As a single mom, there are many big questions I get asked that I have to answer on my own. I tried to co-parent those answers with their father, but well that’s a whole other story. Some I have successfully dodged, some I have not.

Today Eldest turned nine. Nine going on ninety, which is what you get when you have girls who are old souls with huge, active minds. One of the most amazing things to me as I have watched them grow is, even when they were in my belly, I could feel their personalities. So different, yet so similar. Proud, strong, loving, inquisitive.

And little forces to be reckoned with.

They tackled me last summer and made me tell them about sex. Eldest, my Spock of sorts, always pulls out the logic that I can’t refute. Even at 7 (almost 8). She said “Mom, you’ve avoided it long enough and kids are starting to talk. Would you rather we learn from you, or from them? Some of them aren’t so smart.”

Today they asked me what religion we are. So I thought about it and I talked it out with them.


Neither one of the girls are baptized, which is something that bothers my parents. I was raised Catholic, but the Catholics and I definitely do not see eye-to-eye. I refused to pick a random church to have them baptized in to appease other people. There are cultures and faiths that wait until the children are old enough to choose to be baptized. Also, I don’t believe that there is a God that that would fault children for the choices of their parents.

But, that doesn’t mean they lack in beliefs or spirituality. They’ve been to church. They know who Jesus is. And Ganesh. We have a giant Buddha they call “Our buddy Buddha.” And they love to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah. And to make a Thanksgiving Tree every year filled with the names of people we are thankful for.

All of this has one thing in common: Love. Love is the recurring theme in our lives. The cornerstone by which all the decisions I make are made. When they were one and two, I created a family motto and rules that all go back to that motto.

Our motto? “We’re All About the Love.”

It is our foundation.

We believe in love. In the power of it. We believe in not saying goodbye when we leave, but “giving love.” We hug people we just met. We hold doors open for strangers and give them random compliments. We donate to and help those in need. We believe in showing love to those we barely know and especially those that don’t seem like they deserve it. We believe that love is the most important thing in this world. We believe that everyone has the right to be loved and to love whomever they want. That every human being is worthy of love. That love has the power to save lives and change the world.

Our religion is love. <3

It’s been awhile since I’ve blogged. While I continue to write in my journal regularly, I’ve not been good about getting it online as of late. I’ve had A LOT going through my head over the last few weeks and I need to just purge it out there so I can move on. We all need a good purging and moving on it seems.

I am a geek. I am also a nerd. A dork. A mom. A cancer patient. I am silly. I am smart. I am creative. I have blue eyes. I love wearing lipstick and painting my nails but I have no clue what blush is for. I’m pale, like albino gone wrong pale. I love to read. I love to knit. I love to create. I love cosplay. I love my geek community. All of these things, among hundreds of others, are parts of who I am. What makes me, me.

And I am sad. I am tired. I am frustrated. I am sick to death of all of the hatred out there. It has gotten to the point that I’m starting to see people I respected and admired in a whole different light. A light that I don’t like.

I am also a hypocrite.

I am a hypocrite because I am sick of seeing flaming hate blogposts and giant soapbox blogposts and calls of lynching blogposts. And yet I write a blogpost about it. But mine won’t contain hatred. And I am not on a soapbox. No pointing fingers. No sense of righteousness. Just a plea.

A plea for it all to stop.

One of the best feelings is when you say “well, (insert book/movie/super hero/you name it here) is my favorite.” And another person squees “MINE TOO!” It’s that little spark that creates a bond. When geek finds geek. That’s the stuff that BFFs are made of. I see it with my girls all of the time. Lilest’s first day of Kindergarten she wanted a PB & Banana sandwich cut out like a Millennium Falcon for lunch. When I asked her if she was sure, she replied “that is how I will know who is going to be my friend. If they know what it is, we’re BFFs.”

Since that moment, they’ve both encountered guys and girls that have called them weird for loving Star Wars. There were some rough moments, but they didn’t let it change them. They’ve gotten flack for declaring Twilight silly and offering forth Buffy as “a much better interpretation of a human and vampire love story.” But, they still stand by it. They are only 7 and 8 though and it’s going to get rougher and rougher out there for them.

Especially if they see the adults in the geek community fighting and divided. We are better than this. I’ve seen it. I have seen the incredible things we can accomplish when we work together. When we cheer each other on and support each other. When we don’t shun each other and throw steaming balls of hatred over a disagreement.

We are all human and won’t see eye to eye all the time. That’s normal. But, it’s how we handle the fact that we disagree that matters. If someone doesn’t believe you are a “real geek,” oh well. Their opinion doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t make you any less you. There is no litmus test. There is no one person that has the right to declare that. When you start screaming back and throwing out names and “cred,” you end up sounding just as douchey.

Yes, geek girls do exist. Arguing otherwise at this point is completely and utterly ridiculous. Yes, some of them are gorgeous. Yes, some of them love to wear make up and get dressed up all of the time. Guess what? Some of us aren’t. Some of us are merely average, normal gals that sometimes get all dressed up and sometimes love to rock our geek t’s and jeans. And we’re not any less geeky for that either. Nor are we less awesome. Nor do we love our gorgeous geek sisters any less.

There IS NO STANDARD. Just like there is no one way to geek, there is no one way to look like a geek. And gals, this goes for guys too. Our fellow geek guys are amazing and a ton of them support the Hell out of us. Are we sticking up for them? Not all of them are booty photo snapping, geek girl hating misogynists.

I’ve thought a lot about it, and the ramifications of saying this (and well everything this post contains) and I decided to just get it all out. Backlash be damned. I don’t even expect many to read this.

But, I think it really needs to be said- WE HAVE BECOME OUR OWN WORST BULLIES.

I have seen it over and over. Someone says/blogs/tweets/comments something that someone is hurt/upset by. Instead of handling it like an adult and saying “hey, that hurts” or “hey, that’s not right” and countering it, a whole new blog post is written, followed by “hey look at this person said this to me” is tweeted. Then swarm of people rush to defense and go after the culprit. I am ALL FOR supporting and backing up our friends and our community. The moment we hate mob up after someone though, we are doing it wrong. We are NO BETTER. Yes, disagree. Clearly make your case. But I am seeing one incident after one incident turn into giant snowball of hatred. I’ve seen post after post pop up to cash in on the momentum of the snowball. Who is really winning? NO ONE IS.

I would like to see us all go back to the way things were. To spend FAR LESS ENERGY ON THE NEGATIVE and START APPLYING ALL THAT ENERGY ON THE POSITIVE.

Instead of writing a retort about “poser cosplayers,” let’s write posts on all the positive things cosplayers have done. I know some AMAZING men and women that volunteer their time and cosplay talents to do so much good. Instead of writing a retort about “poser geek girls” let’s write posts about all the awesome geek girls and guys out there and they projects they are working on.

Forget trolls, don’t feed the negative. If you absolutely have to, give it a giant fucking bowl of positive.

