a poem I saw when I was pregnant with my son. To prepare myself for labour, I did some art, and in one picture I drew, there was a circle of women holding hands. It was inspired by this poem I had read, which for the life of me I couldn’t find today, but it was a circle of women holding hands, one to the next to the next, and they stretched all around the world. These were mothers of children who had died, mothers who had lost their babies through the cruel turns that life throws at us, and they were holding onto each other and their strength and their love gave them comfort. I drew that circle of women because, in my foolish inexperience, on the threshold of giving birth again, I wanted to have even an iota of the strength that those women had had, carrying and bearing their children, loving them with all their hearts, sacrificing to raise them as best as possible, only to lose them to some sad, sick twist of fate. I wish I could find that poem today to share with you because it was beautiful, but I cannot. But I do wish that today everyone can hold in their thoughts a bit of love and respect for the mothers of this world who suffer through war, through watching their children succumb to illness or accidents and say a prayer for those women and those kids. I also hope that everyone is connecting with their mother present or passed on, their own experience of mothering, and their kids, if they have any. And also, I hope that we can all consider just how small, fragile and completely wonderful this thing is that we have, this life that we live.

Thank you for reading,
Be well everyone!
With much love

Christine is 40 years old (six years older than me).  She has two chilrdren, Kierra and an older daughter from another relationship.

Christine and my husband were never married.

Christine has a pretty good job and has been there for over 18 years. 

Christine has a two year degree in business. 

Christine likes to read.  (I too love to read)

I just found out that Christine likes doing Sudoku puzzles.  (Also one of my favorite things to do.  I like doing the puzzles so much that Husband purchased a Sudoku game for my PSP.)

Christine likes to shop on Ebay.

I hear  that Christine has a nice personality.

On occasion she has been pleasant towards me: 

 She has sent me cards when I was in the hospital. 

She has given me a Christmas gift, twice.  (I have given her a Christmas gift twice).

She has sent me a Happy Mother's Day text once.  (I didn't see that one coming!)

She has sent a Thank You card when I sent her a Mother's Day package  (a book, some aromatherapy candles, a spiritual bookmark, and a card).

Christine speaks on occasion when we see her at Kierra's school functions (most times she doesn't).

These are only a few things about Christine.

1. Remember those blue shoes I bought from the QVC Outlet? Well, I scratched them. You see, I was dancing around and when I jumped off of a footstool my foot hit this picture of Audrey Hepburn that my sister and I got for my mom on Mother's Day. It took me several hours to even notice the scratch, though. It's on the side of the shoe and it's practically impossible to see, so it's all cool.

2. I was watching Spongebob the other day, and this commercial came on. In the beginning of the commercial, there was a shot of the Aggro-Crag (something you would know about if you watched Nickelodeon in the 90's). I was so excited and I screamed, "Oh my GOD!!! They're bringing GUTS back!!!". I immediately flashed to a fantasy of me being at the top of that podium holding a giant, glow-in-the-dark sculpture/trophy/thing:

I was so happy because I love all of those old-school Nickelodeon game shows (Get the Picture, Figure It Out, Double Dare, Double Dare 2000, and the best one: LEGENDS OF THE HIDDEN TEMPLE!!!). Well, thanks a bunch, new-yet-annoying Nickelodeon. Several seconds after my celebration, I get the title of the show: My Family's Got GUTS... Wow, now I get to see Grandma Franny hit the actuators. Whoop-dee-doo...

Also, what are they gonna name the mountain this time? They had the Aggro-Crag, Mega-Crag, Super Aggro-Crag. What's it gonna be this time??? My guess: The Humongo-Crag

3) KanYe West released his new video for 'Good Morning'... and I love it. It's got the KanYe Bear, The 'Back to the Future Delorean', and crazy colors. Finally, all of those pictures on the Graduation album make sense!!!

TAKE THAT, PIXAR!!!! You're not the only ones who can make awesome animations!!!

4) I went to WILDWOOD, NJ! It was a lot of fun. My friend and I hung out at Morey's Piers. We went on water rides all day (too many stairs!!!) The next day, we were completely sore and neither one of us could move.

5) Super Cr3w won America's Best Dance Crew. Yay... I guess.

(If, you don't know why I am so unenthusiastic, read my reaction to Fannie Pak getting kicked off.

