Keep Your Religion Out of My Superbowl.

“Ladies,  please remember that while you’re watching the Superbowl ads that no one has a better grasp on what women should and shouldn’t do with their bodies than Heisman trophy winners who’ve never had sex.”

Thanks to my high school classmate Mr. Reams for summarizing my thoughts so very eloquently.

Also: Go COLTS!

Shall we compare our hearts to a garden

My little boy is in love.

Okay, puppy love.

Still.

The first time I ever heard him say her name was Friday.  His best friend was absent that day and he was looking around for another playmate at school and there she was.  He mentioned her in the car on the way home.  He mentioned her at the table when we were looking at the map.  He talked about her twice on the way to our favorite restaurant.

That night, having finished their before bedtime chapter of Stuart Little the Bear looked up at the ceiling, smiled and sighed a deep and content sigh.  Daddy pants asked what he was thinking about and here came the reply, “Oh, ” he says dreamily to the plaster above his head, “I’m just thinking about T and her tiny little chair.  She has the smallest chair in the class……it’s so, little.”

At his school the desks and chairs are varying heights so the children can rest their feet on the ground while they sit,  the Bear has the biggest chair in the class because he is tall.

Since then he has drawn her a picture and asked to play with her several times.  She popped up unexpectedly in conversations all over the weekend.  He talked about her so much that DP felt the need to tell him more or less, “there are plenty of fish in the sea”  but the boy ain’t buying it.

Then today, he wandered into the living room where I sat reading, a look on his face like a light being turned on.  After months of little girls talking about how they have crushes on him he said to me: “Mama! I know who I have a crush on.”  Pulling my face into a most convincing curious look I asked who the lucky lady was.

“A girl in my class….T!”  With that he skipped back into the dining room to finish up his pretend basketball game.

Oh, my heart.

Shall we compare our hearts to a garden -
with beautiful blooms, straggling weeds,
swooping birds and sunshine, rain -
and most importantly, seeds.
-G. Livingston

$#^$*&@!!!

My love affair with cursing began at a young age. Hunkered down behind the jungle gym, khaki colored dust shaded the knees of my jeans as Jackie Moran colored my language with words overheard from her mother’s boyfriend. The shadow of diagonal bars fell over her forehead, creating a sinister uni-brow as she spoke the words, “Fucking, motherfucker.” In a hushed, reverent tone I repeated them back. Unfortunately, we had not been vigilant in our hideout for this exchange. The words rode the wind, swirled around the dome, in and out of the large triangular holes, finally reaching the ears of one Kirby Foxx, who in turn, let fly a few words of his own. Our teacher’s name rang through the schoolyard as Jackie and I dashed in opposite directions.

It was no use. The crime was reported and soon I found myself in a hard red plastic chair being reprimanded by my mother. My mother was not surprised that I was swearing, being that I am a descendant of a long and proud tradition of off-color commentary. I spent nearly every afternoon with a lady who has been nicknamed my “Cursing Granny”. A stately woman with strong olive colored arms and a wavy silver ponytail; my grandmother was the kindest lady you could meet…unless you crossed her. She would slice you up one side and down the other with a litany of expressions that would prove any sailor proud. Later on, when I was in high school, I heard her call an eleven-year-old girl a “little bitch” because the child had a snarky attitude. My boyfriend of the time, snorted into the bend of his elbow, trying desperately to mask his giggles. Granny turned her cobalt eyes on him and stated, “Well, she is a bitch and I reckon I won’t be the last to say so.”

Additionally, my own mother had a rather salty vernacular, especially when doing things that involved screws, which could be dropped and lost forever in our grayish-blue shag carpeting. The hanging of curtain rods was particularly colorful, peppering the air with, “Goddammit!” and “Son of a bitch!” every minute or so.

No, it was not the act itself which warranted the stern “talking to” I received (although I was reminded that those words were not for children – those being curse words in general). It was the level at which I had made my debut. Always the overachiever, I had gone for the gold.