Pretty please, let’s let go of all this negativity and get back to the love. I'll totally share my Millennium Falcon PB & Banana Sandwich with you. Well, unless you have a peanut allergy. That would be bad. <3

Just like our bodies are made up of thousands and thousands of cells, who we are is composed of thousands and thousands of moments. Some big, some small, some we barely even notice. And they all have the ability to change and fluctuate with size as others occur. A small moment that seems insignificant can turn into the most monumental one as life unfolds.

When we are young, everything seems so large. Our whole lives ahead of us, we don’t know enough to try to commit things to memory. Yet, the world has a way of ingraining those into the fiber of our being. Knitting them there for us to look back on later, or remember as we grow.

They help shape who we are.

I grew up in a small town that I never liked very much. My favorite part of it lay just outside my bedroom window. It was the house next door. And the people that lived in it. They were an older couple, former missionaries. They were amazing. I had started being sent over for play dates with their granddaughter in the summer time. Her and I had a blast. The house and its contents were an adventure itself. Add to it the huge garden outside that seemed like it was as big as a football stadium and the large garden shed that we turned into a house or a spaceship depending on our whims that day. I had met people and a place where I felt like I truly belonged.

After that first summer ended, I still ventured over whenever I could to spend time with the woman. She taught me how to make soap, bake bread from scratch, grow almost anything and the whole time she would tell me tale after tale of all their trips to far off lands. While I knew they were there as missionaries, the tales were not of Jesus or religion. They were about love and how no matter what the differences were in cultures, no matter what part of the world they were in, love was the one language that everyone understood.

The hours and hours I spent with her fed my creativity and nurtured my soul in such a way that it felt very much like home to be there.

So much so that I named my eldest after her.

This past week, our world became a bit dimmer. After 96 years of being simply amazing, Mrs. S has moved on to her next adventure. I don’t pretend to know what is in store for us after we leave here, but in my optimistic utopian afterlife, she went home to her husband Art. And their garden is even bigger.

She will be missed very, very, much.



She was Maude (minus dating considerably younger men) before Maude was.

I was approached by a journalist from the Milwaukee Journal Tuesday regarding my submission to Common Pitch Milwaukee. This is the article she wrote wherein my quote is completely out of context and much of what I said was left out.

This post exists to set the context right.

As some of you may know, I was very excited to read about Common Pitch Milwaukee. As soon as I read on their site: “We’re on the hunt for eight promising startups working hard to redefine business in America. The best candidates will represent products or services that improve on (or completely reinvent) an existing American industry, helping to make it more sustainable, more profitable, more community oriented, more ethical – and maybe even more fun.” I knew I had to do it.

The cafe fits all of that. While the thought of getting on a stage scared the crap out of me, it’s for the dream. So, I went for it. Initially the due date was listed as the 18th. Then, all of a sudden, it got switched to the 13th. The application consisted of two small questions- 1. regarding what social impact our concept has 2. what environmental impact and then a mandatory video. I had clips of people talking about what the cafe would mean to them now or what it would have meant to them growing up. They were going to be at the end of me describing what the cafe was. With the switch in date, I had to just link the videos in separately in the “anything else you want us to know?” section and go with a video of me explaining the cafe. Here is the script I memorized for it:

“Hi, I’m Natali. Some people know me as UberDork Girlie and this is my pitch about UberDork Cafe. There will not be pie charts or a soundtrack or fancy graphics. Just a story. You see, once upon a time there was a single mom that struggled finding a place where her and her daughters could hang out. Looking for things to do during a Wisconsin winter turned depressing. Having crayons and chicken fingers doesn’t automatically make a place kid-friendly. Very few places offered classes and activities for kids and their parents to bond and those that did were outrageously expensive. So, she started thinking. What started out as creating a place for her and her daughters to hang out at ended up being the idea of a home for an entire community.

UberDork Cafe is a cafe, a gaming center and a classroom all in one. The cafe will serve a slight twist on simple food that is made with local ingredients and stuff from the 900 sq foot urban garden space we rent. Kids will be able to build their own yogurt parfaits, whacky sandwich combinations and have their own area to sit, eat and play. And adults will get a toy with their meals and be able to get some work done while they keep an eye on their kids. Board games, old school atari, 360s and pcs will be there to play. Family gaming nights will occur weekly. The classroom will offer a ton of classes from art to science for kids and families and even just adults. Teens can learn how to make their own Comics. Families can take “Dinner and Movie” where they learn how to make their own movies and on the last night everyone makes homemade pizza and watches them. Unschoolers will have a place to meet and group teach while their kids receive social interaction. Parents will have a place to drop their teens off at where they know they will be safe but still be able to be teens. Local artists will have walls to hang their art. Community members will have opportunities to mentor, tutor, play, create, learn.

And every year scholarships will be given to inner city youth that have been a part of the cafe and are going on to pursue secondary education in a tech or science-related field.

People old and young who have never had a place to call home before, will finally have that place. And every community deserves a home.”

From the application, the video pitch was made out to be the main part.

Guess not. In fact, they would admit after they posted who made it through, that they never even bothered to watch the video pitches. That they had no intentions of doing so until after they had the “short list”, meaning the 8 picked.

THAT is where I became “very confused and disillusioned.”

Why would you ask for them and then not watch them? How are you going to pick from the answers of those simple questions?

I wanted to figure out what I had done wrong. What I could do differently next time. So, I went to look at the chosen 8.

First on the list- brighter12 An “online companion for working a 12 step process.” I have seen and heard of other resources for 12 steppers. I checked out the entire site to get a feel for what would make them different. Then I clicked on “our team” and there, plain as can be, under “Our Business Partners” - Spreenkler, Innovation in Milwaukee and Manifesto.

Who is presenting Common Pitch Milwaukee? Spreenkler and Innovation in Milwaukee.


Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t have thought “WTF?!?” too?

Absolutely nothing against the Rahms, at all. I applaud what they are doing. I am all for making a difficult journey easier. It did, however, answer my questions of “How is this different? Innovative? Revolutionary?”

The fact that they would pick their business honestly broke my heart a bit. These are groups that claim to exist to bring in, nurture and support people who want to open businesses that change Milwaukee for the better. Groups I was looking forward to working with in the future. Groups that involve people I had respected. Groups that didn’t even bother to watch the videos people made for their pitch. Groups that just picked their own.

That’s how it feels and it is certainly how it looks. No matter who picked the 8, (which I still have no clue, the rejection letter was from Art Milwaukee? They aren’t even on the Common Pitch Milwaukee site?) the moment that a business partner came up, something should have been said.

Then there is the fact that only 3 out of the 8 are from Milwaukee. I understand both sides of this coin. One is “Why have it here if it’s national?” One is “It gives Milwaukee more exposure.” I’m down the middle. Hell, one company is from Chile?? That certainly doesn’t fit in with “eight promising startups working hard to redefine business in America” and it’s concept is far from unique as well. But, I’m sure there is some sort of reason that it would be picked over all the entries they got. Right? Bottom line- there was a better way to achieve both.

