duck dynasty, matt walsh & free speech 101

Apparently, I'm a "left-wing extremist." And/or a member of the "neo-liberal thought police." I don't really think of myself that way, but according to the Matt Walsh Blog, anyone who doesn't agree with his angry ramblings regarding the recent Duck Dynasty debacle is just that. So there ya go. Learn somethin' new every day. Good thing we're not in the McCarthy era or you'd be blacklisted just for reading this Commie Blog. 

So. I've never seen the show "Duck Dynasty." But I know it's very popular and I'm sure "Phil" and "Kay" and the rest of the bearded crew are swell. I am basically just responding, admittedly in knee jerk fashion, to what I feel to be a rather misguided blog post by Matt Walsh that has been making the rounds in the ether. Not to knock the guy. I've read some of his stuff before and though he sounds like a bit... how shall i say... hyperbolic, at times, he seems intelligent and well spoken and on occasion makes some points I agree with.* But anti-gay rhetoric really chaps my hide, especially when couched in terms of Jesus/God/The Bible. I just think it is a hot, steaming load of crap. I have close family and friends who are gay, lesbian, trans, and this issue affects me on a personal level. It hurts my stomach and it hurts my heart.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have spent portions of my life being incredibly distrustful of, if not outright hostile to, organized religion. There are many reasons for this, which I'm not going to get into here. But I've come around. These days, I try to take more of a live and let live approach. This article really resonated with me and my own experience as an agnostic, or at least, an unconventional believer. On a personal level, we need to go beyond "tolerance," to seek compassion, understanding, kindness, and love for one-another, regardless of our backgrounds and beliefs. We should all be able to believe what we want to believe, and act in the ways that we think are good and right and true, so long as our beliefs and actions don't infringe on the rights of others to do the same. THAT, for me, is where the rubber hits the road. And I'm not saying it's a perfectly defined line. It gets messy and I'm not claiming to have all of the answers. But even though he claims to, this Matt Walsh guy doesn't, either. [Note, while this post in particular really got me riled up, I don't mean to single him out as the only swill merchant on the internet. I read what he wrote, and I became enraged, and I have forbidden myself from conducting further google searches for "duck dynasty free speech" for fear my effing head will explode.]

Anyway. Read the post, or else this isn't going to make very much sense. Or don't. I will summarize. Apparently, Phil Robertson, the patriarch of Duck Dynasty, was interviewed in GQ and said homosexuality was a sin, referenced the infamous slippery slope to bestiality, and, for good measure, argued that blacks in the South during the Jim Crow era were "happy." In the same sermon on sin, he waxed poetic on the... er... spatial benefits of vaginal versus anal sex. A&E indefinitely suspended Robertson for his comments. Walsh claims that A&E "committed suicide," and proceeds to lambaste the network for hating the Bible, hating Christians, standing against free speech and against the views of a majority of humanity (p.s., i don't know if Gallup has polled all of humanity, but a majority of Americans actually support "gay rights" (sarcastic/smart-ass quotations in original)).

Now look. I have family members who say shit ten times worse than this duck dude during regular dinner conversation, and I usually just zip my lips, nod, smile, and start to drink heavily. I'm not saying I wouldn't sit down for a meal with the guy, or treat him with respect, or let him tell me stories and show me pictures of his grand kids. I believe that these types of attitudes are usually borne from ignorance, not evil or hatred. We do not spring forth from the womb with our biases and bigotry intact - that is learned behavior. I would certainly attempt, as I would with any fellow human, to find some thread of  understanding and connection. 

But that's not the issue here.

The real rub for me is how this guy is being painted as a poster boy for Free Speech and Christianity. Some Congressman called him "The Rosa Parks of our generation." You have GOT to be f*cking kidding me. Look, I'm no lawyer... oh wait, that's right, I am a lawyer. In that case, let me provide a quick primer. "Free Speech" under the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States protects individual citizens from governmental intrusion upon free speech. (There are plenty of exceptions, including hate speech, but we won't get into that here.) And Duck Dude has that right. He is free to publicly denounce homosexuality-cum-bestiality [no pun intended] and male [not female?] prostitution and anal sex [with a man, no mention of whether or not it's cool with your wife?] and all that other sinny stuff until his face turns blue. Just like Paula Deen, Richie Incognito, and Don Imus have the right to go stand on the street corner and preach their prejudices to the world. In the words of Jon Stewart, you have the right to say idiotic shit. I also like how my uncle puts it: "The First Amendment protects your right to be an asshole. It's up to your parents to raise you not to be." (And again. I'm not necessarily saying they're bad people. I wouldn't know. I haven't met them. Why do I feel like I'm talking to my kids? You're not a bad boy. This is just bad behavior.)

But just like the Food Network, the Miami Dolphins, CBS, or any other employer -- A&E has the right to reprimand, suspend, or fire his ass. I'm not saying it was necessarily a good call. I don't know. I haven't heard both sides of the story, nor seen how it's all going to play out. I'm just saying, it's their prerogative. As Robyn Pennacchia of Death and Taxes writes, "As far as I know, no one has a constitutional right to a reality show about their life."

Bottom line. Phil Robertson is in a legally binding contract with A&E. He is, for all intents and purposes, their employee, and a de facto representative of their network. I haven't read the contract, but it probably says something along the lines of "A&E can terminate your contract for whatever reason they damn well please, including but not limited to, spouting off at the mouth in a manner they feel affects the public's perception of their network and/or their bottom line." Now. Maybe, as Matt Walsh suggests, A&E has gravely misjudged public reaction to this type of thing, a la Chik-Fil-A. Maybe Ducky McDuckerson fan clubs will be sprouting up left and right, and FX network will snatch that gold mine of a show up so fast it'll make A&E's head spin. But. Just because they made a [potentially poor] business decision to publicly disapprove of Duck Dynamo's anti-gay rhetoric does not mean that they are anti-Christian [I'll leave aside the question of how a corporation is capable of "hating" anything or anyone]. That, along with this "Free Speech except for Christians" BS, is just specious nonsense intended to inflame people who don't know any better.

I'm not even going to entertain the notion that this guy is somehow being "persecuted" for his "religious beliefs." (Two can play the snarky quotes game.) The man was being interviewed by GQ magazine, and, in the context of his religious beliefs vis-a-vis homosexuality-as-sin, he describes in detail how a female vagina is infinitely more accommodating than a male anus. I'm sorry, but please, I dare you to take that shit to court. 

Walsh did make a valid(ish) point about A&E supposedly defending some moral high ground ("gay rights") while simultaneously peddling swill every other hour of the day (hoarders, housewives, trophy wives, whatever). But I could make the same general argument (i.e. hypocrisy) about Christians. Walsh accuses A&E of "hating Christians who have the audacity to believe the entire Bible, rather than just a few segments that pass the modern PC litmus test." I know an awful lot of Christians, and I have yet to meet a single one who follows the Bible to the letter. I've gone down Leviticus road before so I won't go into too much detail here, but you know what I mean. No one is spewing mouth sewage, penning vitriolic blog posts, and defending their constitutional right to publicly denounce divorcees, bacon-eaters, tattoos, premarital sex, etc.... This is a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black. Not just because Christians often cherry pick their biblical commandments in the same way that A&E prioritizes its PR messaging. But because, at the end of the day, isn't Christianity supposed to be about love and forgiveness? "Love the sinner, hate the sin?" The notion that I either have to hate gay people and what they stand for, or hate God/Christians/Christianity, is just absolutely absurd to me!* Not to mention, completely counter to my understanding of what that God and Christianity are all about. Where is the LOVE, people?!?!