6) I'm finishing up my last summer reading book. It's called Lord of Discipline:

I'm just over half-way through the book. I don't know if I'm going to finish it by the time school starts. Luckily, it's a movie, so I can watch that if I don't finish it on time.

7) 16 years old in about a week in a half. I'm studying for a permit, and I just finished a job application about an hour ago. I'm more excited about driving than anything. I've been on vehix.com and cars.com like it's nobody's business. And I've already picked out my bumper stickers (I like to plan ahead...)

Well, that's about it. I'll put up another post if I find something that's new and post worthy. And again, sorry I haven't really been on Wordpress...

And now for a random picture.

I googled "geruit". This is what I got:

Apparently, geruit is a pattern of fabric. It's like... a collaboration between plaid and checker. Hm..

When I left for work this morning, the house looked like a viking raid had just passed through.  Dirty breakfast dishes everywhere, cereal crunching underfoot, wet towels on beds, and assorted shoes all over the mudroom floor that "just don't go" with the outfits chosen the night before.

The debris of a hasty, haphazard exit.

But I am happy.  Deliriously happy, in that zen, post-coital, nothing-can-possibly-ruin-this-moment way. 

My life will have order again. 

I spit on that day in May.  THIS is the true mother's day.

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There was a young man, before he was a Muslim; he lived with his mother until he was about 18 years old. Then he moved out of his home and lived in a different place on his own. During those days, he met some Muslims and became very close friend to them. Eventually he himself became a Muslim after learning about the beautiful religion of Islam from them. He made an effort every day to learn more and more about Islam.

One day, he came to learn about the benefits of being good to one’s parents. After knowing this, he decided to visit his mother whom he did not visit for many years. He bought some flowers and fruits for her on his way. His mother was very pleased to see him after so long. He started spending lots of time with his mother on a regular basis. During his visits, he would stare at his mother and tears would roll down from his eyes. The mother noticed this happening many times and asked him one day the reason, why he visits her so much all of a sudden and why he cries. He told her about how he became a Muslim and that the position of a mother in Islam is very high.

He also told her about the reward he gets for looking at her.

But while looking at her, he cries because the mother is not a Muslim and would not be able to save herself if she dies in this state. The mother immediately recognized the beauty of Islam and became a Muslim.

There is a great deal of love and respect for mothers in Islam. Over 1400 years ago, one of the companions of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) asked him who the most deserving person of his kindness and his companionship was.

The Prophet (p) said, “Your mother.”
The man asked, “Then whom?”
He said, “Your mother.”
The man asked for the third time, “Then whom?”
The Prophet (p) said, “Your mother.”
The man asked for the fourth time, “Then whom?”
The Prophet (p) said “Your father.”

Actually, it has been a long time since I last dined @ Pizza Hut. If I'm not wrong, the last time I have it was in Bangkok...that was abt 2 yrs ago.

On the whole, we really enjoyed our tonight's dinner @ Pizza Hut...My mom loved it and so did my playful nephew. Personally, I think the foods in Pizza Hut are still Ok la...Haha. Actually, I should have ordered my pizza to be a pan pizza instead of a crispy thin pizza. For me, I think the pan pizza will taste more munchy than a crispy one. Perhaps more healthy oso? As for my mom, 'cos she dunno abt the availability of the various types of crust hence she thot the reason for the thin crust which we have for our pizza is due to the fact that Pizza Hut is cutting costs, thus reducing the quantity of the crust...HAHA. What a typical AUNTIE's thinkings. After an hr of dinner, we then strolled back home.

P/S: Total bill for tonight's dinner = S$44.61.

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P/S: This blog entry was 1st published on 11 May 2008 @ 6:02 PM. Reposted on 26 August 2008.

Anyhow, the reason I remember the month of May is because its the sunrise and sunset of my mother's lifespan. I was truly missing her around Mothers Day, so I'd penned an impromptu ditty in her honor which I was sure she'd have loved...

Today, I find that it published on this particular poetry site& voted the poet's choice...I'm surprised because I haven't had the pleasure of being informed of such an honor, nor, have I received any aformentioned winning...so, I'm oddly pleased to see a tribute to my mama online for the world to see, yet, I'm perplexed that the editors haven't bothered to inform me...the poet.

