As a teenager I would stand at my bedroom mirror with a copy of Seventeen magazine propped up so I could see step-by-step how to style my hair with one of their umpteen “Get Gorgeous” or “Hot Hair” tutorials. I’m not sure why I remember one issue in particular.  Maybe it’s because  I spent a great deal of time modeling my ‘do after a model’s in that issue.  Alicia Silverstone was on the cover.

Ah!  There it is.  Thanks Google.

July, 1995.  That would have been a month before my 14th birthday and two months before I started high school.  I bet I had watched reruns of MTV Spring Break that day.  I wonder if I logged on to my America Online account that morning before ballet class?  Probably.  I no doubt took magazine quizzes to find out my dating style, even though I had never been on an actual date.  Basically, I was at the height of my adolescent insecurity and unknowingly headed straight for full-on teen angst and a diagnosed eating disorder in another year-and-a-half.

I think I remember trying for something new that summer.  I was headed for a new school, high school, so obviously a new hairstyle was in order.  No matter how many times I pulled my turquoise and magenta paddle brush through my hair, I couldn’t get it just right.  I would frown and say something to my reflection like, “Ugh!  I hate my hair!”  I slammed the magazine shut and stared at Alicia Silverstone in all her mid-nineties coolness.

Whenever the issue of beauty magazines and women’s body image comes up, I think of that issue of Seventeen.

Fast-forward 17 years to the other night.  I went through the Health and Fitness part of Pinterest to get some inspiration for working out and shedding a few holiday pounds.  Later, I stood at the bathroom mirror with my iPad propped against the mirror, trying to do my hair like a woman in a Pinterest hair tutorial.  I stared at my 31-year-old reflection, getting further frustrated that I suck at elegant loose fishtail braids.  Instantly Alicia Silverstone popped in my mind.  I looked at myself and shook my head loose of my attempted braid.

I thought of my two-year-old daughter and my pledge to not obsess over weight and appearance.  Yeah, I weigh more now than I ever have now that I have a desk job, but I’m healthy.  My husband and I  decided awhile ago not to describe people as “fat”, “skinny”, “chunky”, or “chubby” around our daughter there’s really no reason for it.

Just then she came in.  She was giggling and proudly showing me her full belly after dinner.  I closed my Pinterest app and scooped her up.  I said to her.  “Charlotte, you are so beautiful!  You have a beautiful, strong, healthy body.  Do you love your body?”  She smiled and said, “Ya! Lob my bodee!”  I smiled and instantly dismissed all the negative things I think about my appearance.  Whether it was 1995 Seventeen magazine or 2013 Pinterest, it seemed silly and I scaled back my weight loss resolutions.  I said “Mama loves her body too!”

When my due date came and went and I was still pregnant, I lost my mind.  I seriously read EVERYTHING about inducing labor naturally.  Foods, sex, bouncing on an exercise ball, walking, Evening Primrose Oil, you name it.  I was a woman on a mission.  I was HAVING this baby within the week.  41 weeks suddenly became a very long time.  There was one thing that I did that I never wrote about here.  Today, I found myself talking to my pregnant coworker and I had flashbacks.

I did two acupuncture sessions to try to induce labor.

October 2010. I’m starting to forget I ever looked like this.

I checked with the OB who gave me the all clear.  I think her exact words were, “‘It can’t hurt.  Tell me how it works for you.”  I think whoever answered the phones at these two acupuncture places could hear the exhaustion and exasperation in my voice when I begged them for appointments.  When I got to the first place I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork.  I think I ended up just paying for it instead of filing insurance claim forms to see if my PPO would cover it.  I was too tired to care.

At one of the places I got to lay on this massage table that had a net cut out of the middle of it so my belly could hang down and I could lay on my stomach.  Heaven!  It was AMAZING!  Anyone 7-9 months pregnant should get to lay on one of those.  Ahhhh!

It was what happened at the first place that was the most…um…moving.  The guy told me about all the spots on the body where they would put needles.  He explained there were certain acupuncture locations for labor induction.  The places were on my hands and my ankles.  It only hurt a little.  He attached little electrodes to them and turned on the machine.  My muscles twitched and my skin stung.  The baby stirred.   I asked him to turn it down a bit.  He did and left the room.