Oh, also, one other small issue. When Jesus died, did he make you the sheriff of scripture? Why do people act like it is their personal mission in life to eradicate the world of sin? Why don't you just handle your own shit and let me and The Gays and God work it out amongst ourselves? 

Along the lines of using the Bible as cannon fodder in the quote-unquote-gay-rights debate, check out this interesting old post on CNN's Belief Blog about how the Bible was used to support both slavery and abolitionism. The point being, you can probably use the Bible in favor of just about any argument you want to make. That doesn't mean that you should. 

* I take back what I was going to say about this guy being reasonable and intelligent after seeing this post on his FB page:

What a douche box.

Sincerely,

The Christian-hating, left-wing-extremist-thought-police-Nazi (Matt Walsh definition), otherwise known as a normal human who has a whole slew of super christian family that she loves and respects, but also doesn't like when people disparage the lifestyle of her gay brother and family and friends in the name of religion.

The End.

Psyche! Sorry for getting political. I know I'm not saying anything earth shattering to people who already agree with me, and I'm not going to change the minds of the people who don't, so basically this was just a big fat waste of my time, but hey, since when has that ever stopped me?! ;)

On a lighter note - two of my favorite funny guys on the subject:

and this.

Googliography:

The Matt Walsh Blog - Dear A&E, congratulations, you just committed suicide.

Our Land - We are all living in a relationship with mystery, by Sarah at Left Brain Buddha.

GQ - What the Duck? by Drew Magary

Death and Taxes Mag - Enough Rope: Why suspending 'Duck Dynasty' star Phil Robertson over homophobic remarks wasn't the answer - by Robyn Pennacchia

CNN Belief Blog - How the Bible was used to justify slavery, abolitionism - by John Blake

sleep training, part I

"sleep training." apparently, among the parenting set, this is a nice way to describe different levels of letting your baby/kid cry themself to sleep until they learn to "self soothe" and, ideally, stop using sleep deprivation as an instrument of torture on their parents. or maybe there's a more official definition. i don't know. all i know is that when friends say "we're sleep training," i vaguely assume it involves crying on both the part of the baby and the mother. i didn't "sleep train" my kids per se. i was too much of a wimp to go full-on Ferber/CIO so Jack didn't sleep through the night until 10 months, and regressed at a year and a half when his sister was born, and didn't totally recover until, like, yesterday. colby was one of those mythical angel babies that, when i had J, i didn't believe existed. i actually had to wake her up to feed her. once the doctor said we could stop doing that (around 3 or 4 weeks i think), she would sleep from 9 to 4am or so, and by 10 weeks she was sleeping 10-12 hours a night. she still sleeps like a champ unless she's sick or teething. [< editor's note. goddammit already. i had this draft sitting around for a month and in that month my sleepy angel baby has turned into, in the words of emerson, a curly, dimpled lunatic - at bedtime, and at 2, 3 and 4am. WHYYYYYYY. her curly dimpled lunatic-ness i HIGHLY contagious. i am still a wimp re: crying it out, but i am reaching the end of my rope. will report back whether desperate times call for desperate measures.]

but see, i'm gonna pull a bait-and-switch here, because this post is not about "sleep training" my kids. i'm talking about sleep training me.

unfortunately, insomnia isn't really that funny, so i apologize in advance for the lack of hilarity.

sleeping is basically one of my most favorite things in the entire world. but i SUCK at it. it has gotten progressively worse over the years... first college, then law school, then getting married, then being a lawyer, then being pregnant, then having a kid, then having two kids...

i remember when i was little my parents made a rule that i couldn't get out of bed until the sun came up, and i would just lie there, waiting, until i could see the tiniest tinge of daylight through my curtains.

as i got older, i got even pickier about my sleep environment. whenever i would sleep over at friends' houses, i would sleep restlessly through the night, and wake up at o'dark hundred, again lying in bed, waiting, wondering how my friends could sleep so peacefully, well after the sun had risen, with my feet in their face.

at the beginning of college, i did crew, which meant waking up at 4am for practice. i was still adjusting to dorm life (a process took approximately 9 months), so i wasn't getting to bed until 2 or 3am most nights, and since i knew i had to get up in an hour or two, i rarely slept. this meant that on the days i didn't have 8am class (and let's be honest, even some of the days i did), i came home after practice to PTFO from 8am until 2pm, which was really really sad actually, because they stopped serving waffles in the cafeteria at 2, and it just seemed so hard to get there in time. later on in college i worked in a restaurant/bar/night club and often didn't get home from work until 3 or 4. depending on whether/when i had class and work, i would just sleep half the day, or power through and crash out in the afternoon. clearly these were not healthy sleep habits. but i wrote it off as "college."

in law school, i got into the habit of sleeping from 4am to 8am, and then again from 4pm to 8pm. in between my two hefty "naps" i subsisted solely on milk duds and freddos (aka crackachinos) from Peets Coffee, plus the occasional taco or burrito from Jimboy's or Chipotle. on top of my sleep psychoses, i had underlying medical issues that were making matters much worse (little sleep + lots of stress = extra sick). i knew the current situation was insane and even spoke with my doctor about it, but couldn't be bothered to implement the strict sleep protocol he'd suggested (nor give up caffeine, sugar, all-night cram sessions, or marathon binges on law-and-order SVU and true crime shows on A&E).

after we took the bar, DM and i moved to puerto rico to wait out the results. maybe it was just the effect of coming down off of 3-8 years of sustained sleep deprivation and jacked-up sleep habits, maybe it was the uber efficient AC and metal hurricane blackout blinds, maybe it was copious amounts of rum, but suddenly, i had NO TROUBLE sleeping AT ALL. we were on a $20 air mattress on the tile floor, and yet we would regularly sleep 'til noon, and wake up, still tired, thinking, wha??? how is it the afternoon already?!? it may not have been the best "sleep hygiene," but man was it guh-lorious.

we moved back stateside after passing the bar, and i went to work for a sole practitioner. the environment was... unconventional, to say the least. the weird-ass working conditions definitely didn't help my stress levels. in addition, my employer had big firm expectations re: billable hours and mcdonald's purse strings re: salary. it sucked. i was sick all the time. i slept like shit. i was miserable every morning, both because i was exhausted and because i dreaded going to work. in the midst of this DM and i got married which was basically the biggest stressor in my life up to that point (thank GOD pinterest did not exist back then). i don't think i slept from march to june 2008, instead spending my nights making napkin rings and trying to find a happy medium between my wishes (an intimate, fifty person affair) and my dear husband and his family (who wanted to invite the entire state of delaware and the majority of the population of iran). brutal.

after a couple of years i got out of crazy town and started working for myself. this had it's own set of stresses (i am a terrible schmoozer), but honestly, i didn't feel pressured to go out and pound the pavement and bring in six figures, so i found some clients and did some work, but i also took naps and read books and hung out at the beach and the pool. i think, after factoring in my expenses, i made approximately $17 in 2010. i had also managed to get myself knocked up during this time, so aside from the small issue of how we were going to pay for this child, it was good timing. my health was improved, and at least until i got too uncomfortable to do so, i slept. then.... J was born, and a year and a half later, his baby sister followed.