Truthfully, I had no idea what fuck meant when I said it (twice) within earshot of that snot-nosed tattle tail Kirby. The words were magical simply because they were new, novel and strange, a small artifact from the world of grown-ups. However, once the smack down from my parents began I realized there was another aspect: these words were powerful. They elicited a reaction from my parents that was unprecedented. My father physically blanched before my eyes, his sun darkened skin dropping to a funeral home white the moment my mother whispered in his ear precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

I stand before you two decades older and wiser, a wife, a mother and an upstanding citizen. I have long since past the point where cursing is novel or meant to shock. Now when I think of cuss words, I think of the rhythm they give a sentence, the emphasis they bring to a conversation. Ponder for a moment the lyrical complexity of, for example, “Goddamn motherfucking cocksucker!” Say it aloud; I’ll wait, go ahead and say it. Can you say that’s not just breathtaking syntactically? The words form stair steps leading you right to the guts of a person.
I adore cuss words, but if I learned anything from that day behind the jungle gym it is this: there is a time and place for everything. Not at my job, not in front of the kids, not when speaking to untested listeners, but they are always present, caught before the make it to my mouth.

Next time we speak, imagine what I would say if the net was lifted, all of my forbidden, magical words flopping toward sweet freedom.

Why Wait Until Two When You Can be Terrible Today?

 

E-Train has been 19 months old for 15 days and at least 10 of those have been in a word: terrible.  My young man has discovered hitting, screaming, and the always enchanting: biting. Outings have become sketchy.  One day he is an angel at the grocery store; hugging his brother, waving to the clerks, flirting with old ladies, singing and clapping his dimpled hands with sweet smile.  The next day a simple lunch out results in a screaming tantrum during which I am hit repeatedly in the face, lasting a  full ten minutes.  For the record ten minutes is exactly how long it takes to convince the patronage of a Penn Station to never, ever procreate. (Ever.)  Also: did you know that the people at Penn Station (the sub shop, not the iconic New York landmark) will wrap up your food if you look pathetic enough.

 

Yesterday, after being smacked upside my head,  my generally sweet toddler roared as I held his hands gently but firmly entoned “Warm strong hands don’t hit.” and kissed his little anger flattened face.

 

 

 

That was the moment he decided to bite my finger….HARD.

 

I yelped.

 

The husband rushed in with a carrot, “We bite our carrot, not our Mama.”, he said firmly only to be met with a chunk of carrot which flew back toward his face.

 

The strategies which worked so well with the Bear were failing us and we felt helpless.

 

Today is Tuesday.  On Tuesdays DP leaves as the sun wakes up but before we do to drive nearly two hours to the east to attend classes and teach (he is a doctoral student for those of you not in the know).  I came downstairs to find the car seat had went with him.  I was stranded at home with the munchkin.

 

Thus our day began with a teensy bit of television, after one show I shut it off and began reading for school while E pushed a train about the carpet.  Once finished with that he asked, “Mama, draw?” So I set him up with crayons and paper and let him go to work as I checked my email.  After a snack I did the dishes as he “helped”.  Then I hula hooped while singing a medley from Blue’s Clues,  “Itsy Bitsy Spider”, “Twinkle Twinkle” and “Chicka Boom” in rotation for twenty minutes. 

 

Basically, I did what I used to do when J was little. I went about my business while including him.  Doing chores, exercising, reading while keeping him in my orbit.  Push and pull, give and get.  Lunch was had sitting on the floor next to him.

 

Then came nap.  I dreaded nap.  I tried to get him to sleep for an hour and a half, fruitlessly, yesterday.  So today I tried something different.  From the back of my brain I brought up the old nap time routine we had for J.  Diaper change, washing hands and face, two stories and a song, then snuggle to sleep.  And he went down easy as pie.

 

Today I was hit zero times, bitten zero times, kissed and hugged and snuggled.

 

Today was a good day.

 

 

 

Here We Go Again

I wish I had some amazing narrative to put down here.   A quest to detail, a journey, a trial, something fantastic to excuse my absence from this bit of space I have stuck my flag into…but I do not.