I LOVE Milwaukee. I am all for anything that helps bring in new talent, that showcases the best we have to offer. I am far from some “MilTownHater.” (Seriously is that even a real phrase?) And I certainly did not set out to rock any sort of boat or piss anyone off.

You know what though? I know I’m not alone in this. I know there are many others that are mad as HELL about this and all that lies underneath. And let me tell you, this is all just the tip of the iceberg. There is some disturbingly dark stuff underneath all of this that just keeps going and going. Things I never wanted to know and would rather that I didn’t. But, somethings you can’t un-see or un-know. And all those people out there that are upset about this, that are feeling confused and disillusioned, they had great ideas too. Ideas that would help make Milwaukee even more awesome. But, where are they to turn now? It’s not just about not having the opportunity to pitch at this event. It’s about the whole week and the organizations involved and the feeling that this one event manages to put out there.

At the very least, you can say that this was handled REALLY poorly.

And if that pisses people off, than so be it. Ms. Gallagher already put my name out there connected to this mess, I’m gonna own up to my thoughts on it. Thoughts that may not be popular. Thoughts that have already upset people that matter far more than I do in this city.

But, just like this city that I love, they are mine.

I wish nothing but the best for all of those pitching tonight. And to the organizations that are attached to this mess. Hopefully they will find their way back to their mission statements someday. The first cup of coffee for them at the cafe is on me.



Update: "'Our event is designed to bring attention to entrepreneurs, to celebrate entrepreneurialism and to involve the community in bringing support to people that desperately need it,' said Carmel Hagen, Common's chief marketing officer."

And who won?

A start up that was chosen initially based on their Kickstarter. At the time they were chosen, it was at $230,000. Their goal was only $30,000. So they were chosen when they were already $200K OVER their goal. They ended at $291,493.

But, they desperately need it. :)

It’s an awesome concept and I’m all for creating more manufacturing here in the US. When someone has already raised roughly $261,000 OVER their goal, why not give that slot and that $10,000 to someone who does actually desperately need it?

What did the people that didn't win get? A GIANT SCREW PAINTED WHITE. Seriously. The people behind this event thought it was so funny too.

I'll save you the "well see, a big stink was made over brighter12 being a business partner for no reason, because they didn't win." Regardless of whether or not they won, it was still unethical they were on that stage to begin with.

Whether anyone wants to come forward and say it or not, this one event has done A LOT of harm to the very community this week was to be about. No matter what the groups involved and their friends will say.

Dear Politicians,

If you would please sit down, shut the Hell up, and listen for one tiny moment, I would appreciate it. I understand you want to hold firm on declaring war on the right for EVERYONE to marry. I understand you are further wadded up over my vajayjay and what I do or do not do with it. Let’s just be honest for a moment… gay marriage has never killed anyone nor has my vajayjay.

What we need to focus on is a much more dangerous killer… stupid people

They are everywhere.

Instead of telling me what I can and can’t put in my hoo hoo and how I can or can’t protect it , instead of telling me and those I love who we all can and can’t marry, let’s start truly saving the world.

You can begin with making a decent IQ required along with passing the drivers test. Stupid drivers kill people EVERY day.

You know who else does? Entitled people. People that feel where they are going is far more important than anyone else.

Combine the two together and it’s lethal.

For example, the 70 year old lady that almost hit me today whipping through a stop sign so she could pull into the last open handicapped spot in the parking lot. I literally had to jump out of the way, yet she had the nerve to get out of her car and scream “next time you get in my way, I’ll hit you!”

These people are in charge of a giant moving weapon. And that is just fine in your eyes.

Yet vajayjays and gay marriage are somehow worth wasting hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of political bullshit on?

I’m gonna set the little old crabby granny who could be in the Death Proof sequel loose in your neighbor hood with her safe vajajay and her straight husband and see if you don’t maybe come to see eye-to-eye with me.

Look out for the stop signs.

Sincerely,
Me

We’ve all heard it- power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. It can turn Snow White into the Wicked Witch.

And last week I saw it in all its glory. People I once admired and respected twisted to the point of being unrecognizable. As humans, we are flawed by design. We want things we know we can’t or shouldn’t have. When we cross that line or it’s handed to us gift-wrapped, that euphoria is addictive.

We feel unstoppable.

We get ballsy.

We get stupid.

We leave neon trails begging people to question us.

Who would dare, right?

Yet, there is always someone.

Just like there is always someone above you. Your power exists merely as long as they allow it to. And you never know what that person has over others. Or others have over that person.

It’s all just a fragile house of cards on a plantation you sadly proclaim exists in the name of social change.

That’s the worst. When people who claim to be out there for the greater good, to help others. Yet, their only goal is truly to help their own small circle.

One day they will pat the wrong person on the head and send them on their merry way. Counting on them taking no for an answer and feeling rejected.

But not that one. They will come back ten fold, far surpass anything you’d ever imagined and do so with the grace you so clearly lack.

In the meantime, I wish you well. Yes, well. Because, our differences start every morning and end every night with the same thing- I am able to look myself in the mirror and still see me.

I can’t even imagine who you see anymore.

(This post was originally written as a guest post for my friend, Doug's, blog. It was an honor to be asked to guest post and I encourage you to check out his blog here.)

Last year at this time I started a tradition. One that has made a HUGE difference in my life. It wasn’t easy, but it was very necessary. That tradition was spring cleaning my life.

We throw open the windows of our home, brush away the cobwebs and pack up the winter clothes. It’s our symbolic gesture of greeting the new season. The season of growth and change. Warmer weather, flowers, sunshine. We restart the diets that we started on New Years and failed already. All that good stuff.

But, what about the rest of our life? Cleaning our house, though most of us secretly hate it, is a rather easy thing to do. Going through clothes, revamping diets- those are mere habits at this point in our lives. Last year I decided to go just a bit further with cleaning. It wasn’t so much as a conscious decision really, life just pointed out my need to take a look at the people in my life. Who I was surrounding myself with, how they made me feel. Who they really were. Who I really was. What impact they had on my life.

Most of my life I have fought for the underdog and put everyone else’s needs before mine. It’s how I almost completely lost myself in an abusive marriage. It’s how I’ve run myself down repeatedly year after year. I always rationalized it as something I was SUPPOSED to do. That putting myself first was selfish and horrible.

And then I got cancer. It started out precancerous. It seemed like just a scare. A little blip that sucked but I would move past it quickly and be just fine. When it came back cancerous and things got dark, I retreated inside. Talking about it made it far too real. And, above all, I didn’t want my girls to know. They had enough on their plate at the time. Their dad had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. A baby half-sister was NOT sitting well with them. It may seem like nothing, but to a 5 and 6 year old that were never a priority to him, having to fight with another for the bare minimal attention they already received was a rough concept. The last thing they needed was to fear losing me.