for the past 3 years, i have never been more tired, nor less capable of sleeping. maybe it's that i'm afraid i'll miss that little cry in the night. maybe it's because i'm too keyed up from juggling too many balls, burning the candle at both ends, being everything to everyone, etc etc etc. whatever it is. i do not sleep. seriously. it takes me hours to fall asleep, and if i ever actually do, i wake up again and again and can't get back to it. i wake up before my alarm goes off and lie there, angrily trying to threaten myself back into a peaceful sleep. not surprisingly, it doesn't work. most nights, i feel like i spent the entire time in that weird limbo phase between being asleep and being awake. i feel a seething sense of rage when my ever thoughtful husband "sneaks" in at 1:30 am when i am finally, JUST about to drift off, or when my dog click-click-clicks on the Pergo floors, or when they both serenade me in a surround-sound snoring symphony. it's nothing personal, but if you wake me up on the rare occasion that i am actually sleeping, be warned, life-threatening injuries are likely to occur.

i have tried SO MANY things over the years. i got acupuncture and massages. i researched and practiced transcendental meditation. i became certified in reiki and practiced on myself. i exercised. i did candlelight yoga. i stretched. i journaled. i sipped chamomile tea. i took melatonin, valerian root, kava kava, calms forte and every other herbal/homeopathic sleep aid on the market. and then i took every non-herbal OTC sleep aid, popping benadryl like candy, unisom, tylenol PM, etc etc etc. i counted sheep, and numerous other farm animals. we got a new mattresses, new sheets, new pillows, new sound machines, new curtains. i tried sleeping with my feet at the head of the bed, diagonal, perpendicular. i read books. i read boring depo transcripts. i sat in the dark. and waited. and waited. and waited. for sleep to finally come.

i'm still waiting . . .

to be continued . . .

"when you have insomnia, you're never really awake, and you're never really asleep...
with insomnia, nothing's real. everything's far away. everything's a copy. of a copy. of a copy."
- fight club

i better hurry up and figure this shit out before i create an alter ego
and start having disgusting sex with creepy helena bonham carter.

choose joy, or don't



i see a lot of this "choose joy" rhetoric being bandied about on the interwebs. "talking about our problems is our greatest addiction. break the habit. talk about your joys." "no bad days." "a month of gratitude." "there is always something to be thankful for." etc etc etc.

Kate's Short & Sweets Printable



and don't get me wrong. i think these are amazing states of mind to aspire to. happiness is, or at least, can be, a choice. oftentimes it really is just a matter of remembering and appreciating and being grateful for what we have and who we are. and almost everyone in the world could stand to be reminded of this, myself included. i used to have a small stone that was engraved with the word "gratitude," and even something as simple as that was often enough to nip self-pity in the bud (butt?). until someone stole it out of my car. fucker. oh well. clearly s/he needed it more than me! ;)

anyway. you know. the whole david foster wallace "this is water" thing - this is it, this is your life, enjoy the ride, and when you're about to flip someone off on the freeway, or get into a knock-down-drag-out fight with the lady who snatched the last head of organic kale at the farmer's market, remember that they might be having a much worse day/life than you are. we can choose how we perceive and react to others, and to the petty annoyances and frustrations of day to day life. everyone in the world would be better off if we all chose to be more mindful of and empathetic to one-another. 

i try to be cognizant of all of this, but there is certainly a great deal of room for personal improvement. and you know what? sometimes we have bad days. sometimes everything just seems SO HARD and you feel like you are barely holding it together. at least, i feel that way sometimes. a lot of the time, actually. anyone who claims that their life consists solely of rainbows and unicorns is lying straight through their faux-perfect pie-hole. i, for one, appreciate honesty, and hearing people tell it like it is. i like knowing that i am not the only one. and sometimes it just feels good to whine. i'm not saying make a career out of it or anything, but sometimes you need to vent before you can let it go.

i dated this guy in college and he would drive me crazy because if i had a bad day or whatever, and i was like, oh i got a bad grade on a paper, or some douche bonnet grabbed my ass while i was serving drinks, or my place of employment made me wear a skort and a "kiss my taco" tank top on Tuesdays. then he would say "well it could be worse, you could have no arms" or "at least you're not the victim of female genital mutilation" or "you should just be thankful we live in the land of the free and the brave" and i would have to talk myself down from stuffing my degrading, tequila-soaked t-shirt into his face hole. YES. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR POINTING THAT OUT. GOD BLESS AMERICA. 

i remember being pregnant for the first time - it was not my favorite thing. i got a smattering of the "oh your life is over" doomsday comments, but for the most part, people - friends, family, and complete and total strangers - spent the better part of nine months blowing smoke up my ass. while people referenced that "pregnancy glow," i was green with nausea. while others wondered over the miracle of life, i had raging heartburn, crippling exhaustion, and my joints and bones hurt so badly it reduced me to tears. women regaled me with stories of painless (<pfffffft! cough-bullshit-cough!) "natural" births: clean, warm bathtubs; a crown of fragrant wildflowers; faeries with flutes playing melodic tunes in the wings. epidurals are toxic. formula is poison. you and your child are one. it will all come naturally. you will know what to do. little did i know, these people were peddling a patchouli-scented pack of lies. 

i thought pregnancy was hard. then, i had a baby, which flat-out kicked my ass. i went through the first-pregnancy and new-mom phases with one of my best friends, Claire, who is one of the most genuinely positive and loving people you will ever meet. while i was suffering from the "baby blues," she had the polar opposite of postpartum depression. like, she basically had euphoric postpartum mania. 3 days post-baby: hot yoga, satisfying sex, scaling unstable beach cliffs with her sweet baby securely swaddled in the Ergo or Bob... all while deftly wrangling her baby onto a predictable schedule per the baby whisperer. she cooked up a storm (including filling our fridge with meals when Jack was born, even though she had a 9 week old baby herself!) she even cleaned and did laundry while the baby napped, which is not normally her forte ;) with SuperMom as my counterpoint, i couldn't help but feel like i was doing it wrong. not that she was misleading me. she was just a "natural" (a category of woman i had previously thought was a PR stint). but meanwhile i was flailing. (* i can report, with a small amount of satisfaction that, after having three babies in three years, said friend is finally showing 1/27th of the wear and tear i began to exhibit on day one of motherhood. we all have our tipping points. mine was conception. hers was more than halfway to a basketball team ;))

this was before i really did "the internet." i mean, i had email and facebook and stuff, but "blogs" and "forums" (about parenting or anything else) were not something i sought out. i didn't realize that there was a whole cottage industry of moms just like me, who maintain their sanity by laughing at, making fun of, and/or ugly-crying at the less than beautiful aspects of motherhood, and life in general. i wish i had discovered them earlier, because i think it would have helped me a lot, to put it in perspective, to pinpoint my specific location on the broad spectrum from shitty mom to supermom (and/or to realize it is a continuum, not just a box you may or may not be fit to check, and your location on said spectrum may vary from minute to hour to day).

i remember when my little sister had my nephew - before i even got married. i learned, much later, that she actually had kind of a rough time in the beginning. but from my point of view, at the time, it looked like she was handling it like a pro. baby slept. house was spotless. she was possessed by the spirit of martha stewart in the kitchen. it wasn't until after i had my own child that i realized how freaking hard it is. i remember calling her up and being like, "I am SOOOO sorry! I should have been there every day, bringing you food and doing your laundry and rocking that sweet baby so you could sleep. I had NO IDEA! Why didn't you tell me?!?!" but like most women, she had been conditioned to believe that pregnancy and motherhood are what we women are BORN for, and if you don't take to it like a duck to water... if you don't enjoy every single minute with that blessed little bundle of poop and tears... if you have to ask for help... then something is wrong with you. 

i am just so thankful that there are so many voices out there now telling you that it IS hard, that you are NOT crazy, that you can love your children and sort of kind of want to throttle them a tiny bit, too. 