~A Vase or Basket of Mom’s Favorite flowers module be a recognize surprise. Lilies, Roses and Orchids are especially favourite for Mother’s Day. Ask your topical store for fictive suggestions supported on your Mom’s selection patterned difference and/or colors.

~A Green or Blooming Plant crapper be delivered with your "Happy Mother’s Day" message. A nonfunctional gesture crapper be additional for that primary touch. Fresh Cut Flowers crapper also be additional to a naturalised heritage for an player slush of color.

~A Floral Centerpiece crapper be created meet for "Mom" to particular her plateau of homecooked meals she is so famous for! Centerpieces crapper modify be fashioned with a lamp as an player object for Mother’s Day.

~Fruit/Gourmet Baskets substance Mom whatever toothsome treats in a nonfunctional basket. Consider sending Mom whatever primary Teas, Coffees, Cookies, Chocolates or some Gourmet treats. Ask your topical store most the some toothsome options acquirable for Gift Baskets.

Consider sending your Grandmother a patterned heritage on Mother’s Day as well! Mother’s Day is a amend period to fete some blackamoor in your chronicle that you take and respect; Your Wife, Your Grandmother, Your Daughter, Your Stepmother, Your Mother-In-Law. One test note, Mother’s Day is a laboring patterned holiday. We declare arrangement your patterned heritage a some life primeval to secure opportune conveying for Mom’s Special Day!

Remember to visit your patterned heritage from a actual topical florist. Don't clear a distributer to beam your flowers. You module ever intend a meliorate continuance and assist when handling direct with a professed florist.

Happy Mother's Day!

Tenley McDonald- Former Florist- Now Co-Owner of http://www.flowerpowernetwork.com (Online Directory of Real Local Florists) Ms. McDonald has over 14 eld undergo in ~Consumer Relations/Marketing ~Customer Service Management ~Floral Design.

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Chris Morris – Mother Banger

A tender ode to the matriarch. A loving verse, a kind word. The mother figure is celebrated and deified, an unbeatable, incorruptible form providing solace and support, tea spillage and use of the word “pantaloons” not withstanding. She doesn’t even mind the Hispanic section, or the rather loud guitars. But why oh why did she “gum” a “weapon?” What does it even mean? Firearms aren’t common place in the British nuclear family surely?  Think you’ll sneak guns into our pantries do you Morris? You can’t. You don’t have our address. Bet you don't even have a mother. Nonsense.

Where do you think you are? In America?

Some men believe its a pain in the ass for women to want equal rights. Hell, my mama raised five kids on her own after my drunken, abusive father left. He broke her nose twice and nearly killed me. She didn't have time to think about being a feminist. She was just a poor woman trying to survive in our society.

She sure as hell didn't expect to be raising us on her own. She did have to go on welfare, food stamps and student aid to get her nursing degree. She was a damned welfare mom. She worked full time at night and went to school full-time during the day. We didn't see much of her for four years.

She couldn't find a boyfriend that wanted to marry a woman with five kids. She got a job after four years on welfare and supported us. She died at the age of 45 from leukemia. I think it was pure exhaustion.

After I repeated the circle of violence and married an abusive man, I too left and became a damned welfare mom. I too collected food stamps and received aid to go to college. My two daughters were on Medicaid. After two years on welfare, I too got a job and tried to support my family. The whopping $200 a month in child support really didn't help much. Especially since daycare was $100 a week. My job paid $38,000. It sucked. I had a nervous breakdown. I didn't have any family around to help me. My mom, dad, grandmother and grandfather were dead. I couldn't afford to stay home when my youngest was sick and daycare wouldn't accept her either. I was always getting in trouble at work because I'd have to leave because something was going on with one of the girls from ear infections to head-lice.

I sure as hell wasn't thinking about being a feminist during all that hell. I was thinking about surviving.

Now that I do have time to think about being a feminist, I think I am. I'm a feminist and I believe in equal rights for everyone. I'm thankful to have married a good man and am enjoying getting to know what goodness is.

Sincerely,

Angela Hayden

Yesterday, my friend Gianna and I were shopping for greeting cards and she said that no one reads them. Is this true? Do people only buy cards so that they won't have to put money directly in hand? I always read cards, and I happen to write poignant messages, so I hope people read them!