So, this inner retreat meant I somewhat disappeared from various social media outlets as well. It just kind of happened. It was all just a blur. I was trying to keep up with everything going on in my life and then balancing dr. appointments and lab work and treatments. I was a mess, but didn’t really realize it. Then I had a couple of friends get upset at my disappearance. I took a deep breath and explained the situation. One of their responses “Well, if you don’t tell anyone, we don’t have any way of knowing. So, you can’t expect me to be sympathetic to you not being around when I needed you.” Yet, I had no idea they needed me because their way of showing they were having a rough time was to disappear off of social media. The same social media that I had backed away from. See the lovely double standard there?

Other things happened as well and I just had to sit down and take a really painful look at things. I suck at cutting friends loose. I give people chance after chance after chance. I try to cling to all their good qualities, sometimes to the point of completely blinding myself to the faults. But, there comes a time where you have to step back and look at that friendship. Is it strictly one-sided? Does it balance out? Is that person a stream of constant negativity? How does their role in your life make you feel?

After answering all of that comes the even harder part- what do you do about it? Do you emotionally put up a wall and hold them at a distance? Do you break it off completely? Do you sit down and explain the situation and work on the friendship together?

That part fucking sucks. There’s no sugar-coating that.

You know what though? When you are done, I promise you that you will feel so much better.

This year, still fighting recurring cancer, but this last round finally came back only precancerous. So YAAAY for that! My immune system is completely shot though and my doctors SCREAMED at me about my stress level. To have a doctor tell you “Fuck the cancer, it’s the stress that’s going to kill you” is a pretty big wake up call. And, it is just in time for spring cleaning time this year.

Time for decisions to be made and people removed from my life. It’s never a happy thing, but it is so freeing. A really wise person reminded me recently that when you clean out the negative, you leave so much room for more positive. And I need all the positive I can get right now. We all do. Getting rid of my first weed has already made a huge difference. People that dwell in and thrive off of constant negativity will suck you dry. Their need to be one up in the misery department all of the damn time will leave them alone and bitter one day and it’s not a place you want to be dragged to. If nothing is ever good enough for them- that is their fault, not yours. Get off the train now.

Another really wise person I turn to when deep cleaning? Bob Marley.

"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." -Bob Marley

There are people in my life that I love to death. That I know would be there for me if I picked up the phone and uttered one word- help. And they know I would do the same. Shit, a couple would hear it in my voice and I wouldn’t even need to say it. And guess what? We don’t talk every day, every week, maybe even every month. Life gets busy for all of us. It’s understood and that love and support is still there. We fit each other in when we can.

Then there are the ones that I talk to every day, every week, every month that I’ve said help to and they’ve not bothered to be there. And anyone in my life knows me saying “help” is one of the hardest things for me to do. I took wanting to grow up and be Wonder Woman VERY seriously. I can do it all myself, you know. Yeah, not really but that’s another post. :)

In the mean time it is time for me to listen to my man Marley, throw on some Three Little Birds, and clean up the rest of my lawn again.

How does your lawn look?

Most of my life I've been the Debbie Downer of April Fool's Day. My inner Spock (when properly coffeenaited) is pretty quick. So, I was hard to get. I guess the harder you are to get (in this case only for me) the harder people try. Over the years people have gone to some pretty great lengths to catch me unawares. Either way, it was a day I was completely "meh" over.

Until 7 years ago and a case of heartburn. The only time in my grown up life I ever got heartburn was when I was prego with Grace. I was home on the 1st, though I can't remember why. Morning started normal. Then I felt it- heartburn. It had only been oh 7 months ish since I had Eldest so I was hoping it was risidual or something. And then I counted. Eh only a day late, surely that wasn't anything.

Then I panicked and called one of my best friends with "I think I might be pregnant." You know that someone knows you inside and out when you call them on April Fool's and say that and their response isn't "ha ha April Fool's" it's "Um, you've been pregnant before hon so if you think you are, you probably are- go get a test!"

So, off I went to Walgreen's and back I came with two tests (we always do two, I have no idea why) and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey. Don't judge. And 10 minutes later I was sitting on the couch FREAKING OUT as I stared at the double-lined stick. I called her back crying "HOW AM I GOING TO HANDLE TWO OF THEM!?!? " I was terrified. I hadn't really gotten fully used to being a mommy yet and Eldest was planned. We wanted two but I so was not expecting them to be so close together. Her response was "you'll figure it out and it'll be fine." And she was right.

Telling Father of the Year was a totally different beast. I sat there wondering when I should tell him. If I told him today he'd think I was kidding. If I told him the next day, he'd scream I waited. Either way I was screwed. So, I made him a card and waited until he got home. Then Eldest and I gave him the card. Then he screamed about it being a shitty April Fool's joke and stayed pissed off the entire night. I showed him the stick, I burst into tears. He just kept calling me an asshole.

Much, much later, we're in bed and he says "It's 12:10, you know it's not April Fool's Day anymore, right?" My response? "You know I'm still knocked up, right?"

And then I fell asleep while he freaked out. :)

So, now I absolutely love April Fool's Day. It reminds me of Lilest and she's 1/2 of my heart. And if you know her, it's hilarious that I found out on this day that she was in my belly. :)

No, I’m not talking about the crazy ass Beyonce that locked down a hospital when she gave birth. That Beyonce can go sit down.

Nope, I’m talking the Run This Mutha version.

I don’t typically warn people about the content of posts. My bio is pretty much my disclaimer. I’m far from a delicate flower and when the #truthbat comes out, all ladylikeness be damned. If you have gentle eyes or are fragile in any way, this may not be a good post for you. You know what, scratch that. It’s ESPECIALLY important that you read it then. Preferably with an open mind and an open heart. Attempt to let the words settle in for a bit. Stew them around. Give them a ponder. It’s good for you. I promise.

So...

Lately I’ve been waking up, seeing the news and reading things that make me question what country, what decade we live in. It’s like we’re downward spiraling backward into the dark ages. Overdramatic? No, not at all. Not when we have states deciding it’s okay for their doctors to flat out lie to their patients if they suspect what they have to say may result in the patient getting an abortion. Even if carrying to term puts the mother’s life at serious risk.

HOW THE FUCK DID THAT GET PASSED?

Or in Texas where they are forcing women who dare want an abortion to HAVE to go through a VAGINAL ultrasound. That thing is like 10” and no joke. I had to have one when pregnant with both my daughters and it sucked.

THE LAST TIME I CHECKED- FORCING AN OBJECT INTO A WOMAN’S VAGINA= RAPE. WHO THE FUCK VOTED FOR THAT!?!?

And people, in my own state for that matter, wanting to label all us single parents as potential child abusers. When I read that and listened to him speak, I lost my mind for a little bit, did some cussing and then thought “eh, that’ll never happen.”

I’m really not so sure about that anymore.

In fact, shame on me for being so passive about it. This is a matter that directly affects me. In my own state. Yet, I blew it off. I can sit here and give good reasoning- my life is stressful enough as it is and I have to actually put my health first right now. You know what though? Fuck that. Seriously. What good is my health if I end up living in a country that allows a doctor to lie to me and a label of potential child abuser to be slapped on me? How do I teach my daughters to stand up for what they believe in and use their voices if I don’t lead by example. Every law, every bill, every policy that is put into place now will affect their lives. If not today, than one day in the future. It is up to me to fight tooth and nail to make sure that I am doing everything I can to make sure they are all in their best interests.