and look. i probably take this notion too far. i am TOO honest, i share TOO much. DM always gets anxious when we are around people who are pregnant or new parents, because he's nervous i'm going to get verbal diarrhea and scare the shit out of them. he says "please, just try not to freak them out. yeah parenting is hard as hell, but they'll figure that out on their own in due time. just let them enjoy the last halcyon days of ignorant bliss." it's so hard for me to walk that line though... between honesty and negativity... or even explain it. this quote just about sums it up: "motherhood - the only way to experience heaven and hell at the same time."

but i do probably need to rein it in. a while back, one of my buddies was like, "when i hear Claire talking about kids i totally buy into the rose-tinted dream, but then i hear Mack talk about them and i'm like, thanks but no thanks!" and i felt SO bad. i mean, i LOVE my kids. lurve, lurve, LURVE them. running snarky commentary aside, i would not give them back for THE WORLD (at least, not permanently ;)). and for anyone to think, based on my bitching and moaning, that parenthood is not a worthwhile adventure is certainly not my intention. i talk about the trials and tribulations of parenting partly to get it off my chest, and partly because i just don't want people to feel duped when the reality hits them like a mack truck. but honestly, you cannot possibly fathom the depths of simultaneous love, shit and insanity that is parenthood until you are right in the thick of it, so i should just keep my trap shut. (editor's note: i probably won't.) 

DM actually said to me the other day, "you should really stop telling people you want to shake our babies. someone might think you're serious." fair point. but. okay. disclaimer. i have not and will not ever, EVER, shake my babies. i don't spank or throw things. i'm not much of a yeller. (as my mom used to say, "that was not yelling. if you want to hear yelling, i'd be glad to demonstrate.") but before i had my own kids, with that sense of righteous judgment only those without children possess, i could so confidently put that class of people (baby shakers) on a whole separate plane from myself... along with all the other soulless psychopaths with whom i have absolutely nothing in common. now that i have children, i have to admit, i at least understand the seed from which that urge stems, and i just have to trust that most mentally stable parents have some sort of biological disincentive for life-threatening violence against their own offspring. 

ANYWAY. kind of falling down the rabbit hole here. but. bottom line. i'm not saying it's cool to be an Eeyore or anything. nobody likes being around those people who are black holes of negative energy, bringing everyone around them down into the suck, like the midas touch except with shittiness instead of gold. all i'm saying is, "choose joy" when you can, but everyone deserves a little pity party now and again.



sh*t my kids say, part II

j: is da moon in outer 'pace?
me: yes.
j: is da Erf in outer 'pace?
me: um, i think the term "outer space" is relative to earth, so, no. but we should double check with daddy.
j: okay, wehw, send a text message to my wocket when you find out.

j: hey mom! why is da moon following us?
[look out the car window. holy crap. the moon is totally following us. how have i never noticed this before?]
me: um, that is an excellent question, dude. i will have to consult your father and/or the google and get back to you. [if you're curious, here's what we found out. try explaining this to a 3 year old.]

j: mom, is you putting on makeup cuz you does not has beeyootifoe eyewashes wike me?
me: basically, yeah! :)

j has taken to referring to colby by the names of various food products: "hey, sandwich bread!" "hey, lima bean!" "hey, marshmallow head!" "hey chicken finger!" could be worse, i guess!

C, when i pull into a parking spot: CRAAAAASH! (what does this say about my parking/driving abilities?!)

C has a tendency to pronounce "truck" with more of a "ph" sound. which is fine driving along in the car, not so great when we are in a public place. "phuuuuuck!" "BIG PHUCK" "what dat phuck?" "where da phuck go?" and most recently, "yook! dum phuck!" [dump truck... actually it was a cement mixer but who's counting ;)]

she has some other choice phrases, too, like "shit" [sit], "douche" [juice], and "crap" [clap]. she's ready for her debut :)

j: i made you a beeyootifoe neckwace. i made it extwa wong to fit yo' big head.

j: can i pwess da button [on the blender]?
me: not yet.
j: why not? because if i do i wiw make a smoovie outta yo arwm?
me: um, i was going to say because the lid is off... but... yeah... also that.

me, singing the chorus to Little Bunny Foo Foo.
j: mom? are dose da only woids you know? who would know da rest? you should call dem.

me: what's your favorite part of the day at school?
j: pwaying outside, and finding woly polys and wady bugs in da pwants.
me: what do you do with the roly polys and ladybugs when you find them?
j: we hide dem in our pockets so da teachers don't see dem.
sooo.... how many poor roly polys and ladybugs have suffered a watery death in our washing machine?? :( guess i need to start checking pockets more carefully!

me: let me grab the utensils.
j: is utensils 'Panish for forks and spoons?

j: co-by, da faster you eat yo dinner da faster you get howloween candy.
clearly we need to revisit the issue of healthy eating habits around here.

j: i'm full, but not too full for a miwkshake.
me: i completely understand.

both kids like to sing and dance and make up silly songs. the other night j's chorus was "macarena tickle dick, macareeeeeena tiiiiickle DIIIIICK!" i tried to keep a straight face and i was like, "where did you hear that one?" he said, "co-by." alrighty then. just gonna leave that one be and hope he forgets about it.

j just RIPS one in the other room.
me: what on earth was that?
j: wehw, it wasn't me tooting. i dunno. maaaaaaybe it was da house cweaking.
me: sure, bud!
a few minutes later he does it again and before i can say anything he says, "whoa, house!"

me: j, not now, please. i'm not in the mood for your shenanigans.
j: weeeeehhhw, SOMEone has to be in da mood for me!!!

me: OMIGOD you guys are KILLING me right now!
j: i'm not killing you. Co-by is!

j: you is setting a dangewous pwesent, co-by. [she was climbing the back of the chair].
me: i think you mean dangerous precedent.
j: NOPE!
you know that saying, "you can't argue with logic"? you know what else you can't argue with? three year olds.

j: fwee-year-owds don't like s'mores.
me: three year olds are missin' out!

me: you need to chill out. you are being really dramatic.
j: I AM NOT TRAUMATIC!
that's up for debate.

j: mom. wudolph the wed-nose waindeer is colored.
me: ummm, what was that?
j: he's colored. because he's bwown.
me: WHAT?
j: i colored him bwown? see?!
phew! omg. thought i was going to have to tell the cautionary tale of richie incognito for a minute there.

listening to "santa claus is comin' to town"
j: mom? do we live in "town?"
me: ha, yes, we do.
j: phew.

more holiday music...
j: is this a Hanukkah song?
dm: yes. did you learn about Hanukkah at school?
j: yes. some of my friends celebwate Hanukkah.
dm: cool. do you celebrate Hanukkah?
j: no. i celebwate Wudolph.

j: i think we should leave santa a pwesent.
me: santa likes cookies and milk. let's make him some.
j: i think santa wants cookies and Five Guys.
me: ha! you may be right ;)

she doesn't talk but she still cracks my sh*t up

give thanks

i posted this approximately three years ago. funny that i mention birth control and my belated honeymoon in costa rica and nicaragua where i planned to marinate in rum for 3 weeks. turns out i was, in fact, pregnant, and would spend most of my trip tethered to disgusting toilets, fainting on gnatty carpets and/or in a ghetto nicaraguan ER.

it's not thanksgiving yet, but i'm thankful already, and always...

reasons, just to name a few...

* iced coffee from 7-11, and crunchy soda fountain ice at am/pm.
* tj maxx and tarzshay. target and i are on a break. i'm tired of getting used and abused by that dude. just kidding. i still love you! i'll see you next week. 

