I Miss This

The last few weeks I’ve been thinking about how I don’t have a place to write about my kid stories and my mom stories. I’ve been thinking about how much I missed my blog friends. Then the other day I mentioned I once ran a mommy blog for years, and the person asked me about it. After I explained, she said wow, what an amazing experience. And it was.

So I’m going to start blogging again. I can’t promise I can do it regularly. I’m hoping to do write Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with a weekend post every now and then. You see, now I’m a full time teacher, and this is my first year teaching all Freshman under the new curriculum. Tuesday nights are karate nights… for the boys. Thursday is Cub Scout and Boy Scout nights …  for us all. But Monday is Nerd Night, and Friday is Art Night … both for me. Wednesday is Kung Fu night, but that’s only for Tornado A, and he’s done by 6:30.

This might not even work out, since I now call, email, and write my federal legislators every day. I’m looking forward to the day I can write to my state legislators. I’m working on my poetry, and I’m editing a manuscript. But who isn’t? I’m studying Spanish. Note to self, work on Spanish later. I’m also studying to take the history and government test in the summer because why wouldn’t I want to be qualified to teach more subjects? I don’t plan on giving up journaling again because that’s for me. Please, Lord, someone burn those when I die.

Beyond that, I’m raising three active, smart, funny boys, living with my parents, and fighting depression. Now you know why I keep a journal. Next stop, meditation. When I get the time.

Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.


Summer ends this week.


Where did it go?

It was here a minute ago.

I want to go do something A-MAZING with the boys on their last day.

I’m not sure what.

On the other hand, I’ve been scouring YouTube for the perfect scene for the post I’ve been working on. . . for . . . um. . .days.

Also I have no idea what a Gif is. I do. But not really. Magic. And how to make one. Magic and trolls and gnomes.

Back to looking for this perfect video. . . .

Dieting on Facebook

I’ve already had a post on things I don’t like about Facebook.  Talking about dieting is another thing.  I have a few health fanatics among my friends.  Health fanatics is the polite term.  Obsessed with being thin is probably more accurate.  But I hate the diet memes.

If you believe this, then you haven’t lived, and you don’t know how to cook or you’ve never been to a good restaurant.  You live a sad little life.  You’re missing so much!  I can think of amazing clam chowder, brilliant sushi rolls, chocolate shakes that complete one’s soul, fried chicken that built an amusement park, ice cream that haunts dreams, steaks that melted like butter.  I’ll pass on being skinny.

I’m most concern with “blowing hours of hard work in the gym for a few minutes of pleasure in the kitchen.”  Why most it be either or?  Why can’t you have both?  Why not spend a few minutes on pleasure?  Why am I thinking this had some sort of implications about sex?

This is just sick.

Because when you’re with friends, all you care about is how you look.  You should surround yourself with fat chicks.  Then you will always feel pretty.  Or you could have real friends who support and love you, make you laugh, let you be yourself, and make you fight for the fries that moments ago you said you shouldn’t eat but hey! no one steals my fries.


Let’s get some ice cream.  I know a great place for milk shakes.

Facebook friends, you’re annoying

I’m a little annoyed with certain people on Facebook right now.  Or I should say I’m annoyed by a certain behavior that a few of my Facebook friends exhibit.  Let’s call it the “Perfect Parent” behavior.

It starts out with those memes.  “Like if your kids are the best kids in the whole world.”  “Like if your kids are your whole world.”  “Like if you love your kids more than anything.”  God.  I’m not a fan of the “like if” craze any ways.  I mean of course I hate cancer, support the troops, hope that kid’s parent stops smoking, hope that kid gets his/her dog/pony/elephant.  And of course, my kids are my favorite kids that I love more than any other kid in the whole world.  Well, except for that little girl in Monster Inc.  I’d take her in a heart beat.  Perhaps over my kids.  Maybe.

One day I’m going to respond to those posts with “Like if your kid’s acting like a brat and you want to lock him outside until he learns some manners but I love him anyways.”  Yeah, that’ll show them.

But those memes aren’t even the worse.  There some really weird ones.  I especially hate “You’ll be his first love, his first kiss, and his first friend.  You are his mommy, and he is your whole world.  He is your little boy.”  First off, I added the comas.  I was going to leave it as it appears all over Facebook and Pinterest, but then I developed a tick.  Second, no.  No, no, no.  There’s something so off and weird and f-ing wrong to say you are your son’s first love and first kiss.  Because when we say “First Love”  and “First Kiss” as in “my first love”  and “my first kiss,” we do not mean our parents, who loved us unconditionally and covered our bodies with kisses and loved us to pieces.  When we say “my first kiss,” we’re talking about that awkward first kiss from someone who likes us and not a family member.  When we say “my first love,” we talk about that first person we fell in romantically in love with, not our family members.