We should ALL be fighting for what is in our best interests. Not just sitting back and allowing politicians to continue use us as pawns in their pissing contests.

Before you even try to start arguing “abortion is murder” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about. More importantly, according to the constitution (which trumps The Bible right now in this country), it is not. End of discussion.

Before you even try to start arguing “it’s the Republicans’ fault” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about either. More importantly, Democrats clearly didn’t stop it from happening. End of discussion.

Before you even try to start arguing “it’s all men’s fault” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about either. More importantly, there are women that voted for this bullshit too.

In fact, women, we need to stop pointing fingers at everyone else and start pointing them at our own selves. I know, it hurts. It’s harsh, but it’s the truth.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again- if we ever put the ginsus away, stop stabbing at each other, stop blaming men for all our issues and ban together for the greater good, we would rule this nation. And things would be so much better.

Where did we go wrong? More importantly, how do we get it together and push forward?

Let’s start with loving ourselves. As is. We all have parts we want to work on, be they internal or external and I believe life should be about learning and growing. But, love the roots first.

Then let’s start loving each other. I saw the same people that bitched about Angelina needing to eat a sandwich turn around and call J Lo fat. Seriously? Neither one should be accepted. So much judgement being passed.

Let’s ban together and let our voices be heard. Allowing politicians to decide what is best for our bodies, best for our lives, without any input from us is wrong. Allowing our rights to be taken away without a fight from us is wrong.

In this fight, it doesn’t matter what you look like, where you are from, how smart you are, how rich you are how (fill in any adjective you see fit here) you are. If you are a woman- this battle pertains to you. Hell, if you love a woman, it should pertain to you too. The next woman you see, she isn’t a stranger, she isn’t the enemy… she is your sister in this fight too. Instead of silently judging her or judging yourself against her, smile.

Start opening up discussions with friends, family, coworkers, PTA, neighbors. Start talking openly about what is happening in our country. And instead of the politicians that are too busy pointing fingers, laying blame and measuring dick size, let’s actually start coming up with solutions.

“We the people” means ALL of us. Not just politicians, not just people in power. But wait- WE are the ones with the power.

WE VOTE THEM IN.

This is the United States of America, the “free world” and it is 2012 damn it. We are women, let them hear us mother fuckin ROAR.

It is time for us to REALLY Run This Mutha.

Love or hate Beyonce, her ass was right with this song. Sing it sugar.

You would be (or rather should be) Hellbent on finding a mother that wouldn’t love to protect her children from every horrible or hurtful experience out there. I am certainly no exception. In fact, as much as I joke about my mama bearness, I know that I have the ability to go off the deep end of neurotic when it comes to my girls. They are my world. If I could roll them in bubble wrap and lock them in one of those medi-bubbles, part of me would. Deep down I know they need to go through things like pain, hurt and sorrow to appreciate joy, love and happiness all the more. But, heaven help the first person that breaks their hearts. And heaven help the friends that have to hold me back from tearing that person’s out.

The girls have fallen in love with Adele and understandably so. I am convinced her and I would be besties if we ever met. Not only is she amazingly talented, but she’s off the charts adorable and charming. And she loves to swear. We’d have such fun together. One of their favorites of hers is “Someone Like You.” In mom mode, I think “okay, no sex and cursing so it’s okay for them to listen to.” I tend to not ever really gauge how deep a song is and whether or not they will “get it.” I suppose it’s just knowing them so well. If they have questions, they ask. So, tonight they asked me to “find a youtube of her singing it.” I was happy to oblige. I figured they’d yell at me to sing along as well (bless them for loving my really horrible singing) and that they would sing along as well. What I hadn’t anticipated was the emotion they did so with. And the discussion after that occurred.

Turns out they get it. They get the song. They learned through it that love doesn’t always work out. That you can love someone with all of your heart, or think that you do, and that may not be enough. Or someone could love you like that and you not feel it. That someday someone may break their heart and love again much quicker than them. That romantic love is a tricky thing.

I suspect they will continue to amaze the Hell out of me on a regular basis. That I will continue to wonder how they came about such wisdom and how I was lucky enough to be blessed with them.

So tonight we leaped our first hurdle. Our first open talk of broken hearts. And we all survived. I know that when it really happens it won’t be as easy, but tonight may help make it just a bit easier than it could be. They know that Disney is just one story. That mommy is still on good terms and, in some cases, very good friends with people she once loved like that. That we all survived and have loved again.

As I tucked them in, they had me skip the usual lullaby and sing “Make You Feel My Love.” And then Lilest asked me again why she couldn’t marry me because she knows I will always love her and never break her heart. After I was done explaining, she then asked me if she could marry Adele. :)

I will never love anyone more than I love those two.

If you’ve met my girls, there is no doubting where they came from. I couldn’t deny them if I tried. If you’ve met the rest of my family, you may wonder about me though. All the people that I take after have passed away. One of the most important ones, my grandma Katie, would have been 95 today.

Not a day goes by where I don’t miss her.

My gram was not like most grandmas. Yes she embroidered and crocheted and made the best soup ever. Her Matzoh Ball soup was my absolute favorite. But, she could also drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney and cuss like a sailor. Well, to be more accurate, she had made sailors blush.

My grandpa died young, but she always wore her wedding rings. In fact, my engagement ring was a replica of hers. If you tried to tease her about needing a man, she’d say she had one. If you said “one that’s still alive” she’d say “What the Hell for? So he can sit on my couch and make me fetch him beer? No thank you. I need another man like I need another goddamn hole in my head.”

When my dad was big and scary, she told him to go to Hell. When he told her not to use the “f word” around him, she told him to fuck off. When the world told her she needed to stop working at 65, she lied her ass off and got a job. When my parents told her there was an e on the end of my name, she told them no. Katie was feisty as Hell.

And, as I predicted for years, when God told her it was time to go, she cussed his ass out all day long before she went.

She was the only grandparent I’d ever known and the only strong female role model that was consistently in my life. In middle school I used to miss the bus on purpose so I could walk to her house and wait for my dad. He would be mad, but I got to hear story after story of her life from raising my mom and aunts and uncles to riding to work on the back of a Harley. Getting screamed at was so worth it.

She was the one that taught me not to take shit from anyone and that I could be and do whatever I wanted as long as I put my mind to it and “you don’t have to use your tits to do it either, you’re a smart one, you use your brain.” This is the same woman that set her mind on teaching her bird to hate Frank Sinatra and by George every time ole blue eyes came on, her bird Louie would BITCH up a storm. If you were to tell me she had a fling with Frank that went bad and that’s why she hated him, I would not be shocked at all. My grandma was a Hell of a woman.

