“Brains! Brains! Annnnnnnd….. they’re gone.”
“Whew! I needed a break. I’m still trying to digest that last batch. Is it just me or are they getting easier to catch?”
“Nah, definitely easier; even doing the stiff-leg shtick . Can’t complain, though!”
“You said it. Far cry from waiting for teenagers to make out in the graveyard, huh… Whoa DUDE!”
“Oh my god! You totally have brains all over your cheek! No, no, don’t touch it!”
“Why not? Fuck man, you scared the crap out of me!”
“That totally looks like Abe Lincoln’s head! I gotta take a picture.”
“No really! Here, take a look.”
“Oh shit…” [both start laughing] “…you’ve got to post that one! That’s crazy!”
“Seriously. Talk about history repeating itself. Poor Abraham just can’t get a break.”
“Maybe you could photoshop in a bullet.” [both laugh harder]
“Wait… was he shot in the head?”
“Ummm… no, but he was shot. It’ll still be hilarious.”
[both fall silent gradually]
“OK... enough of this shit. I guess we should get back to work.”
“Yeah. Hey, where you headed after this?”
“Down to New Orleans. They believe in all that voodoo stuff, you know, so it’s not just seasonal pickin’s… it’s like all year! And the nightlife is just hopping. How about you?”
“I think I’m going to head to the East Coast.”
“I haven’t been in ages; thought I might check it out. And this one guy started begging for his life, you know how it is, and he threw me a bunch of cash and gave me this list.”
“Yeah, he said this bunch” [pulls out list] “would be extra tasty. Just like dessert.”
“These are all politicians and lobbyists!”
“Really?” [starts laughing again] “You follow all that?”
“Eh… it comes in handy. No one follows up on the disappearances much. Hold on… that one? That’s one of ours.”
“Palin. Part of the union and everything.”
“Figures. I'll keep that in mind.”
“Hey, what did the zombie say to the politician?”
“Damnit, don’t eat Mom!”
[groans] “Dude, I think we gotta call it a night soon.”
“Brains! Brains! Annnnnnnd….. they’re gone.”
I got woken up at 4:30 this morning. (Thanks son.)
I am flying solo until Keen comes home from his business trip.
I totally need a facial. (This is unrelated to the above two statements.)
I thought Chance might have chickenpox despite his vaccination against it. (The word "vaccination" always makes me think of pets. Note to self: start saying "immunization".) Instead, after yet another day home from school and a trip to the doctor, he had a chickenpox-looking viral rash. Woot!
I am totally planning on voting early. None of you really need to know that, I'm just excited. The excitement comes from both this election and the efficiency of early voting. Efficacy of process just gets me a little hot. What?
I have been totally revved up over politics this election, yet I kind of resent that they are distracting me from Halloween. Because I love Halloween! SO... this week will be devoted to HORROR! Bwa ha ha! (Warning: horror may include politics.)
And so I leave you with this...
Can you spot the Chupacabra?
I didn't think so. - wg
(I don’t usually get political on this blog, but we are living in some charged times, and this issue is close to my heart. At first I thought there was no way this prop would pass but I’ve been hearing it’s ahead in the polls. Time to do something. Mad mad mad props to LesbianDad for setting this up.)
When I was growing up my parents had gay friends. It was a never a big deal; my parents never sat down with me and had “the Marriage Talk” or tried to define relationships. It was just a given. Their friends were their friends and whatever relationship any of them were in was matter-of-fact. So and so are married, so and so are boyfriends, etc. One couple in particular were these really great guys who… well, they had an impact. I remember them, and I wasn’t all that old, maybe 7 or 8. They were great guys and very committed. Some couples are just “married”, (and when you’re a kid you just kind of know it) whether on paper or not.
Well, years went on and I, being both a bit naïve and a little clueless of mainstream culture, wandered onto the high school scene not realizing that some people really get emotionally up in arms about homosexuality. I mean, in theory, I knew there were people who had a problem with it, and I had always heard the term “fag” thrown around the schoolyard but it was meaningless; I hadn’t personally come into contact with anyone who really let it personally upset them. (There was one neighbor, but he was such a bigot about everybody he was generally dismissed as a goddamn son of bitch.)
So of course in high school (semi-)adult conversations start taking place and I began running into people who were absolutely appalled by anything (capital G) Gay. At this point, I’m still clueless. I remember clearly having a conversation where I responded to someone’s argument with, “It’s just two people who love each other.” I just didn’t get what the big deal was.
Suddenly, some of those people had a problem with me because I didn’t have a problem with homosexuality. The impression was that there was something wrong with me because I didn’t share the same opinion as the masses. Not only were these kids who would have harassed anyone gay in a split second (not that anyone ever came out in high school back then), but I was also getting flack for my personal viewpoint.
