explain it to me like i'm a 2 year old...

disclaimer: i am not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination and obviously there are many things about religion in general and christianity and the bible in particular that i do not know or claim to know. and i certainly mean no disrespect. i am just telling it like i see it, on the outside looking in.

based on my observations, you are apparently allowed to pick and choose the parts of the bible that you want to follow. and hey, i don't blame ya. i've been reading the bible myself lately and there is some crazy ass shit in there. but guess what? the constitution isn't supposed to work that way.

i saw this bumper sticker yesterday that said "the US constitution: annoying liberals since 1787*." i laughed. (*btw, the constitution didn't go into effect until 1789 and the bill of rights wasn't ratified until 1791, but hey, who's counting.) anyway, i'm liberal and i happen to be quite fond of the constitution. i assume this sticker was referring to the second amendment in particular? okay. fine. you can have your second amendment (even though, p.s., it says "well regulated" RIGHT IN MUTHER LOVIN TEXT.) but alright. whatever. i won't pry your guns from your cold dead hands. i will pray that it isn't your (or my) child who gets shot in their preschool class or your (or my) mentally unstable war veteran husband who eats his own gun. i really don't understand the problem with background checks and education/safety regulations and outlawing things like uzis and grenade launchers from the general gun-toting public but i don't even want to fall down that rabbit hole right now.

my point is, there are actually 26 other amendments (well 25 in effect), among which can be found some super duper useful personal rights and protections, including the guarantees that "no person shall be denied life, liberty or property without due process of law" and "no State shall deny to any person within its jurisdiction equal protection of the laws." and what about "ALL men are created equal?" (declaration of independence), and "liberty and justice for ALL?" (pledge of allegience). yeah, those apply too. or at least, they should. sadly, as a society, we're a little slow on the uptake... but bit by bit we are realizing that equal really does mean equal. not silent but equal. not separate but equal. not "sort of kind of but not quite" equal. just EQUAL. and today we came one step closer to this - let's call it the Platonic ideal of equality.

what strikes me as strange is that most of the supporters of DOMA are the same people who rail against "big government." you lose your freaking mind when the government suggests you use flourescent light bulbs, but it makes perfect sense for the government to tell us which consenting adults can lawfully marry one-another? allowing the federal government to legislate love? that's a slippery slope my friends. that's the same type of power that might allow the government to tell you you are raising your kids the wrong way, or praising your god the wrong way, etc...  as far as i'm concerned, the government has no business dictating personal morality. as long as you're not hurting anyone else, and no one else is hurting you, WHY DO YOU CARE????????? I mean, I appreciate the concern and all, but if, according to you, my choices mean I'm going to burn in hell, isn't that my problem?

then there's the whole 'sanctity of mariage' argument. but unless you're gonna pass a constitutional amendment banning divorce and adultery and The Bachelor/Bachelorette and "who wants to marry a millionaire"/Rock of Love/Flavor of Love, and please for the love of god an everything holy do something about Tom cruise... Then no.

"the bible forbids it." okay. don't make me go leviticus on your ass. do you dig on swine? (Leviticus 11:7-8). toss around the pigskin on turkey day? (11:8). cut your hair/beard? (19:27). have a tattoo? (19:28). wear cotton-poly blends? (19:19). read gossip mags, or gossip yourself? (19:16) curse your parents? death! (okay i actually kind of agree with that one ;))(Exodus 21:17). are you divorced? (Mark 10:8). divorced and remarried? (Mark 10:11-12). do you ever work on the sabbath? death again! (Ex. 31:14-15) women speaking in church? the shame! (1 Corinthians 14:34-35). do you like shrimp? uh uh! (Leviticus 10-11) sex before marriage? (Deuteronomy 22:20-21). sex at "that time of the month?" sex too soon after giving birth? (Leviticus 12). what about this one? Genesis 38:6-10 "Onan knew that the offspring would not be his; so when he went in to his brother's wife, he wasted his seed on the ground in order not to give offspring to his brother. But what he did was displeasing in the sight of the Lord; so He took his life also." requiring a woman to marry and have sex with her dead husband's brother? alright! "Spilling your seed?" more death! and i'm sure there are countless other examples. again. not trying to be disrespectful here. i understand this is a sacred text to many and i'm not trying to make light of it. but you can't deny that some of this stuff is just ridiculous in this day and age and to argue that one sentence was and is the inviolate word of God and the next, for whatever reason, no longer applies DOES NOT FLY!

what about the more general "it's against my religion" - THEN DON'T. EFFING. DO. IT. it really is that simple.

"we don't want this godless behavior condoned/institutionalized by our government"... Okay. Here we go with that pesky constitution again! 1st amendment. Separation of church and state. Maybe your marriage involves God. That's your prerogative. Mine is between me and my husband and the good state of Nevada.

oh and my fave, the "oh we believe it's a sin and we don't want our children to grow up thinking/learning it's okay" argument. well. alright. first, you can dress it up in all the religious trappings you please, but what we're really talking about here is homophobia. but hey. i have an irrational fear of mariachis. it happens. i'm working on it. anyway, more importantly, if you really think it's so wrong, then teach your children accordingly (and raise a whole new generation of homophobes! it is a "free" country, after all.) there are over seven BILLION people in this world. that means there are lots and lots and LOTS of ways to be/think/live. i'm not going to agree with all of them and they're not all going to agree with me. nor is it my place or their business to do so. the only thing i can and should control is how I live, and, to an extent, how my children live, and even that only goes so far.

“Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own.”  - Paul Coelho

“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.”  - Paul Coelho

this generally isn't a place where i want to get all political. for the most part, i intend to keep my posts within the purview of poop and pee and preschool. but in this case, the personal IS political. my little brother and some of my very best and oldest friends are gay. until today (and still, in many states) they were/are relegated to a "skim milk" version of marriage (per my old lady crush RBG), or treated like second-class citizens not entitled to marriage at all. this enrages me. it makes me want to cry and punch things. i'm a lawyer. i have been trained to see, and argue, both sides of of any case. on most issues i'm willing to admit that reasonable minds could disagree. but not this time.

i know that the people who agree with me aren't hearing anything new and the people who don't probably aren't even listening, but being the narcissistic newbie blogger that i am, i felt i had to put my piece on "paper". i'll put the soap box back in the closet. for now.

and, scene.

click here for some gay marriage videos and laughter and maybe a tear or two.

source: http://i.huffpost.com/gen/1200776/thumbs/
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source: live.usnews.com
http://images.scribblelive.com/2013/6/26
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no h8

i'm not gay, though a friend of mine does joke that i am a lesbian who likes penis and my husband is a gay may who likes vagina. i'd say i'm pretty textbook hetero... as long as that textbook has a standard exception for "that one time in college." BUT. what if i was a lesbian? would you love me any less? would you value me any less? could you look me in the eye and tell me i should be relegated to a lesser set of rights and protections than you? if you answered "yes" to any of those questions, then we are not going to be friends.

i'm somewhat ashamed to admit that i actually do have a couple of "friends" posting ridiculous bigotry online today in the wake of the Supreme Court's decisions on DOMA and Prop 8. if you are really really old and/or related to me then i give you a tentative pass because i can't really bring myself to divorce grandpas and grandmas and family, but otherwise, this seems like the perfect opportunity for some "spring cleaning" on facebook. DM actually prohibited me from getting on FB today because i get so worked up over stuff like this. (i disobeyed ;)) i don't mean i get "upset." i mean, basically, steam starts coming out of my ears and i can't think or eat or sleep and i give myself panic attacks. my primary care physician actually recommended that i not watch/listen to the news in general because i am such a stressball. sigh. i know some people get hurt feelings about being deleted from FB and i guess i can see that, but DM made a valid point when discussing it the other night - if you were at a party or whatever and someone started spouting shit you found offensive and which incited a burning sense of rage in your soul, you wouldn't stick around to listen to it and you sure as hell wouldn't invite that person to your parties anymore, right? so why subject yourself to that BS in the virtual world? yes, i am creating my own little utopia where everyone believes that all humans should be treated equally under the law. so fucking sue me.

my happy little world will be wallpapered with rainbows, and unicorns will abound, and there will be singing. lots of singing. today, the king of rainbow unicorn land is my little bro, who just "came out" on facebook. most everyone he knows already knew that he was gay, or at the very least suspected, based on the guy liner and the v-necks and the uber-tight girl jeans he buys at forever 21. but some people didn't know or suspect (don't underestimate the power of denial) and based on their vocal anti-gay and/or anti-gay marriage comments, may or may not react all that well. i am so proud of, and nervous for, my brave, beautiful baby brother. i have loved that boy with all my heart from the instant he graced our world 22 years ago. he had a whole welcoming party at the hospital when he arrived, which is befitting. with the 11 year age difference, i always sort of felt he was my very own. when my mom and stepdad died when brother was only 7, that only served to underscore my sense of responsibility and fierce mama bear protectiveness of him. it makes me so sad that Mom and Stepdad aren't around to see the amazing and really really ridiculously good looking young man he's become (and also to maybe convince him, as we have yet to do, to expedite the whole 8 year college plan ;)) i know they would be so, SO proud of the strong, thoughtful, brilliant, creative and independent man he has grown up to be.

i had a dream last night (in the few hours i slept between stressing about the Supreme Court rulings) that my brother and sister and mom and stepdad and stepgrams and stepgramps and DM and the littles and i were all sitting on funky quilts on a huge sunny porch in san francisco. it didn't feel like SF, because it was sunny and HOT, but it was. there was an enormous rainbow flag hanging off the porch and tons of happy noisy people in the street below. "Flash" the nearly nude rollerblader from pacific beach was also there in a glittery thong with rainbow butt cheeks and a mini american flag wedged between them. we were celebrating something and toasting with Wet Woodys and Mom and Stepdad were having a friendly disagreement about the proper proportion of the ingredients. i don't dream of them often anymore and this one really stood out because it seemed so real but at the same time part of me knew that it was a dream, and i was acutely aware of the fact that we were all just enjoying each other's company as "grown-ups" which is something my siblings and i never had the opportunity to do with our parents and something i really "miss" even though i never actually experienced it. it's weird too because two nights in a row now mister J has woken up in the middle of the night scared, saying "someone" was in his room. maybe this is something that kids just say. i remember i used to be completely convinced that the incredible hulk was in my room when i was little. nevertheless DM and i were both looking at each other like "what the crap?!" and i sent a little mental note into the heavens that if it is them haunting us, please come to my room, not the babies', because they wake up enough on their own as it is! but who knows. maybe they've been visiting, in spirit, to celebrate my brother and equality and summer and love.

okay ANYWAY. here's what my brother said. i love it and i love him. and if you have anything other than utter positivity in response to this, then i kindly invite you to take a long walk off a short pier.

Today is a fabulous day! In case you hadn't heard, the Supreme Court's ruling has officially overturned California's 2008 gay marriage ban, as well as the Defense Of Marriage Act. This is welcome news not just because I'm a bleeding heart ...liberal. I'm ecstatic because it affects me personally. Most of you know, some of you probably suspect, and an even smaller portion of my Facebook friends are unaware of this fact: I'M GAY. Phew! That was really hard to type. But it's something I've been meaning to do for a while. Here's why: Women won the right to vote in 1913. Racial segregation in schools was deemed unconstitutional in 1954. Though both women and African-Americans are "equal" in the eyes of the law, racism and sexism still exist today in shocking amounts. And this in spite of the fact that pretty much everyone has family/friends/acquaintances in both of these minority groups. That isn't the case for homosexuality. For too long have we hid our true selves. We've pretended that we could be "normal", some of us have even been subjected to "fixing". I for one have censored my Facebook posts and restricted content because I was worried about what people would think. But I say no more. I want everyone I know to know who I truly am; and being gay is part of that. It doesn't define me just like your eye color doesn't define you. I'm sorry for being long winded, but this is a big step towards true equality. I hope that by stepping all the way out of the closet, I can be an example of what I wish everyone could be: proud of who they are. I also hope to change a few minds. Who knows, maybe you've known me my whole life and the idea of treating me as lesser doesn't sit right with you. Maybe now that you "know a gay", you won't vote to take away my rights. Maybe we can talk as friends/family without secrets between us. Maybe, one day, you can congratulate me for walking down the aisle with the man of my dreams.