I have a million grandma stories I will eventually find the strength to write, but for now, I’m easing into it. Her death is a wound that’s never really scabbed over. I look at my daughters and know how much she would love the Hell out of them. They’d come home dropping four letter words like crazy and hopped up on Brach’s candy, but I wouldn’t care.

It’s time for me to make my annual Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet (her drink of choice the last couple of decades of her life) and toast her. I will leave you with this…

When I moved out to California, I would call her once a week to check in. She’d ask how I was and I’d tell her the soup sucked. One time I called and she sounded kind of funky so I asked “Grandma, is that you?” True to form, her reply was “No, it’s Mrs. Fitzimmons, who the fuck else would be answering my phone?” From that point on, I would call and ask for Mrs. Fitzimmons and she’d laugh and say “This is Mrs. Fitzimmons, how’s my favorite little smart shit doing?”

I miss you Mrs. Fitzimmons.






That beauty in pink with the glasses is my Katie. The woman to her left is my mom. The woman below looking ready to knock my Uncle Gene the Hell out? Yup, my Katie. That gorgeous red afro belongs to my ever-amazing Aunt Carol. She’s the one from my #BoobieWed post. The two of them together would make the perfect woman.

My doctor called me while I was just done dropping the girls off this morning. I’d already made the decision that I NEED to make time to write down our conversations. Especially the silly ones. This morning’s was fun. As a geek mom, I have the ability to chronicle their lives for them in a way generations before me couldn’t. I can assemble an entire book with photos and captions, a book of them. They can keep this book and pull it out and read it to their children one day. I have made myself a promise that, no matter what, I am going to do this. I have to.

None of us know how long we will be here. I have great plans and decades to spend with my girls in my mind and heart. But, it’s not solely up to me. So, doc informed me that I have the most stubborn white blood cells and cervix she’s ever seen. The fact that I am abnormal is not a shock, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that this was the one time in my life I wish I was called normal. The cells bother her, the cervix we suspected and it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s back. But, it does mean I get a hot date with a LEEP and sadly she said they just can’t LEEP away my entire cervix. One of these days it’ll buy me dinner first damnit.

I’m at a different place this time around, a different mind set. While I’ve always had the “let’s do this! Let’s fight back!” attitude, I was getting weary. Balancing everything was a trick before, now it’s flat-out draining. This past summer when I made the decision to go back to work full time, rather than freelance, I picked a place that was very unlike me. Yet, it fit perfectly. It’s a seasonal company. Meaning, I get laid off over the next few weeks. A lay of with pay enough to get me through it and time to take a step back and revamp. A much needed breather. A chance for a re-birth.

And I plan on taking advantage of every moment of it. I’ve revamped our eating habits and begun training for the Dirty Girl Run. I’ve begun to reorganize our house, though you probably can’t tell looking at it right this moment. The girls and I have settled in to the new schedule so far, but this is just week one of it. Now, it’s back to the things that matter. Refocusing on the dream and making it happen this year- cancer or no cancer.

Another upside of all of this was that it allotted (read: forced) me to take a step back and look at everything and everyone in my life. To boil things down to what is most important. To come to terms with what I may truly mean to some and them to me. To take stock and make an effort to mend some that may have needed mending and deal with whether it was reciprocated or not. You know how you know when someone is a real friend? It could be hours, days, weeks, years since you’ve sat down and really talked, yet a beat is never missed and that love is still there and even if they don’t have time at the moment, you can tell they are happy as Hell to hear from you.

And I’ve learned that if you completely fuck it all up, there is tomorrow.

Every single day we all get a re-do.









P.S. So today’s conversations on the way to school…..

Lilest: “GIVE US MATH PROBLEMS!!”
Eldest: “YEAH MOMMY!!! MATH PROBLEMS!”
Both: (chanting) “MATH PROBLEMS! MATH PROBLEMS!”

They are such nerds! Now, coming up for math problems for a 6 and 7 year old while driving may sound like a piece of cake. My girls don’t deal with “what’s 3 + 7?” Nope, they want WORD problems. Which means that I have to keep track of my own problem while I’m making it up. Possibly on a lack of coffee. While driving through a town that I swear has the worst drivers ever.

Me: “Okay, Hailey first… if there are 3 houses on the right side and 4 houses on the left side, how many houses are on the block?”
Lilest: “Duh, that’s 7. MAKE THEM HARDER!!”
Me: “Okie Dokie. If there are 14 houses on this block and 7 are on the right side, how many are on the left?’
Lilest: “SEVEN!”
Eldest: “SEVEN! HEY! IT WAS MY TURN YOU BIG DOOFUS!”
Me: “NOT OKAY!!!”
Eldest: “You gotta take turns cuz I know more stuff than she does, I get harder ones.”
Me: “Okay, (insert eldest’s name here) there are 12 houses on the next block, all with 2 windows. How many windows are on the block?”
Eldest: “Good one! Let me think!”
Lilest: “That’s a multiplication problem.” 
Eldest: “I KNOW!!”

Eldest got it right. In fact they both got all of theirs right. Lilest’s next one was “If mommy drinks one cup of coffee every hour and I spend 3 hours at Starbucks, how many cups of coffee will I have drank?” And Eldest got the last one with “If we got to AJ Bombers for dinner and they have a big special going where hamburgers cost $1.00 and sweet potato chips are $0.50 how much would it cost all together if we each got one hamburger and one order of sweet potato chips?”

I love that they love to learn. I love that they are a bit competitive in that department. I love that we take the time to actually spend time together in the car on the way to and from, well anywhere together. But, especially to school. We both need that love in the morning.

It may look like just an ordinary table. Sadly, some may think it ugly. Both couldn’t be further from the truth. What lies buried deep within the wood are years and years of memories. Of laughter. Of love.

Once upon a time, this table was the only table in my grandmother’s modest little apartment.

If you’ve read my “Yup, I’ve Got Boobs” (http://lifeinmonkeyland.blogspot.com/2009/10/yup-ive-got-boobs.html) post, you have caught a small glimmer into the awesomeness that was my grandmother. Her and my aunt were the first and only real strong female role models that I had growing up. Whenever I look at my family and wonder how I fit in, I think of them and it begins to make sense. She was also the only grandparent I’ve ever known.

Grandma passed away December 30th, 1999 of Pancreatic Cancer. Fuck you very much again Cancer. I remember someone looking at me and saying “Awww she just missed seeing the new millennium.” She was the feistiest 85 year old you would have ever met and I know exactly what her response would have been “New millennium, same shytting thing.” Someday I plan on writing a series of posts on her. Not only because the stories are great, but because they need to be preserved so I may hand them down to the girls and they can hand them down. To listen to them tell their children how great grandma rode to work on the back of a Harley and made the best Matzoh Ball soup ever is something I hope I live to hear.

Someday. But not today. I don’t have the strength in me today to open that all up. This last year has been one continual fight against the very type of beast that took my grandmother and my aunt. And it has gotten overwhelming. There have been days where I am so tired I just want to curl in a ball and cry. But then I think of them, take a deep breath and think “I’ve got this.” I miss them both so much.

