Mamazen

Yeah it bothered me too but...

Lately there has been a (poorly written with some wretched grammar, but with some good points) article about running circulating. I'm not going to link to it, because I don't believe it needs or deserves any more traffic. It's not because it was poorly written, or because it has bad grammar, but because in the very first paragraph, before I can even bring myself to like the guy, he pulls the R word. Makes a joke about being retarded and acutally says 'to put it politely'.

 

POLITELY? it's Polite to ridicule and offend people who can't defend themselves? It's more POLITE to call your inability/non desire to take care of your body through exercise retarded than to say... um LAZY? 

POLITE?

FUCKING BULLSHIT. You know, you're a relatively intelligent human being with access to MANY words in the human language and this is all you can come up with?  Seriously? I mean I know in your title you admit you're an idiot, but REALLY?

But the article isn't the only reason I'm blogging about this. If this were written by someone I knew they would have probably gotten a email filled with education about the word choices they used, and depending on their response, might not really be my friend anymore. The reason I'm writing about this is because of the number of people I know, and love, and respect who are sharing links to this article.

When you click *like* or you share these things, you condone the language.  When you post this article and then say 'yeah it bothered me to' but still share it... do you not care? Do you not care that now more people are clicking and reading and assuming that it's ok to make retard jokes because the rest of the article is funny? I had one person respond to me that the article was 'borderline offensive'... This isn't borderline offensive, trust me, I've got a kid in special ed, this guy crossed the border a long time ago. It's rude, it's wrong and it's time to grow the fuck up and change our language.

The thing is, I could have written this article myself, down to the huffing and puffing when I started running, to the revelation that running clothes are super rad, to the fact that when you actually start doing it, it's FUN... but I could have done it with out hurting my kid, and many other kids who do ride the special ed bus, and do attend a special class and just possibly might end up getting a check for disability for the rest of her life.

So please, think twice when you recommend something that carries this word with it. It's not just that it's offensive, it's that you're allowing this word to be whitewashed into daily life, swept under the rug because 'the rest of it was good' and people remain desensitized to the discrimination.

Do it for me. Do it for Ruby.

Nailed it!

Yep, it's November 30th and I posted every damn day, bitches. 

What happens now? will I disappear into the ethers, never to blog again? Will I return to the occasional rant about jerks and the less occasional boast about my awesome kid? 

What color will my hair be next month? 

The possiblities are endless. 

 

Progress

So close. So close to the end I can taste it. I'd like to go out with a bang, telling you some outrageous story about me, Tony Soprano and a pipe wrench but... I really shouldn't.

Instead I'll tell you that at 4 am I was woken up by being pummeled with a multitude of elbows and knees that completely scared the bejesus out of me. I yelped and startled the poor kid (who was clearly having a bad dream) back into her own bed where she cried out "I'm saweeee I'm saweeee!!!" to which I tried to reassure her that there was absolutely nothing to be sorry about, I was just startled.

She then popped her head up and shouted: I HAVE TO GO POTTY!

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and so we ran to the bathroom, pulled off her night time diaper (that usually wakes up dry) and popped her up on the toilet in the darkness.

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and then she peed. For the first time ever, my kid woke up to pee in the night. The heavens parted, and a choir of angels sang a holy tune of tinkle tinkle little pee. Progress people, it's all about progress.

The new girl

There she stands, hesitant to open the door, but not wanting to turn back to the elevator. I've just gotten off the elevator myself, heading in for a routine blood draw, and she's blocking my way into the office. She looks nervous, scared, like she feels a little silly.  We make eye contact, something you rarely do in the office of grief and shame and I shrug and reach for the door. She laughs a little and goes on in. 

The front desk attendant knows me well, checks me in and summons the phlebotomist. I overhear the woman from the doorway apologize for coming back in, but she wanted to discuss some questions about her calendar. As I walk away, she sits down with my favorite nurse and they discuss her upcoming cycle. Clearly her first. 

My blood draw is quick and easy. The phlebotomist and I laugh and talk about silly things like refrigerator magnets and pie. She's my favorite, by far. 

As I check out, I notice the girl from the doorway sitting alone on the consult couch, fretting her hands, checking her phone. My favorite nurse comes out and hands her a bag, tells her to just take it one day at a time. Easily said from someone who isn't staring down the barrel of a 2 page calendar filled with needles in the stomach. 

We both end up waiting for the elevator at the same time again. She keeps her eyes on the floor as I ask her what floor, and press the buttons. When the doors open, and she takes a step out, I say, softly: 

Good luck.

She turns back to me, tears in her eyes and says:

Thank you, I'm kind of scared.