* my pimp pad. i love my house. but man it feels a lot smaller now than it once did!
* my best buddy, ole blue. that crazy fuzz bucket will always be my original baby, even though there has since been two new furry additions to our family (I'm referring to my hirsute little humans ;)) 

* emoticons.
* it's november and its 75 degrees outside. Sadly, it is not 75 degrees in delaware.
* my husband is not a twat-waffle (this is my fave new word, can you tell? interestingly, urban dictionary.com fails to illuminate whether or not the term requires a hyphen). in fact, just the opposite. he is my best friend. also the best bartender and mixer of powdered beverages. and most importantly, THE BEST dad. makes my heart hurt. in a good way.
* eggnog. spiked. obv.
* the best group of friends, EVER. SO thankful for my friends, who make me laugh so hard i need pantiliners... who make me feel smart and skinny and pretty and witty, and like i'm not a complete and total fuck-up at this mom gig. i'm so glad that - so far - we've survived the "30 year spread" GD warned us about! ;)
* a new laptop that takes less than 17 minutes to accomplish any given task.
* my fam, especially my sis, bro, pops, and of course mister bacon bit.. (ahhh! bacon is FIVE. wtf.) and last but not least, my hearts, Jackson jay and Colby Jean. 
* trader joe's and henry's for letting me pretend i'm healthy.
* the internets. kind of a love-hate thing :)
* the encinitas library. where i now wear a disguise. (see backlink, above).
* birth control. more thankful for this now than ever - though i chose i more idiot proof route this time around ;)
* the sheer magnitude of calories burned in hot yoga. yo-what? the only exercise i've done since june is... never mind. does it count if you think about exercising?
* blockbuster nights. i remember those. *sigh.* 
* cheese. bread. or better yet, cheeseandbread. manhattan giant pizza and pillsbury crescent rolls. alcoholic beverages derived from grapes. cholula, tobasco, sriracha, chili garlic and sweet chili sauce. ranch. garlic salt. avocados. berries. fresh-squeezed oj. real whipped cream. crepes.
* people that give the courtesy wave... let you cut in line when you only have one item in your basket... and all other random acts of kindness.
* a $10 pedicure, even if its a little scary. eff that. i can afford a grown up pedicure now.
* flowers and funny love notes. i remember those. *sigh.* ;)
* dinners out, not to mention the fact that we can afford them. sort of. this is me on "date night" - it's like when you're in a cab and you only have a finite amount of cash and you see the meter just ticking up by the second... i'm like, okay, dinner is $80. the movie is $40 (because we are spoiled and only like to go to the "fancy" aka fat lazy people theaters). popcorn? soda? nah, i'm good. i'll just have some water from the drinking fountain over here and these smooshed linty milk duds from the bottom of my mom purse, deeelicious! .... man, this blooper reel is gonna cost us another $10... sorry honey, we can make out once we get back home and pay the sitter. i'm such a romantic ;)

* bev-mo's 5 cent wine sale. more thankful for this now than ever. those kids. i love them to death but they drive me to the drink.
* facebook's privacy settings. Ha. "privacy."
* working from home. and gainful employment in general. so grateful to be able to take care of myself and my family in a time when so many are deprived of this basic dignity. also thankful that I can work NOT from home in order to maintain a small shred of my sanity ;)
* the baskin robbin's employee who asked me if i had a preference, top or bottom (for my scoops of ice cream, of course!)
* farmer's markets and street fairs. and etsy. and pinterest! it's like a street fair for my mind! and free!
* funfetti cupcakes and homemade cookie dough.
* i am thankful in advance for the kindle that santa is bringing me for christmas! maybe santa will bring me a new new kindle this year, seeing as my crazy midget roommates like to use mine as a tennis racket.
* plane tickets to and from central america, with 3 weeks in between. can we get a mulligan???
* mochi balls. except the green tea flavor that tastes like an ash tray. ooh. i forgot about those. i need those. except maybe not right now, seeing as i've been gaining a pound a day with the inlaws ;)
* thanksgiving in delaware that will consist of sitting, chatting, watching football, and eating. and eating. and eating. my kind'a party!*
* the fact i no longer have to buy a whole cd with 13 songs i don't like. sorry eddie veder and other itunes haters. now, i just spend hundres of dollars on pop music $1.99 at a time! ;)
* clean public bathrooms. amen! especially with children! playing the "oh please for the love of god don't touch that" game is so not fun!
* a cold rainy morning. um, yeah, that was before toddlers.
* live music in small venues.
* obama. and michelle.  i still think michelle is cool ;)
* push up bras and anti-muffin-top thongs. if only i had the muffin top now i thought i had then!
* the fact that i don't have to use books to shepardize cases (or conduct legal research in general).
brunch!
* the retired sheriffs volunteer patrol. omg i love them.

a lot has changed in three years!!! wooeee. i'm still thankful for all the same basic things - family, friends, bread, cheese, books, booze, music, sunshine... I'd probably add iPads, chicken nuggets, Cheerios, gold fish, fruit snacks, fat pants, under eye concealer and dry shampoo. you know, the essentials...

*i am also particularly thankful for my "adopted" family (aka my inlaws) this year. i know for most or at least a lot of people, the holidays are about "going home." but i don't really have a "home" to go to. i feel bad saying that. i love my dad like nobody's business, and he even lives in my grandma's old house, but he's remarried and has a stepdaughter, the house has been remodeled, they have 5 cats, his dog tried to eat my son, little things like that... and ... it's just not the same. who knows. if my mom and stepdad were still alive, we'd probably be vacationing in mexico together as opposed to having stuffing and pie in sac-town, but i miss the idea of home, the feeling of it. that reminds me of this quote i love from the movie Garden State:

"It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."

anyway. it occurred to me this year that, after .. .what... six? seven? eight? years of going back east with my husband for the holidays, this is probably the closest thing i have to a "home." right down to the part where a seven day stay might be better in theory than in practice. haha. kidding. sort of ;) seriously though. i am just very thankful for this enormous, nutty family that makes me feel like i'm one of them. they have graciously welcomed me into their hearts and their lives and their overflowing dinner tables. they cook countless vegetarian dishes where meat is king. we still eat at "the kids' table." they cheerfully add serious poundage to our midsections. they love my children unconditionally, even when they are in the midst of one of their psychotic breaks. they tell me about DM as a kid. they argue, loudly, about politics and religion. they tell the same stories again and again. on occasion, they make awkward and/or extremely inappropriate comments. in other words, it feels just like home! and i'm just really happy to be here :) 

that is all. happy (tof)urkey day!

ps, i apologize in advance for typos and other weirdness, i am writing this on a keyboard with a broken space bar, where the T, H, F, B, G, and all vowels require brute force to type, and the internet connection appears to be routed through zimbabwe. omg. seriously. can't even spell check. it's so slow it's painful. like it is literally causing me physical pain. it is kind of making me want to hang myself with the wire that is connecting the mouse to the computer. i repeat. there is a wire. connecting the mouse. to the computer.