Happy Marriage Equality Day, California.

Happy Pride Month, USA.

the pink prom dress

okay. do you remember that time when i had a fancy fundraising gala to attend? i don't think i told most of you how that ended... 

background for those who didn't hear it firsthand - the fundraising event was for a muslim non-profit, and DM was basically attending as the face of his organization, so on multiple fronts i figured i should probably err on the side of sartorial caution and keep the cleavage and the legs in check. but mostly i was just stressing because to me, "gala" means long fancy dress and i do not own anything in in my post-baby size that is a) the least bit dressy and b) is not from target or tj maxx. 

i ended up at the BCBG outlet store two days before the shindig and found a dress that i thought was PERFECT. i felt like a princess and all of my parts were appropriately covered (i mean, it would not pass muster as a mormon bridesmaid's dress. but i figured throw on a shrug or a pashmina and i'd be  set.) the zipper stuck a little going up, but the sales lady assured me this sometimes happened with new dresses. she said when i got home, i should rub the zipper with wax paper to basically lube it up, and i should have no problems. but then, as she went to unzip it so i could take it off, it stuck again. after wrastling with the zipper for a few minutes, she called her manager, who in turn called her manager, and all three women (unsuccessfully) manhandled me for a good twenty minutes trying to unstick the zipper. finally, the store manager announced that they would have to cut me out of the dress, and she proceeded to do just that. so sad! meanwhile, the original sales lady went to see if they had another one in the same size, or even a different color. there were no more of the original color, but there was one in my size in the most heinous shade of "multivitamin pee" yellow you could imagine. i politely passed. then the woman offered to sell me the dress that they had just cut me out of, "for a discount," of course... "like 20%." I was like, are you serious lady? Unless you're offering to sell it to me for a dollar with an overnight tailor included, no deal.

the next day, i ran over to macy's on my lunch break and grabbed a coral pink, juniors prom dress on clearance for $40. it was floor length chiffon, one-shouldered with rosettes all up the shoulder and terrible ginormous fake crystals inside each rosette. it wasn't the worst thing ever (except the bedazzles - they were pretty bad). but there was no mistaking it for anything but a prom dress. oh well! it would have to do the trick.

it's saturday. we drive to the "gala". the invite definitely said dinner service starts promptly at 7 and will be finished by 9pm, and they strongly encouraged everyone to show up early to mingle. we show up at 6:30 and okay, first, it is in a conference room at the doubletree. nothin' wrong with the doubletree. just pointing out that the lustre dust on my glorious gala vision was starting to flake off. we walk in to register and i am (a) the only white-looking person. (b) the only person in a prom dress. (c) the only person in pink (or really any other color!) (d) the only female not wearing a hijab. i wrap my sheer pink and orange scarf a little more snugly around my shoulders and try not to hyperventilate while we complete the registration process. there really isn't anyone there who's not working/volunteering, so we decide to go back to the car and wait a little while. DM says let's wait until we see some female guests without their heads covered, so i don't stand out as much. okay. so we wait. and wait. and wait. not ONE non-hijab-wearing woman enters the building. finally we can't put it off any longer so we go in and find our place and sit down. DM's theory is that once i'm sitting, i won't be such a bright shining beacon of neon chiffon (keep in mind that, in heels, i am probably over 6 feet tall, which is a good 4" above the median height in the room. oh yeah also that reminds me - i hadn't worn those heels in ages and apparently the rubber/plastic tips on the heels had dried out and began cracking off in little pieces so by the time we got inside i was click-clacking around on two metal pegs like captain fucking hook). perhaps i was slightly less noticeable once i was sitting down. i don't know. i still felt pretty damn visible but i hope he was right. at least i was quieter. the plan was to get me situated and then he would stake out for reinforecements in the form of alcoholic refreshements. i don't know why it took us this long to realize, but there was NO ALCOHOL. perhaps this should not have come as a surprise. but it did. a terrible, heartbreaking, surprise.

thankfully, there ended up being two other women without head coverings, and they were, accidentially or on purpose, seated at our table. this meant that we had company to chat with while 99% of the room left for evening prayer. this was after an Imam [quite beautifully] sang a "small section" of the Quraan that felt longer than a dr. seuss book at 9:59 on a friday night, but before they played to the hip young portion of the crowd with an open mic performance by an artist/poet about how the mainstream media misrepresents Muslims. he made several valid points. but i couldn't help but feel like the "white media's" proxy in my pink bedazzled prom dress. okay. i realize i'm being a total narcissist. probably nobody even noticed the sparkly 6 foot flamingo in their midst. but OMG. i was DYING. i was furiously texting my friends during this time and rather than provide moral/emotional support, they just LOL'ed their asses off and demanded that i provide photographic evidence. but there was NO WAY i was going to do anything (else) to draw attention to myself. (by the way, i would have looked nearly as ridiculous in my first choice of dresses, and would have spend 4x as much. so thank goodness for small favors. somewhere in the middle of my dress dilemma DM said, "i'm sure it's fine if you just wear a short black dress" and i am SO GLAD i didn't listen to him because the only thing worse than floor length pink chiffon would have been an LBD.)

then, two of the people at our table - a couple- had come to the US as refugees from bosnia-herzegovina. during that period in history, the only politics i was involved in was my run for student body president in 8th grade, and i think my platform was centered around longer recess and better hot lunches, set to a soundtrack of nirvana and RHCP and boyz II men. thank GOD/ALLAH/YAHWEH that my super brilliant husband could carry on an informed conversation re: the bosnian war with this couple and the others at our table, because all i could do was sit there in blushing pink inanity. brutal. i can't think of a time in my recent memory when i have been more uncomfortable.