Today I stood in the pouring rain, holding the door open as my parents brought it out of the back of their minivan. As soon as the first chair came out, I caught my breath. By the time the table came out, the lump in my throat was huge. I kept trying to swallow it, hoping the rain would help me wash it down. I haven’t seen it since before she passed.

Now it sits in our home where our memories, our laughter, our love can be added to those already within it. Its mere presence has already brought me comfort. I want to hug it, to sit at it and lay my head upon it… listening for her voice, smelling for Matzoh Ball soup.

To many it may look like a simple table. To me it is a piece of my grandma.

For as long as I can remember, I have always taken mass amounts of crap from someone before I stand up for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll stand up for those I care about in a heartbeat. Yet, I’ve always seemed to subconsciously deem myself unworthy of the same thing.

I’ve long given people chance after chance and had a hard time cutting ties. It’s always seemed like giving up on someone. I don’t like to give up on people.

But, the flipside is not doing so is giving up on me. So, I’ve gotten better at voicing my feelings when they’ve been smacked around a bit. And today I took that one step further.

It’s going to seem ridiculously silly I’m sure, but it was a breakthrough to me. I’ve never actually “unfriended” or “deleted” or “unfollowed” someone I’ve known. I’ve blocked some crazies here and there but never someone I once deemed a friend (or more.)

Until now.

Facebook is different for me than anywhere else online. The monkeys have names. People on there have known me my whole life. Seen me naked. Gave me tissue when I’ve cried. Hell watched me give birth. There’s an intimacy the exists there that doesn’t anywhere else.

I realized that if someone is okay with being a complete and utter douchebag to me, than they do not have the right to that intimacy.

So, one click of the button has solved that. And it feels pretty damn good. :) It also kinda sucks.

So, if you follow me on the twitters or the facebook then you know I took the monkeys a rummagin' yesterday. You may also know that it was the "$10.00 for whatever you can fit in your bag" day and one of the women was not so thrilled when she saw my bag. For I am 1. a single mom and b. have mad Tetris skills.

The haul?

8 skirts
6 pairs of shorts
2 dresses
2 pairs of monkey pjs's
1 monkey sun visor
23 tops (mostly T shirts)

All pretty hipster wearing brand names.

So, that works out to be roughly to be roughly 24 cents a piece. :)

And it's all stuff I can layer the mess outta when it gets warmer. :)

Don't ever let anyone tell you Tetris would not come in handy!!

Allow me to help you wipe it off.

I’m pretty sure you’ve heard, Amy Winehouse died yesterday at the age of 27. Now, I will be the first to admit that it wasn’t a huge shock. What was though was the level of disrespect that I witnessed surrounding it. It broke my heart and made me sick.

I’m the last person to have anything resembling celebrity worship in me. (Okay, I totally squee’d when I met Wil Wheaton, but common, it’s Wil Wheaton.) I went on a HUGE rant when I woke up the morning after the earthquakes in Haiti that affected the lives of nearly 3 million people and Lady GaGa was the top trending item on Twitter. Why? Because she was exhausted. Eat a sammich! I tell you what though, if she had died (so very much not wishing that upon her or anyone else for that matter), I would have understood why that would be everywhere.

No matter what your opinion of her, you can not deny the talent she had. She was brave and groundbreaking. She had an insanely powerful voice that was belted from a fragile, haggard looking young woman. And she had such soul. Lyrics don’t get written like hers unless you’ve been there. Songs sung from the gut like that have a trail of pain behind them. Pain that is relived every time you sing it. Sing them all back to back and it’s no wonder she had issues. Some called her a tortured soul, others a train wreck. I’d always just wanted to give her a hug and hoped she’d figure it all out.

But, she didn’t. At a mere 27 years old, she has left this world. While the reports are still out, we’re all expecting cause of death is alcohol and/or drug related. It doesn’t mean she deserved it though. It doesn’t mean that it’s okay to say horrible things.

SHE WAS A HUMAN BEING.

I saw someone ask when the news first broke if it was wrong that they secretly kind of hoped the rumors were true. ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. Others made snide comments about Amy Winehouse’s death and how now we won’t have to be burdened by watching more about what happened in Norway. (Yes, I know they were being snarky.) Really? Do you seriously believe that Amy woke up Saturday morning and said “Fuck the Norwegians, I’m gonna one up them everywhere”?!!? Joke after joke after sick joke. Bitching upon bitching at having to see Amy Winehouse “shit everywhere.”


Everyone that dies is a loss to someone. Who are we to judge that it’s otherwise?

Here’s a thought- turn off your TV, step away from your computer and take a moment to call some one you love and tell them so. Make sure they know you really mean it. No matter if we lead the life of a saint, or that of an addict, none of us are guaranteed a specific amount of time on this earth. Use it well.

I choose to use mine to see the good and worth in people. To spend time reminding the people in my life they are important to me and genuinely so in their own unique way. To try to do my best to be a good person and a decent mother.

I am by no means a saint either. I am highly flawed and a continual work in progress.

But I can look myself in the mirror.

Random Shiny Object Syndrome.

Now, most people will read that and think I like random shiny objects. Don’t get me wrong, I do. This is different though. In this scenario, I’m the shiny. Or maybe I just attract people with a weird version of ADD.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a pretty social gal. I randomly smile at people all the time and tend to know most of the employees at the places I frequent. It’s just how I am. And people always tend to smile and chat back. That’s how human interaction is supposed to work. It’s a lovely thing.

But, I seem to have this knack for drawing in people that are all excited to get to know me, spend time with me, talk to me. Like I’m a new toy on Christmas morning. And I get all excited right back.

And then…..

*poof*

They move on to the next shiny.

And I’m left sad and pouty.

It’s actually started to affect me. I’m a pretty open book and have a huge squishy heart. Putting it out there was something I continued to do willingly no matter how much things hurt. Now I’m more skittish and guarded. I’ll catch myself doing the excited puppy dance back and stop and take five steps back and a deep breath. I keep bracing for my shiny to wear off and them to *poof.*

Maybe it’s all my fault. Perhaps I haven’t outgrown being that kid at the park that made a bunch of friends playing all day and cried the whole way home when I realized I would probably never see them again.

Either way, it sucks.

We are now home from our annual Easter brunch at my parent’s house. The monkey’s fave Easter basket item? Yoda kites. I popped our dinner in the oven and the girls began to argue which Star Wars movie we are going to watch.

I should prelude this with the fact that they are 5 & 6 now but have been Star Wars fans since they were 2 & 3. I should also mention that as soon as we got home, lilest stripped off the dress so her half of the debate was argued wearing only her underwear.

I love my little geeklings and am frequently in awe of them when they get in uber geek mode. Fighting they do frequently. They flat out throw down like boys. Then two minutes later are smooching on each other and cooing about how they are bestest friends ever. But, every once in a while an actual debate occurs. Tonight is one of those nights.