HA!
source: http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/

for crying it out loud

i am furious, and getting furiouser as i sit and steep in my furiousness.

back story. colby jean has been fighting naps and bedtimes with a vengeance for the past couple of days. i would like to blame it on our weekend trip/unfamiliar surroundings/change in routine and pray it will work its way out of her system sooner than later, but she was already showing signs of sleep issues last week - waking up hollering 5-10 minutes after we put her down a couple of nights - which she has never done before. last night was the worst yet. it took an hour to get her down, and she was up every 2 hours during the night. normally, we put her down in her bed awake and she smiles at us and rolls over to snuggle with her lovey, and that's all she wrote until the next morning. the last few nights, it's been a battle to even put her down, let alone leave the room. and she's in a big-girl bed (has been for almost 2 months now), so we can't just walk away, due to her pesky tendency to make a break for it like she's bustin' out of alcatraz. once we finally do get her to lie down and close her eyes, we're stranded for the next 30-60 minutes, because she seems to have developed a sixth sense and her eyeballs pop open at the slightest movement. it sucks. (before you start hating me for complaining about two days of sleep-crazy, please know, i already paid my dues. if you had told me when jack was wee that there are babies in the world who go to bed without a fuss, sleep through the night, and actually have to be woken up to eat, i would have punched you in the face. but i now know that this rare and mythical creature does in fact exist.)

i was kind of whining about colby's aberrant sleep psychosis but then DM reminded me that we have been extremely spoiled with this girl, and she is entitled to her fair share of dickery. jack tortured us for 10 months straight, gave us somewhat of a reprieve, and then got right back down to the business of sustained sleep deprivation when his little sister was born. he's still usually "the short straw" at bedtime. it's been two nights. give the girl a break.

so. DM just informed me that when he dropped colby off at daycare this morning, the daycare girl asked how she was doing, and he mentioned that she'd woken up screaming five times the night prior, and had been up since 5am, but was in a suprisingly good mood, considering. the daycare girl put on her judgy face and reminded DM that colby hadn't napped the day before, either. then she asked if we were making colby "cry it out." DM said, no, not really, but we'd discussed it this morning as a potential option. daycare girl responded, "well, you need to do that because, you know, what you do at home affects us here, too."

um, i'm sorry, what?!?!? as colby would say, phuuuuuuck youuuuuuuu.

first off. you are 27 years old and you don't drive and you still live with your parents, so forgive me if you're not my go-to source for parenting advice.

second, this is your job. handle your sh*t. i don't complain to my employer when my job sucks. you shouldn't, either.

third, colby is basically an angel baby. i mean, this is the first time we're even having this discussion because this is the first and only time in the 20 months she's been alive that she's caused a fuss two nights in a row. so you'll excuse me for cutting the kid some freakin' slack.

fourth, the "~18 month sleep regression" is an actual thing, if the "sleep experts" are to be believed, and apparently it tends to be the most difficult one. i just don't think she's doing this to spite us. also, seeing as you are a child care provider, you may be aware that children do whatever they damn well please a lot of the time, despite the best efforts of the large humans in their lives.

fifth, last time i checked, colby is our child. where in the folkenflik do you get off telling us how to parent her?! (i'm not even against CIO, at least in theory, though with jack i could never stomach the no-holds-barred ferber version. and also, it seems moot now that she is fully mobile and no longer sleeping in a baby cage. i'm sorry but i'm not going to lock her in her room. what i am against is people telling me how i "need" to raise my kid.)

lest you start wondering why on God's green earth i'm leaving my precious daughter's care to such an asshat, it's actually a two-person, father-daughter operation, and usually, the daughter half of the equation is, by all appearances, very good with kids, and both of mine seem to like her. but still. it's like freaking "Katie's Korner" from jack's old preschool where a childless pubescent wrote articles about how feeding my kids chicken nuggets is poison and how i should be introducing classical music, shakespeare, and age-appropriate, educational craft projects into my evening routine.

am i being an A-hole? probably. oh well.

i know what i'm getting daycare girl for christmas
kittie franz quote by mb art studios on etsy
http://etsy.me/1ivVWAH

weekender

"It is better to travel well than to arrive." - Buddha

Well, shit. I'm basically screwed then because these days I consider it a successful trip if we all manage to arrive at our destination in one piece without attracting the attention of TSA, FAA, CPS, SDPD, or any other acronym that could land my ass in jail.

Anyway.

Before DM and I started a family, we loved to travel, and we swore that (among many other things) we wouldn't let having kids slow us down. Not only did we want to continue to explore, we hoped to foster the same wanderlust and sense of adventure in our children. We wanted them to see and appreciate life beyond the bounds of their own backyard.

And that's all well and good. But. Holy Mary Mother of God. Have you tried traveling with children? There's no two ways about it. Traveling with kids slows you down. Like, a lot. I mean, take the amount of time and baggage you think you'll need, and multiply it times three. Or maybe five. I'm not saying we've changed our aspirations, or that we can't still achieve them, but like most things having to do with children, it's definitely going to look a little different than I originally intended.

We started our travel immersion progam early-on, and we take baby steps. This past weekend we went to visit our old besties (not that they aren't our besties anymore, but they moved 400 miles away, so they're on probation ;)) Because Jack had T-ball and DM is the coach, the plan was for Colby and me to fly out late Friday night, and Jack and DM to join us after T-ball on Saturday. Jack was aware of this plan, and was fine with it, until three minutes before Colby and I were about to leave, when he threw THE EVER LOVIN' MOTHER of all fits. He literally acted like I told him he was never going to see us ever again. He tends to the dramatic, but this was a whole new level of distress. It was such that I actually called the airline to see if it would be possible to switch his flight from Saturday to that night (like, 2 hours hence). Jack, sobbing, asked, "Arwe you weally calling da pilot to get me a ticket, Mom???" The ever-helpful Alaska Airlines representative was more than happy to switch J's ticket, for a change in fare AND a hefty fee. I was like, eff that.

So, we loaded Colby and our bags into the car. Jack continued to scream bloody murder, which got both Colby and the dog going, while DM and I were hollering at each other to be heard over the ruckus. I got in the car and started to back out of the driveway but for some reason the vision of DM physically restraining a sobbing, kicking, screaming, heartbroken Jack was just too much for me, so I stopped the car. I got out and told DM to put Jack in the car and drive us to the airport, so that I could fly, by myself with two kids, at 9:30pm on a Friday night (and DM could coach T-ball the next day even though his own kid wasn't present, ha!) I am ridiculous and insane. On the way to the airport, Colby starts losing her mind (I WANT MY SHOES ON AND OFF! I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND BUT ALSO I DO NOT!), and I busted out an emergency pacifier that we'd nixed two months ago. Oh well!

We got to the airport, got our boarding passes, got through security, and got to the gate with very little fuss. (Almost) everyone is so kind and helpful when you are a hot sweaty mess with two baby giants in tow. One guy about my dad's age who was traveling with his wife asked what he could do to help, and they were kind of my real-life guardian angels the entire trip. After hand-checking our stroller for explosives, the sweet TSA agent brought it over and said: "I tried to empty the sand out of it, but there was a lot." Ha. Story of my life. (Do you remember learning about asymptotes in geometry? And how they will never actually be zero no matter how close it looks? That is like sand in my life. And pee. And snot.) Then she gave the kids sticker-badges which was a big hit. God/Allah/Yahweh/Buddha bless their kind souls.

Things went so smoothly (relatively speaking) that we got to the gate with over an hour to spare, which, if you have kids you know is not ideal (though still preferable to being the last a-holes on the plane!) Luckily it was late enough that the place was pretty deserted, and they were tired enough that they'd lost some of their fight, but not so tired that they were in "the danger zone." For a while they were pretty content to stand at the window and watch the goings-on out on the runway.