so, yeah, apparently i am a culturally insensitive cretin. but in my defense - the largest group of muslims with whom i associate on a regular basis are my husband's persian family - and they are not what i would consider "practicing" muslims (i.e., no prayers, no headscarves or chadors (and actually, depending on the event, my bedazzled prom dress might fit right in) and there's usually wine and/or alcohol at gatherings, though there's a chance it's been in the basement for 20 years, and not in a good way... :)) so (clearly) i had not properly girded myself for this event.

a little more context: i can fake it with the best of them but basically at heart i am a total hermit and i get major social anxiety. i hate schmoozy lawyer things (or schmoozy any-things), fundraisers, or any event with large crowds and small talk. normally you couldn't pay me to attend something like this. however. DM exploited my irrational love for all things disney, and promised that if i went to the gala as his date, he would take me out for dessert and drinks at downtown disney after. i fell for that hook line and sinker. happily, we did end the night having dessert and (alcoholic) drinks with friends in downtown disney. and apparently, it was senior ball or something at one or more of the local high schools because there were bedazzled prom dresses all over the place. aside from being at least 15 years older than the rest of them, i fit right in :)

As if feeding my kids wasn't hard enough...

My friend posted a link on Facebook today. You'll probably want to read it yourself but I'll give you the Cliff's Notes: If you're anything like me, there is a very high chance you are feeding your kids carcinogens on a daily basis. I am very thankful she posted it. Like learning about what's really on the inside of Capri Suns, baby nose bulbs, and public swimming pools, I feel that this is the "need to know" brand of information. But part of me is like, goddammitalready!

Well, I guess I'll just have to tell our personal chef to be extra vigilant when shopping for the locally grown, organic, all natural, free range ingredients for the painstakingly prepared, nutritionally balanced, healthful, brimming-with-vitamins-and-antioxidants and yet oh so delicious meals we need three six nine times a day (because every time they ask for something specific and it is presented to them they want something that is not that at all and that we do not have a single ingredient for). Oh. Wait. I am the chef. And I don't have the freaking time for this shit.

Don't get me wrong. I want to feed my family well and I want to eat well myself but aside from the obvious problem that THEY PREFER DOG KIBBLE TO MY COOKING, there are the other pesky problems of not having limitless funds and time. Even Rachael Freaking Ray's alleged 30-minute meals take more than thirty minutes because I do not have all of the things that I need and even when I do they are not perfectly arranged and washed and chopped into one-inch squares in my fridge. And, p.s., Rachael Ray and Sandra Lee - the supposed time-and-money-saving Food Network gurus, use lots of things from boxes and cans, like we all do, because they save money and time! Also, I would like to point out, they are not cooking in the midst of a civil uprising of rabid baby koala bears. So there's that. I am not much into cooking shows or "reality television" in general but I think I just came up with the premise of the next big Food Network/reality TV hit - Top Toddler Chef. All meals to be prepared between 5 and 7pm, a.k.a. "The Witching Hour(s)." Each elimination round you throw another hangry toddler in the kitchen and the winner is the last one standing who hasn't (accidentally/on purpose) grilled a baby or (intentionally) committed harakiri with a ginzu knife.

But alright. Say I go spend twice as much for fresh, locally grown, golden fertilizer produce and magical pastured eggs and $20 a gallon raw milk from Whole Foods or Organic R Us or whatever. First of all, obviously, that's less money in my pocket. Second of all, it's less time, because that means I still have to go to another "real" store for cleaning products that actually clean and paper products that are more effective than wet kleenex at cleaning up spills, and are sold in more than a two-pack because sorry, "Mudder Erf," but my son thinks he has to use a new napkin every.single.time. he spills and he spills A LOT. We are attempting to disabuse him of this notion but it is taking some time. We have worked up to three wipes per napkin. It's a process. And don't even get me started on diapers (what about cloth diapers you ask? sorry. i highly admire you. but no.) and wet wipes and toilet paper needs with multiple toddlers in tow. Hey! Maybe we should just grow our own food? We have a pretty big backyard. I could probably fit a garden and a milking cow. I have always wanted a cow.... no wait. That was a pony. I wanted a pony.

Okay. So, the ingredients alone are costing me more money and more time. But even if Whole Foods had Costco prices and home delivery, someone has to cook this crap! And I suck at cooking. I made homemade baby food for the kids and was always surprised to receive (undeserved) kudos because let me tell you, it is not that hard, especially if you have an awesome and highly overpriced baby-food-preparing thingy (e.g., Beaba). It is twenty seven times harder to cook actual human person meals that are nutritious and that both small children and adults will enjoy eating. And DO NOT tell me to origami that shit into interesting shapes and/or elaborate dioramas or I will freaking cut you. Seriously. I believe you (sort of) that it inspires your children to actually eat their food but please see sections I. and II., supra, about not having time for that shit. See also, section III re: rabid koalas, above. And anyway. I do serve shapes. Hey. Look at this peanut butter and jelly sandwich! It's a square! Your orange is a circle, whee, fun! And grapes! Um - little circles! Alright! Farfelle = butterflies/bowties! Oh and bunnies and goldfish too - no assembly required! With a free side of carcinogens! Argh!

Sometimes I think to myself, really? I mean, is it really that bad? Most of my generation was raised on Froot Loops and that godawful Mac & "Cheese" and we all turned totally fine ... right??? Actually, not really, because something like 1 in 2 people will be diagnosed with some type of cancer at some point in their lifetime. WTF?! I mean, who knows if it's smog or cell phones or laptops or fruit loops or Monsanto or our collectively sinful souls or bad karma or some combination of the above, but if there's a chance of decreasing our risk, I guess we have to take it? Or, like everything else in life, "Do what you can, with what you have, where you are." (There she goes again with the quotes. That one's Theodore Roosevelt.) And sometimes all I have are chicken nuggets and toaster waffles. Don't judge.

Also - the FDA could maybe make it illegal to put cancer-causing shit in food sold for human consumption? Just a thought.