And that’s what Proposition 8 reminds me of.
For those of you who don’t live in California we’ve got this proposition that wants to define marriage as only between a man and a woman. Right now, same-sex couples can marry in the state of California. A law like Prop 8 did pass, sadly, in 2000 and was overturned as being unconstitutional according to the equality stipulations in our state constitution. (Because you know, that’s the job of the state Supreme Court… to look at laws and make sure they are lawful according to our constitution.) This new proposition wants to change the California Constitution.
And I’m not OK with that.
I’m not OK with lobbyists trying to change our constitution willy nilly. I’m not OK with one group of people trying to dictate their viewpoint on everyone else. It reminds me of the schoolyard and the bully tactics that are used. As if I’m going to change my mind because you keep shouting at me. I definitely don’t want anyone trying to legally bind me to their viewpoint either. (For the record, if a gay activist group (or any group for that matter) tried to impose blanket definitions in our constitution about groups of individuals and their behaviors… I’d have a problem with that, too.)
But it’s not me I’m so worried about, because I know I’m not going to change my mind. I obviously support gay marriage. However, this is a complicated issue – it’s not just about whether you’re comfortable with homosexuality, you have to consider the rights that are protected under legal marriage; such as being granted access to your spouse if he/she ends up in the hospital. I’m worried about those folks who wander into the symbolic high school who have never really thought about the issue. By changing our constitution you’re basically saying one group is better than the other. And for you, Joe, who hasn’t really thought about it… hey, it’s in the Constitution!
That’s a great endorsement, isn’t it? Why really think about it at all? It could even excuse all sorts of things.
Such as what other changes this would open the way for…?
Sixty-one percent of Californians agree that the mother is the best possible care-giver. Not dads, not aunts, not grandparents, or foster parents… just moms. Moms are THE best. Everyone always turns to the mothers anyway. We’re just making it official, because we don’t want our schools to accidentally misinform children that other caregivers might be of the same quality.
Also, according to history Californians have blonde, brown, or black hair and we just want that on permanent record. We won’t be taking away the rights of any redheads but just so you know, according to our new constitution, you’re not really as good as the real Californians.
And if you’re not as good as the rest of us who cares if other benefits, over time, start to slide a little?
(If you think Prop 8 isn’t step one in a larger plan then I’m not the only one who is/was naïve.)
Right now, I’m pretty happy that we have a constitution that protects equality for everyone. Vote No on Prop 8.
If you want to help, write a post about what marriage equality means to you, and/or grab the very cool fundraising thermometer for your sidebar (email for the code), and then tell LesbianDad about it.
- the weirdgirl
P.S. I want to hear YOUR story about that fifth-grade rite of passage… Marriage Ed! You know, where you had to have a signed permission slip, and they filed the boys into one room and the girls into another, and you had to watch that embarrassing movie?! That's one of Prop 8's big arguments, you know; no teaching it in schools.
Wait, you say you never had Marriage Ed?
Oh that’s right, they don’t teach a course like that in California. Must be too busy teaching math and English.
Earlier this week Chance was sick so I kept him home Wednesday from beloved preschool. He wasn’t really sick sick, just one of those runny nosed, slightly hot, cranky/lethargic type of things. (And I knew how he felt because I’d felt pretty crappy the night before but felt fine by morning.) However, since figuring out his sensory issues I’ve learned that sometimes those little things can be the final straw - one too many things to process. He has a hard enough time at school (or anyplace with a lot going on) without feeling yucky on top of it.
(I caught him totally milking the “sick” thing today, though. After getting in trouble, no less. And my straw wears size eight shoes.)
His school is actually going well. He had some rough spots the first few days, but now he seems to be settling in. I’ve been copiously rewarding bribing him with goodies of the candy variety. (And before you all condemn me for pushing the Great Evil Sugar on my child, well… let’s just say… being the child of hippies who didn’t allow us kids to have sugar (or grapes or food coloring) because of both “hyperactivity” issues and purist food notions and/or supporting strikes, AND then watching all of us same kids grow up addicted to sugar to varying degrees (because what do you do when you’re a teenager with hippie parents? You either eat a lot of junk food or you join the ROTC)… let’s just say I have a different perspective than most. Moderation is key.
Besides, he didn’t have any sugar today and he was bouncing off the walls! So there you go. (Some days are still rougher than others.))