What have I been doing in my absence? Mostly, I’ve been memorizing the way my baby laughs and cherishing his giggly “Mama”.  I’ve been bested at Uno by the Bear.  School started and I’ve been up to my ears in reading for my classes, some wonderful (Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel) others ghastly (The Bees by Dan Chaon) or just downright boring (Puritanical ravings from American Lit).  Working, hanging out with the family, sleeping an extra hour in the morning thanks to my wonderful husband and just generally being.

I am told I should be writing at very least seven hours per week. Last week, I turned in a paper that I spent maybe 3 hours work on tops, and that was the ONLY writing I did that week.  I am writing this not just as an update, but to give myself a starting point.

Remember that old dragon, fear parading about the blank page? Well she’s been back. This time I am feeling stuck, (“like a question unposed”).  I have two writing classes and I feel like I have nothing to write about and whatever I do write will not be good enough for the professors I so desperately wish to impress. I have to control this fear,  to remind myself that I am a student and I am in that desk to learn and to improve. Neither of which will be possible if I let the blank page win.

I’m working on it, starting with this small insignificant smattering of lines, typed up from the streaming, unedited, bubbling brook of brain farts that is me right now.

I assure you there will be another post with pretty pictures coming soon.

Reflecting

*yawn* *stretch* *sigh*

Huh?

What time is it?

I haven’t written a blog since when?

Crap, I’m late.

Crap, crap, crap.

Now I’m going to have to go into the blog with my hair uncombed wearing my sleeping shirt.  Oh well, c’est la vie.

Happy 2010 Everyone! I’m your host, Breedermama and unfortunately I found the last month of the decade to be too full of other things to bother with blogging or even reading many blogs.  But boy how I’ve missed all the blogitude.  Therefore I’m coming back in full meme fashion. (This one from bluemilk)

1.What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?

I submitted a piece to a literary publication.  That’s right, in fact I submitted SEVERAL pieces to various journals and magazines.  Six poems and a short story.  All during the month of December.  Do I expect anything to come of it? Nope. But I put myself out there and I’m damned proud of it.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I had several resolutions last year and I don’t seem to have recorded them anywhere so I’m not certain I kept all of them.   I do remember one being to go back to school and kick total ass – mission accomplished with straight A’s last semester  (Ok, it was just part time – but I still think it qualifies as kicking ass).  Another was to be happier in my job – another win.  Got promoted to a position I find much MUCH less stressful and easier to come to.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Two of my three sisters, my cousin’s wife and a couple of friends all had adorable little ones who were born in 2009.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yes, we lost my niece Victoria Nicole Johnson, known as Pinky when she was only a few weeks old due to a heart condition and failed transplant.  Also a dear family friend died just before Thanksgiving due to a surgery complication.  They are both sorely missed.

5. What countries did you visit?

Imaginationia, Boneville and The United States of Awesome.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?

More time spent appreciating what I have rather than looking for what I do not have.  A more forgiving budget and a greater body image.  More days just hanging out in our pj’s with my family.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

There are many, the day my nephew and niece were born, the day my niece died, the day E-Train turned one, the day J-Bear turned seven, the day E first said “Mama”, spending an entire day at a theme park with only my big kid, time away at the cabin,  the tenth anniversary of the first time my husband and I kissed, sunny days and rainy ones.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Besides the promotion,  grades and successfully wading through the murky depths of parenting the emotional, challenging and constantly changing habits of a seven year old and a toddler simultaneously?  Being able to get a hula hoop to go from my waist up to my shoulders and onto the tips of my fingers….and back down again without stopping.

9. What was your biggest failure?:

Not spending enough one on one time with my little Bear. I need to be more proactive about this.  In fact I am going to add it to our Google Calendar with a reminder. Once a day something small (a game), once a week something bigger (an errand without the baby), once a month an outing with one of us.  Plan made, calendar updated, GO 2010!

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?:

I had what I am 99% sure was the swine flu.  My back actually made it through 2009 pretty smoothly.