Just. No.
[From: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=
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i suck at short blog posts.

baby humans, benadryl pancakes, bath salts

"remember, you are not managing an inconvenience. you are raising a human being." - kittie franz*

A HUMAN BEING, people! that you MADE. and YOU, without having to take a test, or sign a contract (except the one that allowed the hospital and/or insurance company to violate you in ways wholly different than the baby did), or in any way prove your worthiness of such a momentous task, have been charged with bringing that little human being up in this crazy world - right and good and strong - and - just dysfunctional enough to be interesting ;) man, i'm afraid if i think too hard about this, my little brain will explode.

last night at bedtime both little critters had been liberally sipping the cuckoo koolaid. DM and i are both ragged and run down at the tail end of some brutal virus from those mutant daycare/preschool germs. he has a huge appeal due tomorrow and has been averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night for the past week or more. we briefly discussed benadryl pancakes (who doesn't love breakfast for dinner?!) but thought better of it. (KIDDING. i'm no coward. i don't need to hide my benadryl in breakfast foods. no. seriously. i really am kidding. i have never given my kids benadryl. mainly because DM and i both get nutty on nyquil and i am certain if i dosed my kids they'd turn into crazy bath salts zombie children on a cross-country flight.) anyway. it was my night to put Jack down, which is normally the "short straw" in our household, but he hadn't really napped and he went down without too much fuss. Colby, on the other hand, was putting up an uncharacteristic fight. finally DM just left her shrieking in her crib, closed the door, and said, "i'm just going to let her cry until she gets tired. i don't have the time or energy to battle with her right now."

i don't want to paint myself as the white knight here. normally DM has (MUCH) more patience with the kids than i, and since baby #2 arrived on the scene, has even taken the lion's share of middle-of-the-night wake-up-calls (after i batter him awake). but a) selfishly, i didn't want her to wake up Jack, and b) Colby really doesn't cry much, like for real, so when she does, i tend to take it more seriously. (being the seasoned parent that i am (ha!) i feel i can usually tell the difference between a "waa waa i want to watch more 'little einsteins'" cry and a "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!?" cry, and this was the latter.) i will freely admit that most nights, had this situation occurred, i probably would have been half pissy about it and would have gone in their muttering in my head, "i already did my job for the night but sure, i'll just do your job too, while i'm at it, and don't worry, this is totally what i want to be doing right now, i don't at all wish i was cozying up with a book in bed instead..." but for some reason, last night, i didn't mind at all. i went in and got her and jedi mind-tricked her** to sleep on my shoulder, and held and rocked her long after i could have safely put her back down in the crib. sorry if this is just sickly saccharine but i just savored every second of that giant baby resting her curly sweaty little (big) head in the crook of my neck, and thought about how Jack barely lets us do this anymore (sad face!), and our days of Colby-as-a-baby are numbered, and the baby shop is CERRADO, so opportunities like these are something i should feel thankful for, not resentful of. (maybe i'm just a jerk. maybe the more "mommy" moms always feel this way, relishing the bedtime battles and the late night/early morning wake up calls as bonding opportunities. but not me. i mean, i love my kids and often truly enjoy their company. but usually i'm also pretty darn ready for them to hit the hay at the end of the day!)

maybe i'm PMSing. this sort of sappy introspection is not like me. i normally have to restrain my gag reflex when people get all teary-eyed over leaving their kids for the weekend and 1st birthdays and preschool graduations (sorry sister), and i even sort of (lovingly) roll my eyes at DM when he insists we go in and look at them while they're sleeping. (admittedly, it is when they're at their very cutest. but usually i don't think it's worth the risk of waking them up.) probably tonight i'll be back to silently praying PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND EVERYTHING HOLY. GO. TO. SLEEP. and if/when someone wakes in the middle of the night, it'll be me crying WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!? but it was nice anyway. refreshing. a good moment. a good memory. and a good reminder that these little people aren't actually trying to ruin our lives. well, that's not true. sometimes they definitely are. but most times they're not and it's worth noting the difference. it's also worth remembering (at least, i often forget) that they are still so LITTLE and it's not fair to hold them to the same expectations as a grown adult. that is not to say they should be allowed to run roughshod over our lives. i think kids definitely need boundaries and rules and are generally capable of more than we give them credit for. but they are still kids. and they need the space and the freedom to do what kids do (gently trample over our lives ;)).

okay. the end. except for the other parts below.

* i love quotes. so many quotes. basically, i believe someone has already said every thing i could ever want to say, but better and pithier and more eloquently than me. regarding this quote in particular - check out this (and other) awesome ceramic plaques on etsy. i want them all. i dream of tiling a bathroom in them or something!

plaque: kittie franz quote. mbartstudios on etsy

this also applies to dogs. except not. because they're dogs. not humans. but at least, with humans, they eventually grow up and can leave home and get therapy and can blame you for everything bad in their lives. you are all your dog's (or cat's or rodent's) got. act accordingly.

** jedi-baby-mind-trick: this is a real thing. i think. unless i'm on crack. maybe someday i will provide a tutorial.

holy crap, this really is a four diamond hotel - they have gourmet butt wipes! (a post about marriage, kinda)

i feel a little bad because the title of this blog post would lead you to believe that the content is a lot more fun than it is. gotcha! sorry!

i actually did exclaim the above phrase when DM and I checked into our fancy hotel for our fifth anniversary celebration this weekend. i may not have found the butt wipes so enthralling had we not been wine tasting for the previous 4 hours, but i am still dreaming about that glorious goose-down cloud that they call a bed - a three letter word inadequate to describe the heaven that it entailed. sigh.