For some reason, Revenge of the Sith has always been one of eldest’s favorites. Which doesn’t make any sense to me. She LOVES Anakin. Before it sunk in that it wasn’t really possible, she vowed to one day marry him. You’d think that Attack of the Clones would be her favorite then. Why the one where he turns to the dark side and gets his ass handed to him by Obi Wan? Yet it is. It also happens to be my least favorite of all of them. I understand it is necessary, but it’s all so sad. In fact, given that she is inherited my upset at movies that make me sad and habit of turning them off if they make me cry, I would think she would also find this the least favorite. But, whatever the reason, it’s her go to when we talk the new movies vs the classics.

Lilest is a girl after my own heart. She’s all about the classics. Of them, Return of the Jedi is frequently the one that she pushes for. She also HATES Revenge of the Sith.

And so the debate began.

Eldest declares her choice of Revenge of the Sith. Lilest shoots her down. Her argument is simple- it’s too dark, too scary, too sad. Eldest counters with the necessity of it in the total story line and then busts out comparing it to the story of Easter- Anakin dies. He is resurrected as Vader. Lilest throws her a complete curve ball with Return of the Jedi being much more Easter-like because Vader dies and Anakin is resurrected and redeemed. Eldest counters that Anakin flat out dies then, therefore it is not a story of resurrection. Lilest counters with the fact that Revenge of the Sith ends with Vader being created, but ends with that. There is no “character development of him at that point.” Eldest replies “well played, but Anakin still dies in Jedi.” Lilest “Oh really? Because I’m fairly certain that those that are strong with the Force never truly die and he does appear at the closing of the movie along with Obi Wan and Yoda.” Eldest’s retort? “That’s it, there is only one way to solve this- to the light sabers!”

So which one are we watching?

The Princess Bride.

Yup, they decided that fighting wasn’t the answer, it’s Spring Break so we should just pull a full on Star Wars marathon from start to finish instead.

I can hang with that.

I know I’m far from a traditional mom. I do things way differently than most moms do. In fact, other moms at eldest’s school and their old day care love to point that out to me. It just makes me smile. The one thing that I am traditional in, in a way that moms SHOULD be, is the mama bear effect. Yeah, I’m fiercely protective of my monkeys. I try to keep it in check though.

Having said all that, while I’m proud of the mother I am, I try not to judge others on their parenting. We all know that they don’t pop out holding an instruction manual or a flash drive with a pdf of one. The basics of raising children are easy though. It’s not rocket science. You keep them safe and show them all the love you can. When I see those basic truths not being upheld, that’s when I get mad.

So, today I had to run in to Walgreen’s really quickly. Lilest and I pull in. It takes me a bit to answer a couple of texts I got while driving. Maybe 5 minutes after parking, we get out and trek on in. While walking past this giant new Lexus SUV that had been parked and running kitty corner in front of us, I notice two things. 1. It’s unlocked and there's no one in the front. B. There is a roughly 2 year old alone in a car seat in the back. That last one made me take a couple of steps back and actually look into the windows to make sure I was seeing right. Yup. Alone. *eye twitch*

We go in, grab my nail polish, stand in line, wait for the check out lady and the woman ahead of us to stop coffee clutching, pay for it and wander back out.

And the Lexus is still there.

Still running.

Lil guy still in there all alone.

As I get in my car, my mind struggles. Yes, this is the burbs. But, it’s unlocked. Keys in and running. With child. The mere thought of what could happen terrifies me. But, is it rational? I know there is NO WAY IN HELL I would EVER do that. Jinkies, lilest is over twice that child’s age and in she went with me. So I sit and I think. Lilest asks me why we aren’t driving yet and I explain to her what is going through my head. Then, she hits me with logic- “Mommy, you always stand up for what you feel is right. And you always say sometimes we need to be the voice for people who can’t use theirs.” Grrrr. What to do? Going in means the possibility of a very less than pleasant exchange with the driver/mom/dad/babysitter/guardian/what have you. The kind where people get to swinging. Yet I can’t just drive away and be wondering if that little boy is okay. I can sit here and wait for the person to come out and keep an eye on the vehicle. But, what happens when they go to the next place and do the same thing? Will someone watch it then? Will that little boy be okay?

So, I called the non emergency number for our police department and I told them the situation. Left it in their hands. And drove away hoping that the little boy would be okay, knowing they were at least on their way.

Did I do the right thing? I’m still not sure. I kinda hope whoever it is was in there buying some birth control. All I wanted was some nail polish.

I know that I am far from alone when I say that Dr. Seuss shaped my life. Generation after generation will continue to utter that same phrase. At least I hope.

If you have followed my blog since I started it (which you probably haven’t) you will have heard this story before. It bears repeating though. :)

My quest for knowledge has always been there. When I was little, the birthday cut off for Kindergarten was December 1st- the day before mine. By the time I reached 3 1/2 my parents realized I was much different than they had anticipated and they thought I should be in school. Yes folks this was before 3K, 4K and all that other stuff. Back in my day there was only one Kindergarten. And you had to be 5 by the cut off date to attend. Feeling I was more than ready, mom called the school district and was told to bring me in, that they would test me. If I passed, I was in. Like the already lil nerd I was, I was SO excited to go in and test. I remember what I wore that day and I remember them handing me a sheet with a clown on it holding a bunch of balloons. While I don’t recall the tests, I do recall that each one I passed, they put a sticker on to fill in a balloon. All I needed was over half of them full. Proudly, I skipped out of there with all of them colored in. I was going to go to school!

Until the call came. The “If we make an exception for her, then someone comes in with Dec. 3rd & 4th, where do we draw the line?” call. I won’t lie, I totally cried my lil heart out.

Then, I woke up the next morning pissed and determined.

I grabbed all my lil Dr. Seuss books and sat down in front of Sesame Street and taught my geeky self how to read. On a mission, I had mastered all of the books within a couple of weeks and would read them over and over again.

If that alone was the only thing I got from him, that would mean the world. The independence he gave me to teach myself to read empowered me. It taught me that books were the key to knowledge. Not long later it taught me that they are also the key to survival when you need to escape from an unhealthy environment.

And what knowledge did my dear friend Seuss teach me a the ripe old age of 4? He taught me the foundations of who I am:

* Always be yourself:
"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You."

*Being a geek is good:
"The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go."

"There's no limit to how much you'll know, depending how far beyond zebra you go."

*Always stand up for what you believe:
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It's not."

"I know, up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights."

*Life is tough, but have faith:
"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"

"You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life's a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left. “

*Keep an open mind:
"Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!"

"If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good."

"You’ll miss the best things if you keep your eyes shut."

And so very, very much more.

He taught me to be creative. To make up words, characters, entire worlds. To be different. To not only use my imagination but to embrace it. That the world isn’t black and white, nor should it ever be. It should be colorful. It should be filled with amazing creatures all so different but living together peacefully. And if a Grinch pops up, show them some love.

So, happy, happy birthday Dr. Seuss. May your legacy forever live on.


"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."