Ugh!  Oh no.  A wave of nausea came over me.  Keep in mind I went 40 weeks without throwing up.  Not once.  I was queasy in the First Trimester, for sure, but never puked.  I sure wasn’t going to let it happen now.  I yelled, “Um!  Excuse me!”  Thankfully the doctor wasn’t too far away and rushed in.  “I need to go to the bathroom!”  He unplugged me.  Fortunately I made it on time to poop.  (Why I got nauseous I’ll never know.) The acupuncturist enthusiastically told me this was good and that my energy was headed downward.

No shit.

Wait, no.  Yes shit.

The only needle that induced labor for me was the one attached to the IV of Pitocin a week later.

Yes, this is a resolution post.  It’s January 2nd for pete’s sake!  It was either write this blog post or go to the gym where I would have to wait an hour for an elliptical machine.  “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”  So let’s just go with it, shall we?

I heard it said recently that “goals not written down are just wishes.” So true!  Some of my goals for 2013 are very personal, others mundane.  I won’t bother you with them here, but I wrote them down elsewhere.  I’m not wishing 2013 away.  “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”  (Wait, I’m starting to think that reference too 2012.  You think?)

Anyway, I read a lot of blogs today about resolutions, or choosing a single word that describes a theme for the year 2013.  I’ve come up with my word.

Question

Yep, as in asking questions.  Instead of resolutions, I’m asking questions.  Everyday I will ask myself this series of questions.  I made most of them open ended.  For example, I’m not going to ask myself, “Did you eat healthy today?’  But, instead I will ask, “What healthy food choices did you make today.”  It forces me to think about my decisions.  Here is my list of daily questions for 2013.

• What did you thank God for in your prayers today?
• What did you do today to show Greyson and Charlotte you love and appreciate them?
• When did you pet the dog?
• What did you do at work that accomplished a task or showed leadership?
• What step did you take to make your blog better?
• How many blogs did you comment on today?
• What healthy foods did you eat?
• How did you get exercise today?
• What junk did you get out of your car?

Is this a good idea?  Do you think I can do it?  Should I add to this list?  What questions are you asking  yourself in 2013?

Is that Garth Brooks song in your head yet?  Sorry.  It just came to me since, you know, the world could end tomorrow.

Of course I jest.  I don’t really think the apocalypse is tomorrow.  I mean, Jesus wouldn’t let the end of times come so close to his birthday, right?

If it does end it’s okay, I’ve had a pretty good run.  I got to thinking about all the cool stuff I always wanted to do and have done already.  I’m going chronologically here.  Here’s a list of the things I’ve done that I really wanted to accomplish from childhood onward:

• Figured out Santa Claus
• Did a split
• Made it through Middle School & High School without braces
• Went to prom (This was one of Beth Anne’s goal too, so I don’t feel as dumb saying this was a life goal of mine at one point. Actually, this whole post was inspired by her.)
• Lost my virginity (Not on the same night)
• Danced a solo en pointe
• Went to the top of the Eiffel Tower
• Defeated an eating disorder
• Rode on a convertable when I was on the homecoming court
• Went to college
• Went to Spring Break
• Saw my sister initiated into our sorority
• Spent New Year’s Eve in Times Square (It sucks.  Don’t do it.)
• Got a degree
• Bought a new car and paid it off myself
• Had a dog that truly loved me and I loved back (Long story. I wasn’t really an animal person for a long time. The dogs always loved my sister best.)
• Highlighted my hair
• Fell in love with an amazing man
• Got engaged
• Planned a kick-ass wedding
• Got married
• Read the entire Harry Potter series- twice
• Went skydiving
• Was Matron of Honor at my sister’s wedding
• Became a TV news reporter
• Anchored newscasts
• Got pregnant
• Had a baby
• Became a mother
• Laughed until my stomach hurt

Here’s the thing.  There is still SO MUCH that I want to do.  If we’re all still here tomorrow, this is the stuff I still want to do.  This is not chronological.

• Have another baby
• Start vlogging on Somebody’s Parents
• Get a blog facelift/makeover
• Go to the Harry Potter theme park
• See Madonna perform live (Yes, I know she’s on tour and I missed it.  I’m not happy about it.)
• See my sister become a mother
• Become a published author
• Run a 5k race (Not a walk/fun run like I did at BlogHer ’12, an actual timed race.)
• Write for other websites/blogs
• Climb a volcano
• Go to the Great Wall of China
• Live abroad
• Send my children to college
• Learn to play the “Peanuts” song on the piano
• See my children get married
• Go back to Costa Rica with Greyson
• Cut my hair short
• Wear a bikini after age 40
• Take surfing lessons
• Adopt a dog and name it after a Harry Potter character
• Read Charlotte’s Web with my daughter
• Read Harry Potter with my daughter
• Raise a ton of money for charity
• See my children accomplish their life goals
• Go to my 2-year-old’s class Christmas party tomorrow.