AAAAANYWAY. fifth anniversary. marriage. wedding. wine. i have been thinking a lot about marriage lately, what with the Prop 8 shenanigans in California and the two very important gay marriage cases due to be handed down by the Supreme Court any day now.

a little background. my mom and my (biological) dad divorced when i was 6 and my little sis was 2. when i was 7, my "step dad" came into our lives, and was an awesome, constant presence there until he and my mother died when i was 18 (we'll save the details of that for another time). i picked up the shorthand "step dad" fairly quickly, though he never officially/legally held that title. it was just easier to say than "my mom's significant other for the past ten years and the father of my little brother and he's definitely way more than just a live-in boyfriend." he and my mom had both been married before, and obviously it hadn't worked out, and they didn't feel the need to have some legally-binding arrangement to validate their love. (having to wend our way through the lengthy legal labyrinths of probate and my little brother's custody after their deaths, i later wished they had made it official, but again, that's another blog post.) they had the best relationship and the strongest love i have ever personally witnessed. they were kick-ass parents, to boot. i have never understood when people say they are staying together "for the kids" because i am fairly certain that my mom and dad's divorce and my mom and step dad's subsequent pairing saved me tens of thousands of dollars in therapy. granted, i had the normal "you're not my dad" fights with Stepdad, but he was just as much a parent, mentor, inspiration and guide as my mother and father. he also came from a rad family so i got a whole new bonus set of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and more. DM and I always lament, out loud, that we are not more like the Stepdadders. they are witty and wacky and outdoorsy and fun. they climb mountains and drink vodka and fix things and build their own cabins and reuse everything (they were 'green' before it was cool). they just don't make people like that anymore! i think my mom fell just as much in love with the Stepdadders as she did with Stepdad. they ended their first date naked hot-tubbing with Stepgma and Stepgpa - or as they called it - hot-tubbing :)

i could wax poetic about the Stepdaders for days, but i digress. the point is, Mom and Stepdad rocked, individually and as a unit. they weren't, and didn't need to be, legally married to have that kind of love, to be partners in life, to be parents together, of my sister and me, and of our brother, their son. they were married in everything but name. growing up, though, i must admit, their unconventional relationship status caused me quite a bit of grief. i went to a fairly conservative private school, and heard  the gamut of religious/conservative bullshit - your parents are sinners, they're going to hell... their sinny-ness is going to rub off on you and you're going to hell... hell, everyone's going to hell... (at least) one girl's parents even prohibited her from playing with me or coming over to my house, because surely i was a bad influence, coming from such soggy moral standing. (on a side note, my sister also attended this school, and i'm not sure how they felt about Mom and Stepdad "living in sin," but i do know that one of her friends was forbidden from hanging out with my sister after our parents died, because, you know, your parents dying in a terrible freak accident really effs with your moral compass, and social abandonment is super helpful in that regard. W.I.T.F.)

so yeah. that kind of sucked, but thank goodness i had some awesome friends who didn't care (and/or whose parents didn't care), and by the time i got to (public) high school, it didn't seem like that big a deal anymore. by the time i got to college, it had come full circle, and i was righteous, in the way that only 18 year olds can be, that i was never going to get married, and that i didn't need "some dumb piece of paper" validating my love and telling me what i already knew. of course, i did still want a large [conflict free] diamond providing said validation. but that's beside the point ;) i held this belief right up until the time when i thought DM, my (then) boyfriend of 5 years, was content being my boyfriend forever and ever. and ever. right about then that "dumb piece of paper" sounded like exactly what i needed!

"a piece of paper won't solve everything, but it's a damn good place to start!" (cue macklemore musical montage.)

happy ending. i got the diamond, the piece of paper (barely - i was caught offguard by nevada's stringent marriage license requirements!), the best husband and baby daddy in the world (or at least the tri-county area), and two sugary sweet little devil babies (it's all that sinning in my blood ;)) i hope some day soon everyone will be entitled to the same happy ending!

oh but that reminds me of something else - we had this great babysitter/post partum doula (i hesitate using the word doula, for fear you'll think i have my placenta in a calico lotus bag in the freezer ;)) back when Jack was a wee colicky little thing (as opposed to the large colicky thing he is now ;)) she was calm and kind and quietly astute. she was telling us that her son and her son's girlfriend had been together for 7 years and didn't plan on getting married because - can you guess? they didn't need "some dumb piece of paper" validating their relationship. i confided that i once held the same belief. she said, "i'll tell you what i told them - there have been times when 'that dumb piece of paper' was the only thing between me and a one-way ticket to mexico!"

i, thankfully, have not gotten there yet (well, i've sort of wanted to divorce one or more of my kids on occasion, but not my husband, yet,) but i am very well aware that the honeymoon doesn't last forever, and that you have to wake up every day, amidst the shit and the snot and the whining and the deadlines and the bills and the mortgage and the never-ending daycare plague and the constant sleep deprivation and the occasional sex embargoes and the petty annoyances and the actually-this-is-a-big-fuckin-deals, and also the snot and the whining, and decide to be married. and some days, hours, and minutes, this is (much) easier than others.

and in this vein, i came across this the other day and found it very wise:

"An Open Letter to All My Engaged and Newly Wed Friends" from The Amazing, Affordable Adventures of Mama, Bunny and Pip"

http://www.chicagonow.com/mama-bunny-pip/2013/06/an-open-letter-to-all-my-engaged-and-newly-wed-friends-out-there/

Whoa that was really long. Sorry. If you made it this far you get a special prize: my love. The End.

[Eight] years ago I married my best friend. I'm a little chubbier, wrinklier, and greyer, but she still looks as gorgeous as the day I met her!

sh*t my kids say

my kid is soooooo funny. he's like, if jon stewart and wanda sykes had a baby, except, white, and, not jewish. and maybe taller. anyway, i feel like he definitely has the makings of a career as a famous comedic actor, or would, if it wouldn't interfere with his career as a professional baseball player. i don't know though. he's suuuuuper gifted. i actually bet he could pull off both.

i'm just kidding. i just wanted to see what it would feel like to be one of those parents who says shit like that. i mean, he can be quite amusing, (i think that comes with the toddler territory), but he's also sort of strange and overly dramatic and a bit awkward and uncomfortable... sort of like cirque du soleil (also, his parents ;)).

my other kid is funny too. hilarious, actually, lately. but her vehement non-words don't really translate - ya kinda gotta be there. however, i'm pretty sure that, in addition to "up", "uh-oh", "flip-flop", "mama", "dada", "tissue", "choo-choo" and "grape", she says "Kyrgyzstan". perhaps she's formulating a winning plan for peace in the middle east. (it's those supercalifragilisticexpialidocious genes again! ps, spell check offered me the correct spelling of this word. color me impressed!)

i do understand that the following is probably less funny to those who did not make this little person with their private parts, but you might get a little chuckle out of it anyway.