This might be a good time to mention Colby's recent habit of calling out each and every vehicle she sees. She particularly loves trucks. Only, she pronounces it "phuck." Now, this hasn't yet been much of a problem, and I'll even go so far as to say we find it pretty darn hilarious in the comfort and privacy of our family sedan. But. I can now attest to the fact that it's more than a little embarrassing when it happens in a well-populated but nearly silent public place. "PHUCK! BIG PHUCK! BLACK PHUCK! WHITE PHUCK! WHERE DAT PHUCK GO?! C'MON, PHUCK!" O. M. G. What can you do?!? I was just like, "Ohhh, yes, truck. Yes, I see that truck!" I guess I should be thankful she didn't simultaneously want to "shit" [sit] and drink her "douche" [juice]. *Sigh.*

Meanwhile, Mr. J took his little die cast Southwest Airlines airplane out of his backpack and started to play with it. Then he began narrating, as he is wont to do. "Dis is not a Souf-west Aiowlines aiowplane. Dis is a Alaska Aiowlines aiowplane. It's bwoken because it doesn't has a tail wing. Dis bwoken Alaska Aiowlines aiowplane is gonna cwash and burin and all the peopow arwe gonna get dead." WTF?!?! "Ummm, that sounds really scary and awful, let's not talk like that, okay?" J: "I'm just pwe-tending, Mom." Me: "Okay." J: "I'm just pwetending dat dis Alaska Aiowlines aiowplane is gonna cwash and catch on fi-ow and die." Me: "Hey guys! Wanna read a book?" OMG. I have NO CLUE where he gets this shit?! And if I were to provide closed-captioning for the thought bubbles of the people around me, I imagine it'd go something like "May I please sit in a row that does not contain a mini sociopath? Super, thanks!"

When we got on the plane, the guy in front of us, who had apparently just changed his seat, looked back at me and my baby/luggage juggling act and said loudly to his travel partner: "Ugh. Maybe I should switch back to my other seat." Hey, twat-waffle! News flash! You were a kid once, too! And you were probably a dick even then! Why can't you be like the rest of civilized non-breeder society and just quietly give me the stink-eye?!

There was one other kid on the flight, probably about one-and-a-half, the same age as Colby Jean. I generally like it when there are other children on the flight because it decreases the odds that mine will be the a-holes, but this time it wasn't really working out for me. They were letting their kid run up and down the aisle, and in between, the dad alternated between tossing the kid up in the air and "flying" him around in a vigorous game of "airplane." Really it was a veritable circus act on a Bombardier Q400. I was like, Dude! Do you not realize that the only reason my children are sitting still is because I have told them that if they get up the pilot will come back here and arrest them put them on a time-out? You are completely destroying all suspension of disbelief here. Normally I subscribe to a live-and-let-live, "whatever you need to do to keep your child from screaming his face off and ruining everyone's day" mentality, but when your antics f*ck up my ability to blatantly lie to my children in order to get them to behave, we have a problem ;)

Anyway, we arrived in one piece (no fiery death or dismemberment, I am pleased to report), and I didn't even have to break out the electronics, so that ought to give you some indication as to how smoothly things went! I pray our cross-country flight to the east coast for Thanksgiving is as painless!!!

Even more importantly, we had as perfect a weekend as you can have with five rugrats under foot, cementing our conviction that traveling with children is worth it, even though the journey is infinitely more painful than the destination.

More travel quotes, if you're into that kind of thing:

"Not all who wander or lost." (My fave) - JRR Tolkien.

"He travels the fastest who travels alone." - Rudyard Kipling. You're tellin' me. God have mercy. Honestly. Somebody could cure cancer in the time it takes to get through security with toddlers in tow.

"Reminds me of my safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and we had to live on nothing but food and water." - W.C. Fields. That sounds almost as bad as parenting without alcohol.

"The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." - Saint Augustine. Granted, if you're traveling with small children, the other pages might be laced with tears, ear-piercing screams, boogers, and mean mugs from your fellow travelers. But then you get to the really good parts ;)

"A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us." - John Steinbeck. Ain't that the truth! And a trip with kids takes you by the throat and nearly strangles you to death, but when you get through to the other side, you really appreciate being alive!

More Steinbeck: "A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it." Wait. I can't control my marriage??? ;)

"The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see." - G.K. Chesterton. I'm learning that travelers with children see public bathrooms. Lots of bathrooms. Incidentally, G.K. Chesterton is my most favorite quotee ever, because it is he who said "Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."

And this -

Photo by Seattle Dredge of SeattlesTravels.com
This and several of the quotes found on Voyage Vixens

J: WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!!
C: PHUUUUUCK!
 

in honor of veterans day...

Deep thoughts on this Veterans Day:



I read this as follows: The patriotic posts and free cups of coffee and red, white and blue pancakes at IHOP are all well and good, and surely appreciated, but what are you going to do for these veterans tomorrow, and the next day, and this winter when they're sleeping on a park bench in the freezing cold, and next year, after they've waited 6 months for a doctor's appointment only to find out it's too late?

HUD estimates that there are approximately 50,000 homeless veterans on any given night (which is actually a 33% decrease since 2010).

Veterans have poor access to health care, both mental and physical. Veterans are dying while waiting for obscene amounts of time to see their doctors. Veterans are committing suicide at staggering rates every single day.

So, tomorrow, when the Rah Rah, Amer'ca - Fuck Yeah memes are no longer apropos, let's ask what we can do next. Here's a list of "7 Charities That Actually Help Veterans Beyond Veteran's Day."

And today? Watch this video (again).



To the haters - no, a haircut and a suit aren't going to solve all of the problems. Not even close. But to echo the sage sentiments of Macklemore & Lewis, it's a damn good place to start. When I was in college there was a woman who came down to the boardwalk in Mission Bay once a month and gave free haircuts to homeless people. I loved to sit and talk, waiting for that moment when she held up a mirror so they could see the end result. they would just light up from the inside. Say what you will about addressing the "real" problems, but a haircut and some clean new duds can really change your outlook - both how you feel about yourself, and how you are perceived by others, which, like it or not, informs each and every one of our identities, at least in part.

On a lighter note, I will share a couple of stories from my favorite veterans -

One of my grandpas was in the army. He was wounded in combat and they had to amputate his leg just below the knee. He wrote home to tell his family of the injury, saying "I was shot in the chin and they had to amputate." Everyone froke out imagining that grandpa was going to come home with only half his face, so they were thrilled to learn that it was just an unfortunate spelling error, and he would be coming home one shin short, but with his handsome face fully intact :)

Another grandpa was in the navy. They once went to Saudi Arabia, and the officers shared a meal with some diplomats - a sheikh and his men. as a gesture of goodwill, the sheikh gave the admiral several gifts, including a traditional middle eastern headdress and robe. They later brought the group on board to check out the flight operations on the aircraft carrier. The admiral told his assistant to keep an eye on the sheikh, and make sure he got off after the tour. Once the sheikh was safely back on land and the ship had set out, the admiral's assistant had one of the cooks dress up in the gifted middle eastern garb and sent him out wandering around on the deck. The joke worked and the commander of the ship totally lost his mind thinking they'd basically kidnapped a Saudi sheikh.

My third grandpa was a super secret spy so I'm sure we don't know the best stories, but my brother reminded me of a couple today:

Once, step-gramps used pregnant step-grams for his "cover" as happy husband and wife. They had to go into a bar (she was 8 months pregnant!) and take pictures of an enemy target having a meeting. He had a very small camera, but it made an audible click every time he took a picture. I'm happy to report they got out undetected! But if you knew these characters, this mental image would have you in stitches.

Another time, step-gramps and his colleagues were being taught French, but they sucked at it, so they would make up phrases like "faire car marmalade," which translated to "traffic marmalade" in French, but "traffic jam" to the hilarious American spies :)

Okay.

That's all I got.

Peace.

I made a donation to help veterans in need this Veteran's Day.
You can too. Click here.

sloppy seconds

twice in the past few weeks i have been alone with my one-and-a-half year old daughter for an extended period of time. this was a new experience for both of us, and it was such a trip. the minute big brother left for his first sleepover, colby started in with "where's bruuuuuudder?"