11. What was the best thing you bought?:(was bought for you)

My Dyson vacuum.  Yes, I know.  But it is.  The Hubs and I loooooooove it. It is the first vac we’ve had that didn’t crap out suction wise within six months.  It’s so fabulous that people actually want to “test drive” it on my floor…which I of course allow.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Bear.  He has been through some major changes through this year (we moved across the river; his baby brother became a walking, talking, toy taking, puzzle scattering, messing-up-your-drawing wild man; his uncle moved in with us; Daddy started commuting out of town three days a week; and First Grade with it’s crushes and bullying behaviors and peer pressure.) and he’s been such a good kid. Still extremely helpful, sweet, charming and friendly.  He is a wonderful child and we are constantly in awe of how amazing he is.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

I’d rather not dwell on that, Kthnx!

14. Where did most of your money go?

Food – groceries, eating out, etc.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Becoming an aunt!  My husband graduating with his MA and moving on to a PHD program! My baby walking! Then talking! Then dancing! J learning to ride his bike, Halloween costumes, planning a surprise party (for some bearded folks I know),  just being alive.

16. What songs will always remind you of 2009?

“Dennehy” -Seregeti,  “Rich Girl” – Hall and Oates, (both of which provided much laughter and joy through this year…the songs not Hall and Oates)  “You and Me Dancing” – Los Campesinos, everything from  She and Him Vol. 1 and Neko Case’s  Middle Cyclone both played constantly in the car,  “Pretty Bird” – Jenny Lewis,  my guilty pleasure “Single Ladies” – Beyonce and several songs from Yo Gabba Gabba that will pretty much never leave my brain.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i) …happier or sadder?

Happier, I think.

ii) thinner or fatter?

Thinner.  But I did have a small infant this time last year.

iii) richer or poorer?

Richer – definitely in experiences, and wonderfully in friends.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Playing with J.  Sitting quietly along side my old man.  Visited my family.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Spending money and working.

20. How did you spend Christmas?:

At home.   Which we were unable to do last year since our place was too small to accommodate everyone.  Christmas Eve we baked cookies for Santa (per the Bear’s request), read Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and recited The Night Before Christmas as best as we could from memory (being that we couldn’t find either of our TWO copies of the book at the time),  we hung our stockings by the chimney with care, tucked our little ones into bed and then had a wrapping party with one of my most beloved lady friends as DP wrestled with a turkey carcass and prepared the viddles for morning.

Christmas Day was sunny and full of scraps of paper flying off of presents which were excitedly received by the Bear.  E-Train ripped paper gladly and was quite in the spirit of it.  Family arrived, gifts were exchanged, stories told, food eaten.  The night ended with my husband, my brother-in-law and I watching The Hangover amongst the wreckage while sipping wine and feeling stuffed.

22. Did you fall in love in 2009?

I fell more in love with my husband than ever before.  We really seem to work on the same frequency these days and there have been few true arguments.

23. How many one night stands?

I don’t own any night stands – our bedroom isn’t big enough with the toddler bed and King and all….

**Bah-dum-cha!**

24. What were your favorite TV programs?

Dexter, Mad Men, The Office

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

No, I’m working on not hating anyone….except Hitler, that dude totally deserves it.

26. What was the best book you read?

The Graveyard Book – Neil Gaiman or The Road -Cormac McCarthy – although it was also the most depressing thing I’ve read in a long time.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Neko Case,  I had never really listened to her before and I was missing out.

28. What did you want and get?

Happy, healthy kiddos,  time alone with the husband and a netbook.

29. What did you want and not get?

A pair of brown flats that I actually like.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?

This is difficult…but I want to say Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince because I just love revisiting that world so much. (And we re-watched it last night and it totally stood up to repeated viewing).

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 29 and we went out to eat on the actual day.  There was also a Hedwig and the Angry Inch themed birthday party for a dear friend and I.  Both good days.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

More time off.   More time for family.  More time for writing.  More time for yoga.  MORE TIME!

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?

Crazy out of control wavy hair, bangs,  A-line skirts, sweaters, long tank tops, knee length black boots, scarves.

34. What kept you sane?

My husband’s grounding influence,  random dance parties,  long emails, phone calls,  my sister (Boo), my parents, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law and their tireless dedication and love for my kids and chocolate.