On top of this, the people who do these meme on my Facebo0ok are people I know.  Most of them are crappier parents than I am.  I’m sorry, but you can’t claim “World’s Best Mom” or “I love my kids more than anything else in the world” if you let your ex take them from you and rolled over so that you can live your life without them.  You don’t get to be a crappy parent and act like you were awesome.  (Ok, you can.  But people like me can call you out on that BS.  I’ll be happy to.)

But my favorite annoyance is the friends I know in person that I know about them who write personal things like “I just caught my kids reading and giggling an hour after bed time; how can I punish them when they’re so darn cute.”  Really?  It’s easy.  You do.  It’s a school night; they broke the rules; you handle that.  Also, I wouldn’t say punish as much as discipline them.  Or “My oldest two have reached the age where they don’t fight anymore, and now the second and third are always fighting.”  Unless your eldest has moved out of the house, which is doubtful because he’s seven, this is just a phase.  Which I couldn’t help myself and wrote.  (The “it’s a phase” part because I try not to be a total bitch on Facebook.)  Tomorrow those two are going to have a huge fist-flying fight over a stupid toy that you have double of.  Because they are siblings.  Or my favorite favorite over the last week, “Oh my god, my kid woke my up at 7:30; I don’t know why she’s up so early.”  Don’t even f-ing talk to me.  Don’t.  Until you have a child starts screaming for you at 5:45, don’t even mention an early morning wake up call.

(Not really in the same category but still made me want to type something was a friend complaining about how her 2yr old threw her shoe out the window on the freeway as my friend drove 85 miles an hour.  Questions: Why was your window down while you drove the freeway?  Why were you driving that fast with your window down?  Why were you driving that fast around the town on the freeway?  Did you learn nothing when you got your first speeding ticket on your 16th birthday all those years ago?)

In conclusion, we all know you love your kids, we all know your kids are awesome, and I don’t mind seeing and liking millions of cute pictures and cute little tidbits about your kids.  Just let’s be authentic.  Or at least humorous with our lack of authenticity.  Also, you can’t claim you did an awesome job parenting when your kid is doing time for assault and burglary.

Open Letter to the Boy Scouts of America

I just heard you were considering lifting the ban on keeping gay leaders and boys out of Boy Scouts.  Congratulations.  Admitting there is a problem is the first step.  The second is healing.

Just tp assure you that I know who you are, I was a Girl Scout for eight years.  I worked in the organization for two.  My brothers were both Boy Scouts.  My parents were very involved in their troop.  My baby brother made Eagle Scout.  My eldest son is working on his Wolf Badge.  My middle son wants to join as soon as he’s old enough.  I’m sure my third son will follow his brothers’ footsteps.  So I have a vested stake in your organization.  I believe in a lot of things you do.  Except the bigotry.  I think it is my responsibility to discuss sexual orientation and religious beliefs with my children, and those beliefs and personal understanding has nothing to do with you.

Personally, I think you’re a little confused.  I’m sure when you came up with the ban you thought you were protecting boys.  You were keeping them from being indoctrinated into the gay lifestyle.  I don’t know about you.  But there was never an older boy who took me aside and indoctrinated me into the heterosexual lifestyle.  I assure you my father would have taken care of that boy.  Nor did I chose the heterosexual lifestyle.  It is just part of who I am. 

Now that we established that none of us “chose” to be the sexual lifestyles we are, we can discuss what else you were trying to protect those boys from.  You were trying to protect them from sexual predators.  You were afraid that some gay older boy of 17 will make sexual advances on some young, impressionable boy of 14.  Let’s work on that scenario.  What if it was some straight older boy of 17 who decides to make sexual advances on some young, impressionable little sister of another scout on a camping trip?  What would you do?  How would you feel?  If you’re not outraged and disgusted, then we have a much bigger problem here.  The correct answer is you deal with the boy who is making unwanted advances with strict discipline and a call to the police.  What if it was a young leader of 22 making sexual advances of a sixteen-year-old sister of another scout?  Again, the feeling should be disgust and outrage, and the action should be a strict disciplinary action and a call to the police..  What if a female adult leader or a mother makes sexual contact with one of the boys?  Again the feeling should be disgust and outrage, and the action should be strict disciplinary action and a call to the police.  Sexual predators are about taking advantage of their authority, their power, to thrust themselves on someone weaker.  It’s not about gay or straight.  It’s about power.  If you ban gays, you let the monsters who claim heterosexuality just waltz in.  If you  need an example, Jerry Sandusky.

There is your practical answer for the conservatives.  The new policy should be about protecting boys from predators.  “There should be no inappropriate touching, sexual advances, or relationships.”  Have your lawyers work it out.