....

Jackson Jay walked into our room one early morning and announced, "Jaguars eat chicken nuggets." And tigers love cinnamon! Alright!

"Don't call me Joe. [No one called him Joe.] I'm a giant robot monster bird." Naturally!

Watching his sister messily feed herself yogurt: "Colby! [Sounds like Kobe] You look like a hungry clown on a trampoline!"

While "watering the plants" a.k.a. haphazardly spraying the backyard with a hose [sorry Earth, or "Erf" as J calls it]- "Uh-oh, I better be carefoe not to 'pray dat airplane [flying 30,000 feet above me]!"

"I'm gonna tell a ghost 'tory [complete with a flashlight under his chin]. Once upon a time, dere was a ghost named Ghost. Dee End!" Good story, bro ;)

JJ thinks a joke/stunt/magic trick is still hilarious, even the 333rd time he tells/performs it. If I do not react with the requisite verve, he says, "No, Mama. Maybe you don't under'tand." When I stop [fake] laughing altogether, he gets sad and pouty, and when I ask what's wrong he says, "I'm disappointed becauuuuuuuuse, you not laughing at my jokes." I don't know if this is genetic or learned behavior. Either way, it comes from his father :)

"Colby, if you eat your vegetables you could grow into a big kid like me but right now you just a teeny tiny littow baby." [It bears noting that his sister is actually a bit of a behemoth and wears the same size pants as him... also that JJ has to be bribed to eat almost anything green (that trait would be from me - both traits actually- big bones and an aversion to leafy greens.)]

Me: Please don't put your finger in your nose. It's gross.
JJ: The inside of my nose is 'tinky. I'm trying to get da smell out!
Well then, by all means, carry on!

JJ: I'm in a foe-ethhht.
Me: You're in a foRe-eSt.
JJ: FORE-etht.
Me: Fore-ESSST.
JJ: I'm on a farm.

"Deese [bracelets] are very 'tylish. I'm goin' on a fancy date!"

"Fee Fi Foe Fum, I smell an English Muffin!"

Jack: MAAAAAMAAAAA, Sister called me BASHRAY!
Me: Is that bad?
JJ: YEs!
Me: Colby Jean! Do not call your brother bashray! [?]

JJ: "Three M&Ms! [For peeing.]"
Me: "Sorry bud, we're all out of M&Ms"
JJ: "Weeeew, you bettow have jelly beans, den!"
[or else?]

JJ: Why that truck has [s]team coming out of it?
Me: Well, because the exhaust is hot and the air is cold and that makes steam. [?]
JJ: Daddy already told me dat.
Me: Well then why did you ask me?
JJ: I wanted to check your answer.

After CJ splashed JJ in the bath, he said, "Colby, if you 'plash water in my eye again I'll give you a reason!" ?!?!

"Dis blanket jus' for decoration." Yes! Thank you child! This is a concept your father still fails to grasp!

"Colby, I'll protect you, cuz it's just a pretend monster." (Real monster and you're on your own :))

"I LIKE music! Dancing is FUN! Check out my MOVES!"

I was trying to kiss Jack to death and he said, "NO! You go over there [to the kitchen] and cook!" Oh goodie! Not even 3 years old and already reinforcing gender stereotypes! Well, except for his pink blankie and his powder blue toenails ;)

"Tinkle Tinkle Littow Tar"

JJ comes to give me a hug while I'm already in bed. "Mama, why you no wearing pants?" Me: Because I don't like to wear pants to bed. JJ: Only I wear pants to bed because my knees get cold!" That's as good a reason as any!

Anatomy Lessons

JJ [sounding alarmed]: Where's Colby's wiener?!?
Me: She doesn't have one because she's a girl.
JJ: [Pause, thinking.] She just has butts.
Me: Sure. We'll just go with that for now :)

When I'm getting dressed in the morning and I put on my bra, Jack says, "Mama, are you putting yo' bewbs on?" He's not entirely incorrect. DM refers to them as "false advertising" (caveat emptor, for my lawyer friends ;))

JJ solving the mystery of why he is unable to wipe his own ass:
"I think because my butt is crooked." Makes sense to me!

And the most recent horror of horrors - little boy boners. O.M.G. When waking up from a nap: "Mama, my wiener is [s]tuck!!!" Me: "Ummmmmm... Daddy??? Could you come in here please?????? Like, right now, please?"

Learning the Value of a Dollar

JJ sees a boat on TV.
JJ: I WAAAAANNNNIT
Me: Well how are you going to get it? Are you going to make some money?
JJ: Daddy gonna go to work and make some money.
Me: Really? What's he going to do with the money?
JJ: Give it to me.
Me: What are you going to do with it?
JJ: Buy a BOAT!

JJ hands DM a hot wheels car.
JJ: I got dis new car for you, Daddy.
DM: Cool, how'd you buy me a car?
JJ: With money.
DM: Where'd you get money from?
JJ: From a machine. [Obviously.]

JJ threw "his" iPod on the floor.
Me: Be careful or you'll break it and then you won't have an iPod anymore.
JJ: "Den I'll jus go buy a new one at da 'tore." [Like, duh.]

Unintentional Hilarity (if you have the sense of humor of a teenage boy)

When JJ was younger he called birdies "boodies", and his dad thought it was hilarious to ask him, "Is it a big birdie or a little birdie?" JJ would reply, "It's a BIG boodie!" Or "look at dat big boodie over dere!"

Nowadays, one of Colby's favorite games is to shove her brother off of the chair, couch, or bench on which he's perched. Sometimes Jack plays along. Other times he becomes enraged. Yesterday he started running around the living room like a mad man, yelling "COLBY 'TOLE MY POT! SHE 'TOLE MY 'POT, MAMA! GIMME MY 'POT BACK!" "Colby Jean. Kindly give your brother his 'pot back." Hope the NSA hasn't bugged our house!

Jack used to call his soccer ball "cock'n ball", and still calls his hockey stick a "hockey dick". He also loves to ride his  "cooter" "willy willy" fast...