Do you read cards, or just toss them to the side? And how long do you keep them? I have a nice little collection going, which grew out of my gnawing fear that my boss from two years ago will e-mail me asking if I still have the card she gave me on my last day.

So I guess now you know that I can't get rid of my old magazines or greeting cards!

But I'm going to write about Mother's Day. 

Because I have never understood the kinds of Mother's Day gifts solemnly presented at churches.  

I admit I have been to only a handful of churches over the years, and yes, stereotyping can be dangerous.  That aside, I have found myself puzzled, even annoyed, by those gifts.  Memo pad (things-to-do list, that is).  Refrigerator magnet. Dish towel (!!).  I'm not a feminist (though I have contributed a chapter to a feminist textbook used worldwide) who would go on and on about gender bias; and I'm polite and mature enough (well, at least, most of the time) to smile serenely and act delighted like most other mothers.  And no, I will not throw them away.  To this day, I continue to use the floral memo pad, and the magnet should remain on the fridge door as long as my daughter hasn't removed it, turning it into a toy.  But I don't know where the dish towel went ----perhaps because I hate doing the dishes.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm keenly aware that those are well-intentioned gifts within the church's limited budget.  And I can even envision a group of men (I assume) venturing out to the mall, in their earnest search.  So I wouldn't say that a gift like Channel lipstick would be far more appreciated ---though I admit I wouldn't mind receiving one.  (Mauve is my favorite, by the way.)  Undoubtedly, that type of gift would help enhance the church attendance rate, too.

But what bothers me more --far more-- than those gifts is a typical Mother's Day sermon linking maternal love to God's love.  (OK, I should delete the word, "typical"; I certainly hope not all ministers preach that way.) I have no idea how many mothers actually have "unconditional" love for their children.  A mother who drives her son diligently to his SAT prep course after school may secretly dream of the day when an acceptance letter from an Ivy League school arrives in their mailbox; by expecting him to shine in the limelight, she very well could be striving to live vicariously through his accomplishments.  Accordingly, she might find herself devastated if her son, after all the money spent on his prep school and prep course, decides againt attending college and opt for the military instead--even if that path will make him happier. 

This is just one example.  I recall one achingly honest and thought-provoking essay from Newsweek several years ago, published shortly after a Texas mother murdered her own five children.  The author powerfully dispelled the "sweet motherhood" myth, which I could have cited here, but unfortunately, I no longer have the copy.  She, too, was quick to express her disgust  with the "mother's love is close to God's love" rhetoric. 

Mothers are not apron-clad angelic figures.  We, too, are weak, self-centered creatures grappling with our own imperfections day by day.  Don't give us the sugar-coated version of motherhood.

In honour of soccer moms, business moms and last-minute Mother's Day shoppers, the government suspended the usual vehicle restrictions. The day also prompted President Oscar Arias to pardon a mother who had been serving an eight-year prison for funneling drugs into prison, which she claimed she did to feed her children.

Since it has already passed back home in Canada, I was honoured twice by my husband and two little ones, who surprised me this morning with a new umbrella after one of the three we brought was lost. My husband also cooked up pancakes with syrup, a pleasant break from the usual brown eggs, which each day get a little easier to swallow.

By coincidence, a package also arrived from my own mother, some important documents that weren't ready  prior to our departure.

The occasion and the package made me nostalgic, longing for a lazy afternoon at the farm with my parents, especially my mom. Thinking of her, and our journey here in Costa Rica, resurrected fond memories of my own childhood and my desire to be the kind of mom to my kids that my own was to me.

Like so many mothers of her generation, my mom made many sacrifices, giving us all of herself to provide a home rich with love and attention. She baked cookies, sewed Halloween costumes and slipped special 'I love you' notes into the lunches she packed for school each day.

During my preteen years, my mom ferried me be back and forth to friends' houses when hanging out with her became an embarrassment, like it does for most kids at that age. She survived my teenage rebellion and forgave all the times I told her I hated her.

As a young adult, my mom supported my decision to attend university 1,000 kilometres from home and sent me money to help pay the rent during the times I overspent on drinks at the bar.

She never once critcized my many bad choices in boyfriends and helped picked up the pieces of the broken heart each one left behind.

When I got hired for my first professional job she took me shopping and bought me new clothes. And when I got fired, she told me not to worry, that another job would come along.