How did you hear about Friday’s tragedy?  Where were you when you heard?  These days there’s a good chance you saw it on Twitter, or Facebook. Maybe you got a push notification on your phone?  You probably discussed it with coworkers in disbelief.  You probably kept checking CNN.com through the day.  If you were home, I bet you turned on the TV.  If you had a TV in your office or wherever you were, I bet you watched it.  The online updates are one thing, but to watch it unfold live on camera is another.

As a former news person, I have been so angry reading comments on Facebook and Twitter.  Everyone wants to blast the media for their coverage of the Newtown, CT shooting.

All the information we got was from the news media.  It came fast, every gruesome, unthinkable fact.  Every image you saw was from their cameras.  I may have missed it, but I didn’t see any cell phone video of this disaster.  Who would want to take a picture of that?!  They are children!

I can promise you the news media didn’t want to take pictures of that either.  They had to.  It was their job.  It’s the job of a TV news photographer and reporter to get facts and video as quickly as possible.  Sometimes it comes so fast, facts get mixed up and wires get crossed.  I wasn’t on this scene, but I used to be a reporter on the scene of terrible things.  This was much worse than anything I ever saw in person, but I know the chaos.  I understand the chaos that went on in every newsroom in America on Friday.  In panic, stress and grief sometimes a well-meaning police spokesperson or hasty reporter might mix up something like the names of the suspect and his brother.  Again, I wasn’t there so I don’t know all the circumstances, but let me assure you law enforcement and that reporter REALLY want to get the facts right and will quickly correct themselves.  They could be  fired for not doing so.

Let me be clear that I believe NOTHING a news person endured that day was anywhere near the traumatic experience of the victims and their families.  I would never imply that, but like first responders, clergy and educators, news people have had a lousy, stressful few days too.  

In chaos and urgency to get information, they may interview a child or a crying teacher.  They have to.  They have to tell the story.  It was the children and teachers who were witness to the story unfolding.  You can’t MAKE anyone give you an interview.  No one made that brave, tearful teacher describe the terrifying moments she spent comforting a class of elementary kids.  They interviewed a kid at the scene.  It appeared to me that the child was with a parent.  I’ve read the criticism of the media, saying they should not interview kids after a tragedy.  If you don’t want your kid interviewed, don’t let them be interviewed.  It is the journalist’s job to ask for an interview.  It is the parent’s job to grant or deny that permission.  It is up to the parent to determine what the child can handle.  If the child is further traumatized after being interviewed, that blame lies with the parent, not the reporter.

I don’t know if I would have let my child be interviewed.  I suppose I would have to follow my gut after assessing her emotions in that moment.  Let me assure you reporters and photographers in Newtown were also thinking of their children.  Like the police officers, EMT’s, clergy, medical examiners and all the other people working on the scene, they probably longed to run home to their little ones too.  I even saw a rare glimpse of a reporter getting emotional during her live shot.

I know this is hard right now.  I know everyone is grieving.  The news media is an easy scapegoat because they are in your face and on all the time.  Let me promise you that people in the news media are not all ratings-hungry animals.  Everyday they are forced to walk the fine line between journalism and sensationalism.  Sometimes it’s a small space between story telling and exploitation.

I’m talking about news people here.  The people reporting the news, not the pundits sounding off about restricting gun rights, or vehemently defending the 2nd Amendment.  I’m not even going there.  I’m talking about the journalists doing their job.

The coverage I saw was done with respect and dignity.  The news media I saw corrected misinformation quickly and scrambled to get facts to the public as soon as possible.  After that, they got reaction and followed up on the story in the best way they knew how.  They limited use of the suspect’s name and worked to pay tribute to the victims.  Let me tell you, it SUCKS to stand outside the funeral of a child.  All the video I saw was across the street, away from the mourners during the first few funerals today.  I heard interviews with first responders and family members conclude with the interviewee thanking the reporter for doing this story justice.

I applaud the journalists I’ve seen covering this story this week.  I know you want to pack up that live truck and race home to your own babies.  I also know you understand that this story is bigger than you and your cold fingers and looming deadline.  Good luck.  Hang in there.  Not all of America thinks you are evil.  We know the real evil was in the actions that took the lives of the victims.

If you don’t want to hear about the story anymore, turn the TV off.  Don’t criticize journalists for doing their work.