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