As usual, she was right. And as my career took off, my mom was my biggest cheerleader, sending clippings of even the most trivial news stories that I wrote to my grandmother to share with the extended family.

My mom is simply the best mom in the world and gave me the tools to raise my own children, who don't get near as much of me as I did of her.

And despite taking away her beloved grandchildren for an entire year, my mom never once asked us not to go -- even as the tears rolled down her cheeks when we said our goodbyes.

So mom, Feliz Dia de la Madre.

There ought to be a national holiday for you.

I was reading Sara Ruddick's Maternal Thinking: Toward a Politics of Peace  just before mother's day later the thai national mother awards really turned maternal mentality to promote those who raised children to to fight and die for the state. It would be common to other state, too. I did not know whether the other states will have awards for mother who raised sons to be fighters on mother's day like this. Women and men alike were told that if our ancestors did not fight and die for this land there will not be a place to live. This year, the caring and peace loving mentality would be transfered to bitter pride of losing sons to the state.

On the other hand, maternal thinking was promoted in the south as  feminity was constructed to be forgiving and peaceful, particularly after experiencing common loss of their  sons, husbands, brother or fathers and relatives, reports of women asking for peace on behalf of lost lives and new lives of their children were also promoted.

Some of national mother award recipients are mothers of soldiers and policeofficers as if to raised a son to be willing to "sacrifice" to kill and be killed and participatd in violence on  behalf of the state is an honour. Meanwhile, a mother would also be held responsible by state if the children directed violence to somewhere the state did not desire. An anynynous mother of GTA immitator who murdered a taxi driver would be lumped together as those who did not raise their children well so that they cause problem to the society. If the young ma had directed the violence to enemies of the state, the mother and children would be some kind of national hero/ heroine. 

 Had maternal thinking is natural and embeded, it would be conflicting for mothers to see their children participating in violence of any kinds. Sometimes maternal thinking is white washed and watered down and meanings of violence are altered to be heroic actions so that we have mothers that support certain violent activities. State maternal thinking can be resumed, given that policing and killing people in the south of thailand or anywhere isnot defined as violence but a glorious duties, praised by the national mother.

On Mother's day, children buy jasmine garlands for their mothers and present her with the flowers as a symbol of their respect and gratitude for her. Also, the children make promises to their mothers of how they will be good children, study hard and be well behaved. Many schools have Mother's Day activities on August 11th where mother's go to the school in order to receive the gifts that their children made for them and the jasmine garland. On August 12th, all schools and many government offices are closed.

This cake recipe is actually called chocolate butter cake, but I also added walnuts, left over from my delicious carrot cake, and a strawberry filling. For the filling, I mixed low sugar red raspberry jam, mascarpone cheese, and homemade heavy whipped cream. The chocolate icing was from the store, but I diluted with some low-fat milk; otherwise it's too sweet. This cake was very good, but since I used a pan that has a heart shape in the middle, it was quite difficult to flip to top with filling. It was heavy and I had a bit of an accident; you can see that the top of the cake is not perfect. However, the taste was more then perfect!!!

What kinds of attributes or characteristics could your child have indicating they are intuitively sensitive or psychic?

Although there are varying behavior patterns and sensitivities your child may have based on their personality style and temperament, there are some key signs which may indicate your child is sensitive to one or more of the following- their environment, emotional energy or the people around them either in the physical world or the dimensional world (this refers to ghosts, angels, deceased loved ones, spirits..etc).  So what can you look for to determine the sensitive nature of your child?

If your child:

• Tells you he has an invisible friend and has regular interactions with this friend(s).
• Prefers to wear the least amount of clothing allowed in a given situation.  Often takes off socks and shoes and prefers to be barefoot.
• Loves to wear cozy PJ's or likes to be surrounded by lots of blankets and/ or stuffed animals.
• Becomes irritable after being around large groups of people.  Often a sensitive child will act out behaviorally or be extremely emotional (may even seem depressed) after school.
• Is relatively harmonious, but if one too many buttons are pushed has a surge of emotion that can be hurtful if used on a sibling or friend.
• Feels the pain of another person or for the death of an animal.  A sensitive child has a tremendous amount of compassion for humanity and the earth.

These are a few of the most common ways a parent can recognize the intuitive nature of their child.  On August 20th, via a podcast, I will share these and many more tips for recognizing the sensitive nature of intuitive children.