[side note: i honestly sort of felt the same way! don't get me wrong. i LOVE date nights and weekend getaways. i am not the type of mom that cries on the plane as i'm flying away from my precious babies. i am the type of person that orders a tequila at 10am - and make it a double. cheers to a REAL vacation. i'll drink to that! but. it was so weird being at home without the boy. something about our house just felt so different. quieter, a lot less drama, a lot less crying, yes :) but also, not quite right. there was a jack-shaped hole in it!]

ANYWAY. colby asked "where's bruuuuudder?... whyyyy?" every 3 minutes and 37 seconds from the moment he left until the moment he returned. hanging out with her and only her really drove home the birth-order thing like nothing else i've ever experienced. i'm the oldest child, and i always found the first-born, middle-child, and baby dynamic interesting. i blamed "middle child syndrome" for the slight but ever present chip on my little sister's shoulder and her mcdonald's fetish (because of that one time when she wasn't allowed to go even though little brother did ;)) and "baby child syndrome" for my brother's refusal/inability to grow up. i have jokingly attributed my perfectionist/OCD/people-pleasing/over-achieving nature on being first-born. but honestly, i never put too much stock in it. sort of like astrology or the chinese zodiac, i thought it was somewhat amusing but i figured you could probably find something that resonated with you no matter what "your sign." Ohmigod! Aries are charming and charismatic? How did they know??!! ... Wait wait wait, Monkeys are lucky and clever?!? It's like this was written just for me!!! ;)

it wasn't until i had my second child that i realized that, necessarily, there are differences in the parenting and childhood experiences depending on your order of birth. the topic has been discussed ad nauseum and i don't really have anything to add in that regard... funnier people than i have listed many differences between the way you parent your first vs. second (or third or fourth) child. (see, e.g., this, and this. there was a great one by jason good, too, but it seems to have been erased from the interwebs). for example, i was a total TV/"screen time" nazi with my firstborn, and now they each have their own iPads. elaborate bedtime routines involving both parents for the firstborn, second-born's gets the "fast pass" version. first born: carefully steamed and pureed baby food, balanced buffets of organic 1/4 square inch tidbits (that were promptly thrown on the floor). second born: chicken nuggets. ketchup. she actually just ate ranch with a spoon the other day. jack knew the alphabet and numbers and colors and shapes by the time he was her age. colby? eh. she'll learn 'em eventually, right? when jack was the age colby is now, he knew all of the local parks and beaches by name, and ordered his daily itinerary accordingly. if you ask colby what she wants to do on any given day, she looks at you like, "huh? what do i wanna do? cannot. compute." i'm not saying he's cleverer than her, because he's not. and it's not that she's is a pushover, either. she doesn't pull any punches. literally. like, if you piss her off, she will punch you in your pie hole. generally only when provoked. ;) but when it comes to anything outside her physical being (e.g., beyond what toy is in her hand, food is in her mouth, or shoes are on her feet), she's stumped. questions we ask her brother all the time - "where would you like to go today?" "what game would you like to play?" "what would you like for dinner?" - totally confound her. she's like, "ummmmmm.....?" her brother even speaks for her half the time. "Mom! Co-by wants graham crackers!" "Co-by doesn't like pasta, Mom!" "MOM! Co-by wants to feed me her fruit snacks!" "Co-by wants to watch Monsters, Inc." (how convenient!) the poor girl seems to have no concept of herself except as part of a larger group, no idea that she could actually have some say in our actions as a family.

i am sad and more than a little embarrassed to admit, i don't, either. the other day i was at the store buying presents, ostensibly for Christmas but there is very little chance they'll last that long. jack has a laundry list of things he wants. a "flip up" skateboard (as opposed to the longboard he already has). a "skate pool," whatever that is. a Dusty Crophopper. a "wed and white stwiped fightow jet." a garbage truck with a hole in the top. a "Green Lanterin Powah Wing [sic]." (the "power ring" i origamied out of a dollar bill was not, apparently, sufficient.) a "telekope" so he can see "Saturin" [Saturn]. and this isn't a new phenomenon. for every christmas and birthday since he could talk, he's had plenty of vociferous opinions about what we and santa better bring. so, anyway, i was snatching up some things i knew J would like, and then i thought, okay, now i have to get some awesome things for C... and then i was like, wait, what does she even like? i honestly don't know. i found myself thinking, well, she likes skateboards and planes and garbage trucks and superheroes, right? i mean, she does. because her brother does. and because that's mostly what we have around the house because when the dictator says jump we ask how high. but, what does colby like????? and i really had to think. it's so sad! once i started marinating on it, i think i got some good ideas. aside from the trains planes and automobiles, i know she likes Doo-Rah (Dora), and MoMo (Elmo). i know she likes pretend food/kitchen things. i know she likes to draw. i know she likes Yegos. i know she loves things that open and shut. okay. we're getting somewhere here. i can work with this :)

i don't know. this isn't a very well structured analysis of sibling birth order, nor is it meant to be. i don't really know where i'm going with it. it's just so interesting, to see this dynamic from the outside looking in. i know that, in part, dems da breaks, but i am hoping that because DM and i are cognizant of these issues, we can do our best to consciously counteract them, making sure that the little miss and her self identity don't get lost in the fray.

it's also so interesting to see the interaction between the two of them through mom eyes instead of evil big sister eyes. i mean, i was pretty horrid to my little sister growing up. i honestly don't think i was actually nice to her until i left for college. maybe once in a while. like when she was born, i said "she looks like a beautiful princess!" and my mom was like, um, not really, she sort of looks like a moldy tomato (ha! she was really red with silver fuzz for hair). but between her birth and college - not so much. we did play together plenty - games of "earthquake" and "avalanche" and other natural disasters instead of house, because we were/are strange. but i also tried to feed her soap, chiefed her with magic markers while she napped, and once flung a shoe directly at her head. but seriously, my parents always told me, "she just loves you and wants to be your friend" and i was like, GET IT AWAY FROM ME! (sorry sis! i love you an extra lot, now! and of course i loved you then, too. i just didn't want you up in my grill/closet/diary all the time (< seriously. she would hide in my closet and listen to my phone conversations and read my diary. so i just starting making sh*t up :)) my little brother was a different story. he was 11 years younger so he was sort of like a life-sized baby doll i got to dress up and drag around.

jack is actually really, really sweet to his sister a lot of the time. way nicer than i was to mine. though i will say, i was much better at guerrilla sibling warfare and subversive ninja tactics than he is. maybe that will come with age. i rode my good girl/first born reputation and tortured my sis silently and on the sly, ensuring that 89.3% of the time, she was the one who got busted for our fights. not that she was innocent, mind you. but she was definitely the fall guy. when jack is not nice, however, it's SO sad. colby seriously thinks the sun rises and sets with her big brother. she LURVES him and just wants to be right up in the middle of whatever it is that he is doing, at all times. she's like this eager drooly little puppy who just wants some love, and he shoves her out of the way. it breaks my heart! the other day, J stubbed his toe and was wailing and writhing around on the floor, so colby goes over to give him a full body hug and keeps trying to kiss him to make it better and Jack is yelling, "NOOOOO! NO THANK YOU CO-BY! I JUST WANT TO BE ALONE!!!! NO. THANK. YOUUUUUUUU!!!!" it's so hard! it's like a war in my heart because i know how annoying little sisters can be, but then here's my sweet little snuggle nugget just pouring out her heart and getting rejected by her idol. sad face! oh well. there's hope. people always told my sister and i that we'd be best friends someday. i never believed it when we were having death-staring matches and kicking each other under the dinner table, but it ended up being true <3

http://www.pinterest.com/pin/309481805614641066/



http://www.pinterest.com/pin/309481805614641118/