Jack mixing some stuff in a wooden pot.
Me: Whatcha makin?
JJ: Blue ball soup.
YUM! I'd be willing to wait for that! ;)

"Fun Mom", or, You Know You're Getting Old When...

Note to self: Do not attempt headstands and other acrobatics outside of the yoga studio and/or unless under professional supervision.

Last night I was trying to be "Fun Mom." The kids and I were having a dance party, and Jack was showing me his super fly break-dancing moves that he learned God knows where. I felt I had to rise to the occasion so I hollered out, "Hey, watch this!" (like I was ten years old, which is probably the last time I actually pulled off a successful headstand), cavalierly flung myself into a headstand, and promptly fell ass over teakettle, almost breaking my neck and knocking out two small children in the process.

I (barely) slept, slathered in Tiger Balm* and resting gingerly on a heating pad. I had to have DM direct traffic for me as I pulled out of the driveway this morning, because I can't turn my head. So much for Fun Mom!

* By the way, have you ever gotten that sh*t in your eyes? Yowsah! I thought I was going to be paralyzed AND blind!

Ps - DM says I omitted one crucial element of this story - that after I botched the first headstand, I may or may not have tried two more times, despite the throbbing shooting pain in my neck...

Joan Cusack - Sixteen Candles - <3

good cop, bad cop

Signs that I am going to be the bad cop (as if i didn't already know):

Disclaimer: Husband, a.k.a. Daddy Mack a.k.a. DM a.k.a. the handsome hirsute man who sleeps in my bed and listens to 13% of what I say, is the super-awesomest dad and husband ever in the whole world. But. He is not a "Rules Guy." He can't even do Dad Voice with a straight face. He is definitely, 100% a "Yes Man"... which means I am the perennial bad guy. But hey, ya gotta play to your strengths, right?

Husband, explaining to my father the difference between our parenting philosophies: "She takes more of a preventative approach to bodily harm and imminent disaster. Me, I just sit back and watch and hope for the best. It usually works out alright."

I don't know who's more upset when I say it's time to turn off the cartoons and go to bed - Daddy or Jack.  Daddy and Jack can, and do, recite entire scenes from Cars, Nemo and Shrek like a couple of frat boys doing Dazed and Confused. The other night, during a date, DM spent five minutes setting up and delivering a joke from Bubble Guppies. When I didn't laugh, he said, "Wait, maybe I didn't explain it well," and was ready to try again. And yes, there is a show called Bubble Guppies. I'm not sure if my kids watch it, but my husband does :)

It usually takes DM about 2 hours to put Jack to bed, while it takes everyone else 30 minutes. Daddy Mack's explanation: "He didn't want to get out of the bath/he didn't want to brush his teeth/he wanted to read twenty-seven books/he wanted to order a pizza/he wanted to watch an entire movie at 9pm... what was I supposed to do?" Me: "I'm gonna let you in on a secret, my love. You are the boss. Well. I am the boss. But between you and our children, you are the boss."

This actually leads to a more general observation of our divergent parenting styles - Me: "Do you want to brush your own teeth, or do you want me to brush them for you?" DM: "Do you feel like brushing your teeth? No? Okay how about later?" [P.S. - "Later", in toddler language, is somewhere between 3 minutes and infinity.]

Husband, to one year old: "Okay, you can hit the [fragile, expensive, glass, pendant] light one more time, but that's it."

Husband, to toddler: "Yes, you can take your yogurt into the ball pit, just try not to spill it."

Husband, after letting the baby play with, and break, overpriced video monitor: "Shit. I mean shoot. Well, it still works, sorta. Maybe we should just put it up high so she'll forget about it." Me: "Or, we could be parents, and say, 'No, sweet pea, that's not a toy." Husband: "Yeeeeaahhh, that's not gonna happen." Me: "Wishful thinking."

Husband, after baby pitched, and broke, mama's iPhone: "See, this is why we should not have expensive things. By the way, did you see that arm? Eh? Eh?" Me: "Yeah... or... we could be parents and tell our children no from time to time." Are you noticing a theme here? But no. That would just be silly, Mama :)

Baby Colby was sitting on Daddy's lap at the table, vigorously pushing a bowl of milk around with a fork. The object of the game appeared to be sloshing the entire contents of the bowl onto the table top. After my pointed stares failed to elicit the desired reaction, I said, "That's probably not the best idea?" so he took away the milk and gave her the Heath Ceramics salt shaker. Me: "That's probably not the best toy either." Him: "Why not?" Me: "Because those are $45 salt and pepper shakers. And they're breakable. And I don't want those dirty little paws touching where my salt comes out." Him: "Oh my God. Why do we have $45 salt and pepper shakers?" Me: "Good question."

Husband puts baby down on glass-topped coffee table, between two glasses of wine and a large potted cactus. Me: "Uh, that's probably not the best place for her to hang out." Him: "Why not?"

Jack (2.5 years old) is the one who has to remind Daddy (37 years old) of his table manners. And for this, I am actually thankful, because when I asked if he could please try to NOT talk with his mouth full now that we have two little mimics in tow, his response was, "Nope." Me: Disbelieving stare. Him: "Look, I'm not trying to be defiant or anything. I've just got 37 years of bad habits in place and that's probably not changing any time soon." Me: Resigned sigh. Oh well! Maybe mini Mr. Manners will have better luck than I :)

Out at a restaurant. Colby, sitting on DM's lap, puts her feet on the table. I say "No feet on the table, please." So DM takes off her shoes, and Colby proceeds to put her bare feet on the table. Me: "Um, no feet on the table. It doesn't make it any better just because you took her shoes off." DM: "It makes it a little better." NO IT DOES NOT omg.

In our house, the saying goes, "Don't make me call your mother." (But they don't really worry because they know he never will! :))

When DM makes his "mean/serious" face, the children laugh hysterically.

Shoot. DM read my first post and said it was good, but, "Make the next one shorter." Fail. Words! Too many words!

courtesy of google images/
http://www.lolgallery.com/police-women-in-action/1830-police-woman-in-action/
"Funny Pictures Gallery along all funny Girls stuff!"
Sounds intriguing, no?
 

Hump Day Hookup #27 on AMotherLife.com