35.Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Micheal C. Hall (because I love creepy sexy),  Jon Hamm (because he looks good in everything),  Seth Rogen (he’s just so darned likeable) and Zooey Deschanel (because she’s about the cutest thing EVER and she can sing).

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Same-sex marriage and the absolute idiocy surrounding health care reform (WHY, oh why can people not read about a subject or at least watch more than the O’Reilly factor before they form an opinion on something? DO some research before you go make a sign. GAH!)

37. Who did you miss?

A lot of people.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

My nephew and niece.  Runner up positions go to people who existed before this year, especially my darling co-conspirator on Did and Did Not, the Divine Ms. Em.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009

If you wait for the perfect time, you might run out of chances.  Jump in with both feet.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

“If it’s worth the going,  it’s worth the ride.” – Tom Waits – A Little Rain

41. What was your favorite moment of the year?

That’s too hard….I’m going to skip it.  I have so many favorite moments.

42. What was your least favorite moment of the year?

Seeing my niece the day before she died and knowing that I would never get to hold her again.

Below is a note from BlueMilk that sums up why there are missing questions.

(Like Jay, I have skipped a bunch of questions that were apparently about drugs and alcohol and parties. Why? Because I took this meme from Jay and she excluded those questions so I don’t know what those questions were, although to be honest “drugs and alcohol and parties” were not a big part of  life this year.)

57. If you could go back in time to any moment of 2009 and change what?

I would’ve stayed home on my very bad day.

58. What are your plans for 2010?

Spend time on my spiritual development – which was neglected this year.

Continue exercising (hula hooping 20 minutes a day)

More one on one time with the Bear.

Escape to the cabin in March with my love.

Set up the office as E’s room.

Set up the office in the dining room.

Purchase clothes that actually fit me.

Write more, love more, hate less,  live fully and in the moment.

Tell fear to take a hike.

May 2010 be bountiful and beautiful for us all.

I Don’t Subscribe to your Societal Norm

Not really.

The title makes it sound like I have some sort of ideological stance, but really it is more of a combination of general laziness coupled with my upbringing.

What I’m talking about is Christmas/Hanukkah/Seasonal cards…..I don’t send them.

I have never sent them.

I am pretty sure I have never signed a card professing my holiday greetings, stuck it in an envelope, addressed it, slapped a stamp on it and put it in the mailbox.

Scrooge! You shout out to your computer screen.

Grinch!

Humbug!

But you’ve got it all wrong.  I do wish everyone a happy holiday season. If you are reading this – even if you aren’t – I hope this time of year is a sparkling, twinkly winter wonderland for you.

I really, really do.

You see,  when I was a little girl my parents did not send Christmas cards.  Generally, they would be handed out (to my classmates, Dad’s co-workers, and family taped to a small gift).  There were no cousins in distant places, my cousins were seen on a weekly basis.  My parents’ friends lived in the same small town we did and it was a small group.  Our people were not scattered about. My mother was not as busy as I am today.  Her cards numbered in the tens, they were filled out as my sisters and I slept, later placed personally in each warm hand.

Therefore, filling out Christmas cards is not a tradition for me.

Also, I’m generally lazy.

Wow, when I wrote that I could feel the eyes of several people rolling. Yes, I work full time at night after spending all day with a toddler and the seven year old, while going to school…and it’s true I do make my own soap/Halloween costumes/small gifts etc.

Basically, I say “No” to whatever I can get away with.

I can’t say “no” to work.

I don’t want to say “no” to things I enjoy doing.

To me holiday cards are extraneous at best.

I enjoy seeing them from people, and I receive them with, “Oh, that’s nice.” or in cases with photos I will both “oooh” and “ahhh” and at times actually “squee!” with delight as I look at the sweet faces of little children I have the pleasure of knowing.

But I don’t send them back. I love you, but it’s just not in my DNA.

You could call me rude…but lazy is more accurate.

 

Smooth Talker

I have now heard every pickup line in the world.  I have come full circle, ladies and gentlemen you may resume complimenting my eyes and requesting I name my astrological assignment.