I smile and nod as the elevator closes and I head down to my own car. I feel a little choked up myself, remembering my first time, the anxiety, the fears, the wonder of: what will happen. I'm grateful  I'm not the new girl, grateful I'm not in that precarious place of: will I ever know what it's like to be a mother. And yet, here I am, still here after all these years, trying to complete my family, wondering what will happen, feeling anxious, scared and precarious. I know what it's like to be a mother, and it's so good I want to do it again. But I'm so very glad I'm not the new girl. 

I hope she's not for long either. 

 

Running out of steam

Oy. 4 days left and I'm really running out of steam. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, I just don't want to share it with you. 

I thought I might finish up the 30 days of truth, but... eh, I'm not feeling it. 

I thought maybe I'd find some inspiration in other bloggers, but... eh, none of them are lighting  my fire. 

So I'm going to end this sunday by telling you how much I love Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Chocolates. 

 

 

A lot. 

Muppet madness

 

Yesterday I took Ruby to see the new Muppet Movie with most of my family.  A few of the dudes stayed behind to watch foozball, but really they missed the best show. 

I was skeptical that Ru would make it though the movie at all, since she'd pretty much been a melting, screaming mess most of the morning. She'd had such  a great day on Thanksgiving that it was no surprise she had a hard time keeping her shit together on Friday. Lots of melt downs, lots of crying, lots of throwing stuff. I kept asking her if she wanted to go see a movie and she'd say "no, no movie!" so I finally showed her the trailer to the Muppet movie and her interest peaked. It wasn't until I told her we could get popcorn that she willingly changed her clothes, grabbed her backpack and headed for the car. 

She hadn't peed in a while, so I kept asking her if she needed to go potty, which of course she didn't once we were in the theater. We had 30 minutes of previews (some of which were way too intense for my kid) and I was sure that we'd never make it through the whole movie without a melt down and/or wet pants. 

Finally the movie started and Ruby was riveted. She sat on the edge of the seat or cuddled up in my lap and couldn't take her eyes off the screen.  She enjoyed each song, bopping her head and singing along even though she didn't know the words most of the time. When it finally came time for the Chickens to perform Forget you by Cee Lo Green she was 100% in Ruby Show mode. She had every person around us laughing and watching her, not the screen. 

I could not have loved her more in that moment. My girl has the Muppet Madness and I plan on doing everything I can to feed it. 

Under the wire

I almost forgot.

Busy day.

Saw muppet movie.

Kid loved it.

Date night.

Happy.

My kid rocked Thanksgiving. Or as we renamed it, Thanksbacon

Bacon wrapped turkey.
Deep fried turkey.
Bacon wrapped mushrooms.
Brussels sprouts roasted with bacon.
Roasted garlic mashed potatoes.
Roasted beets.
Baked squash.
Creamed corn.
Nanas stuffing.
Cranberry relish.
Cranberry applesauce.

See? Thanksbacon. So much food. So much yum. Plus pie. Apple pie, pumpkin pie and blueberry cream cheese pie. Hello stretchy pants!

And then Ruby? Rocked it. Entertained everyone with her silly antics and her new favorite tag line "It's complicated!". Even after clearly getting overwhelmed, she regrouped and was able to rejoin the fray. She played with her cousins, did crafts with her auntie, did iPad with just about everyone, and interacted with pretty much everyone in the house.
When it (finally) came time to eat, she sat on my lap at the table and ate her (totally different) meal and smiled for the camera and happily interacted with those around her. At bedtime she happily ran upstairs and started her routine.
Best. Thanksbacon. Ever.

Letters from Siri

I thought I was being so clever. Showing off my new fancy phone to my parents. I turned on Siri and said: "text daddy"
To which she replied:

"I do not know who your father is."

Oh. Lolz all around.

Some days you're just crabby. You've got a low grade headache, it's pouring rain and windy as hell. You have errands up to here and half of them are thwarted due to miscommunication, traffic or simple human error. Everything takes twice as long and then you get stuck in rush hour traffic.
You're crabby and everything everyone does irritates you, especially your kid. Through no fault of her own she is driving you up every wall she can get you near.
You'd think that tonight would be the perfect night to pass off bedtime to your other half, but you know in your heart that what you need is that bedtime snuggle to right the cranky wrongs of the day. An hour of books and singing and connection will remind you that you're not a crap parent and that you're actually good at this.
You get in bed and read a few stories and the sweetest voice ask for her favorite song. But before you can sing a note she busts out with her own, and not only can you not help but laugh, but ALL the crabbiness is washed away.

I love this kid.