Anyway, one of the other things that has happened with his SPD issues is I’ve started bonding with the other parents at OT. You know, where we all sit in the waiting room pretending to read Parents Magazine but really dying to talk to one another? Luckily a bunch of us are chatty. We’ve started passing around names and contact info and we’re talking about putting a playgroup together. Yay! It just happens that everyone who is going in that morning time slot has a kid 3-4 years of age. It also seems that we’ve all – go figure – been going through the same experiences with other playgroups/parents/preschools; i.e. stares, comments about our parenting, freak outs by other adults, blah blah blah. You get to where you start avoiding a lot. It’s not only isolating for us parents, but I think we all worry (endlessly) about isolating our kids. We want our children to have fun, to not feel restricted all the time, to not only socialize but to make true friends. And there is nothing better than finding other children who are “rough players” with cool parents who know the score.
After talking with some of the other parents it also sounds like I may have made the most progress on Internet research into possible playgroups in the area. I had, of course, been looking at our local Parents support group, but I also found a Meetup listing for an SPD/Asperger’s playgroup (I had to dig deep to find that one). Those two were all I found, and I need to follow up with emails on both but I feel energized by the idea of organizing and passing the info along. Maybe start a new Meetup group or web page. There are a lot of “resources” on the web to learn about SPD, but not much in the way of just finding people to talk to. I feel like if I can help the next group of parents dealing with SPD to find playgroups in the area… that would be a cool thing.
Makes weathering the rough days just a little easier.
- the weirdgirl
Our life without school
Watch kid TV and have leisurely breakfast
Do activity sheets (i.e. coloring pages with letters on them); read stories
Have lunch at home (home-baked bread, fresh vegetables from garden)
After lunch do an outing to Target, a park, or maybe the pet store, all of which are close by
“Quiet time” (i.e. the two hours Chance is required to play quietly in his room; Me – nap or work)
Clean up after quiet time
Art project or play outside, garden or go for a walk
Dinner time, then bath
More stories and bedtime
Our life with school
Watch 1-2 kids’ shows, scarf down breakfast and run out the door
Drive Chance to school
Stop at Starbucks because I didn’t get enough caffeine and/or breakfast
Stop at bank
Run errands to stores that are lacking in “child entertainment value” (i.e. anything that isn’t Target, Toys R Us, or a pet store)
Stop briefly at home (because that seemed like a good idea)
Drive back to school to pick up Chance
Stop for drive-through lunch
Eat crappy fast food lunch at home; realize I need to stop by the bank again (feel guilty AND broke)
Enforce shortened “quiet time”
Sit exhausted on couch (me)
Prep for next outing (because of course all the playgroup/kid oriented activities start up again now that summer is over!)
Pull Chance out of quiet time, cram snack in him
Drive to playdate/group activity/seasonal outing/grandma’s house
Drive home (in traffic)
Dinner time (hope that Keen has cooked; if not, run out to pick up food)
Skip bath (Eau d’ Exhaust is so lovely!)
Stories and bedtime
Over the summer I had maybe two to three guaranteed outings in a week. Last week I had seven! I gassed up my car last Wednesday midday… by Friday I was already down a quarter of a tank! My carbon footprint has not just expanded, I think it’s grown a corn or two.
– the weirdgirl
About to embark on seasonal coat shopping...
ME: So Chance, what color jacket do you want? Do you still want black?
CHANCE: No, I want a dick jacket.
ME: What was that?
CHANCE: Dick. I want a dick jacket.
ME: Um... You want a dark jacket?
CHANCE: NO... dick!
Blink. Blink blink blink.
ME: OH! You mean you want a thick jacket!
CHANCE: YES!! I want a DICK jacket!
So the turkey baster was a bust. (Sad face here.) I waited a little while just in case I was having one of those magical cycles I've heard about where, contrary to the diaper between your legs, you're actually STILL pregnant! I even read in Ann Landers the other day some chick who had her period every month and didn't even know she was pregnant until she was seven months along. AND she was an OB nurse, or some crap like that. But no, my monthly visitor was a gusher... thus proving that all those stories of periods-while-pregnant are utter poop-stinking myths. At least for me.
I can't say I'm OK with all this... but I'm okay. (I did watch a lot of TV for a couple of days and hide in general but I'm good now.) I do have a wonderful son, and I'm pretty darn pleased with him even when he's yanking my chain. I think we may consider doing the turkey baster one more time and that's about it. No big journeys down the infertility treatment highway. Technically, there isn't much wrong; we're just getting older, you know, and sometimes it just doesn't happen. Of course, we'll keep having frantically unprotected sex. At least for a few more months.
But I am so done with peeing on sticks. I'm sorry, ovulation testers. It's not you, it's me.
I ran into caffeine over the weekend and we're getting back together. We may even look up booze and unpasteurized cheese for some partying. (I'm all kinky like that.)
- the weirdgirl