Saturday night, I was out on the town with my ladies, minding my business and wearing my wedding ring (for the record).  I was helping to work the door for a friend’s band, marking people who paid to gain entrance to the show, so I interacted with everyone that attended.  After the performance had ended, one audience member was leaning on the stand in which I had stashed my coat and when I went to retrieve it he said and I quote:

“They have the cleanest bathrooms here.”

No, I am not kidding. This is how he opened a conversation to an unknown female.  He then asked if I had seen the men’s restroom, to which I replied, “No, only the ladies room.” whilst trying to decipher if he was attempting to investigate whether or not I had been promiscuous in the establishment previously or if I was a transvestite.

He went on to say that most bathrooms in bars are disgusting (which is true of many bars) and I said that the owner was a “classy guy” (which he is), all while I was attempting to escape politely.  He then segued into discussing trying to wash the “X” I had drawn on his hand when he came in, saying he was going to try hand sanitizer….this is where I seized my opportunity and said, “Well, let me know how that works out for ya.” while skittering off toward one of my acquaintances.

He gets points for creativity….but loses more for creepiness, not to mention the killer: he ain’t The Hubs which has taken down many a man in the race for my favor. 

Good luck to you, Bathroom-pick-up-line Man.  May you find a lady who finds that sort of thing endearing. I’m sure there’s one out there.

 

Keepin’ it Real

Funmama Deanna has recently recognized my ability to be real over on her fine blog (click the link, you know you wanna) by presenting me with The Maire Antoinette Award.  Let me just say that I adore the idea behind this. Fabulous.  But the original image left something to be desired:

It’s a lovely painting – but I thought it could use some jazzing up, thus I pulled up ye olde Paintshop and behold:

 

 I think it adds a little, how do you say……. ah, yes: Sass.

Now to pass this on to my recipents (also anyone who was gifted this lovely from any other blogger is welcome to use the revamped image).

In no particular order:

 Miri @ Here We Are Together - because she shows the reality and beauty of daily life with small ones.

Jill @ Keyboard Revolutionary - because she does NOT pull punches. (Which I adore)

Amy @ These are the Days - because she’s totally and completely herself.

Super Ninja Mommy @ Two Under Two - because she is unafraid to present her life as is, the good, the bad and the toddlers.

Crow in his Nest - because he’s a straight shooter.

While I’m linking it up here, I’d like to steer you over to another blog I contribute to:  Did and Did Not.  Basically, it is a listing of things that were and were not done by the submitter, the sum is a exploration of joy, regrets, lost love and simple truth – with a dash of quotes from famous people. Check it out, submit a quote and scrawl your message across the bathroom wall that is the internet.

I Spy With my Pink Eye

Conjunctivitis has come to my home for the holidays.

Amidst the jolly scuffle of erecting the carcass of an evergreen and decorating it with tinsel and  finery (like the twenty year old ornaments I was given from my mother, including my favorite: Rudolph the One-Eyed Reindeer), I glanced down into my little Bear’s face only to see a giant glob of mustard colored mucus adorning his rose-colored left eye. 

I did not point and shriek, “PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINK EYE!” in terror, as was my first reaction.  I am very proud of myself for that. Instead I grabbed a tissue and said calmly, “Oh dear, I think you have pink eye, sweetie.”

My boy stiffened with terror. Pupils widened, fist clenched, he said with a choke, “No!” 

He has only had conjunctivitis once and he was three and a half at the time- and he remembers it vividly.  Especially the eye drops which he told me while hugging my waist “burn badly”. He was so upset that I reasoned that it might be his allergies which have caused some itching red eyes.

This happened on Friday night. 

Saturday morning we were greeted by the goopy eye monster and obliged to make a visit to the local urgent care.  One hour and $50 bucks later, there he was lying blinking in the medicine that is so awful he recalls it after four years.

Since then we walk around trying desperately not to touch our eyes, overusing hand sanitizer and tissues. 

The goop has almost cleared, yet the fear will cling desperately on for days.

My eye is itchy right now! Oh lord!