But if we want to talk about the emotional impact, let’s think of the Boy Scout, who has just come to terms he is gay.  This boy must feel very alone and scared and worried.  What will his parents think?  What will his family think?  What will his friends think?  What about his leader and troop?  You are telling him to lie if he wants to stay in the Boy Scouts.  You’re telling him not to be morally straight, not to be honest with himself or others.  You’re asking him to go against his oath that you have made him swear at every Boy Scout function.  You’re telling him not to be brave, like it says in your laws.

What do you teach all the other boys in your organization?  They shouldn’t be loyal to their gay friends.  They shouldn’t be kind, friendly, or courteous to gay people.  They shouldn’t be brave, helpful, or trustworthy towards gay people.  That’s the problem with bigotry, it undermines all the good in the world.

So Boy Scouts of America, are you going to live up to your oath and law?

Commercials and Real Life

(Why yes, I should be doing stuff to prep for tonight and tomorrow, but I really wanted to write a blog, and f- it, if it means I have to stay up later wrapping gifts.)

I rarely get to watch commercials because we are an antenna TV/ Netflix household.  When I do watch commercials, it’s when I’m watching The Daily Show online, which means I am not the demographic they are shooting for.  I get to see them when we’re at my parents’ house, and often when I laugh out loud to one, my mom rolls her eyes because she’s seen the commercial a million and two times.

I like the Galazy S 3 commercial with the dad leaving for a trip and his kids give him a video to watch while he’s on the plane, and then his wife gives him a video to watch, um, later.  I find it cute.  Sweet sexual intimacy between a married couple that is subtle and funny.  Like it should be in real life.

But my new favorite commercial is this.  The same exact concept but with Santa and Mrs. Clause.  I love it because they are an older couple who are still in love and still want each other.  We don’t think of older couples being sexy or having a sex life.  We are happy to assume when people become grandparents they give that whole thing up for the younger people.  We don’t see it in our media.

I like it for the same reasons one of my favorite bloggers, The Fem Spot, likes Phyllis Smith 0n The Office.  Phyllis is an older woman, heavy-set, motherly, and yet, her husband finds her insanely attractive and wants her.  Like all the time.  It’s sweet and cute.  It’s real life, turning conventional media on its head.

And I like it when real life is cute and sweet.  Like it should be. Like I want my life and my relationship.   And God, I hope I’m attractive to someone when I have grey hair and wrinkles.

A post about nothing in particular

There’s not much to say.  I’ve been buried in school work.  My last 5-week class had a huge amount of reading and writing every week.  This class promised to be less.  Except I went away for four glorious days without the kids.  I figured I would enjoy myself more if I didn’t have to worry about work that needs to be done and finding the time to do it and borrowing someone else computer and pray that the internet connection would hold up.  So I pushed myself and got it all done early.  Then I saw last weeks pile of work.  The two largest chapters in the book, a 90 page booklet, a 30 minute web video, 2 papers, and of course the online discussion, which started Thursday, meaning all the reading was “suppose to be” done by then.

My father gave a rousing speech about how ridiculous it was to have assignments due on Thanksgiving weekend.  It was beautiful.  It was one of those moments where a huge American flag drops down behind them and “America the Beautiful” starts playing in the background.  I wanted to give him a standing ovation.  Instead I said, “That’s all well and good, Dad, but their excuse is that I could have done the work early if I didn’t want to do it over the weekend.  This is the price I pay for an accelerated program.”  God, I tried explaining to him about holiday day pay and temporary or part-time retail workers, and he just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea people have to put up with a lot of sh*t to get a job.  Ah, city employees, sometimes their jobs are pretty sweet.

My mom maintains that the reason I’m doing so well in school is because I’m older and taking it more seriously.  Mom, you have me confused with my brother.  You know your child that took 8 years to get his bachelors.  I’m the one who made Dean’s List all semesters but one, who graduated with almost a full year’s worth of credits over what I needed, who was invited to be on the English Honor Society, Sigma Tau Delta.  (To be young and an STD)  No, I’m doing well because I didn’t bite off more than I could chew in classes.  (I totally bit off more than I can chew in life, but you know, that’s life.)

This week I have ONE chapter to read and ONE paper and just ONE discussion question.  I’m thrilled by all that free time.  I can blog!  I can read blogs!  (Seriously, people are going to think I don’t like them any more.)  I can email my friends!  (See, last aside.)  I can call and text my friends!  (Um, again, the aside before the aside.)  I can study history!  I can start on next week’s project!  I can start on Christmas gifts!  I can shop online!  I can do chores!

I’m obviously getting a little overexcited about the “free” time and the exclamation points.  But those are a nickle a dozen.  In reality, I’ll catch up with what needs to be done and not feel like something is breathing down my neck.  If I was smart, I would be home finishing this up and starting the phone calls that HAVE TO BE DONE, and that I think I’m avoiding.  Instead, I’m at my parents’ house because Tornado A was so damn cute asking to be with my mom and my mom invited me to lunch, which didn’t happen, but hell, at least I can blog.