Singing a Patriotic Tune

It's a good day to be an American; a woman; and pro-family! That said, I am looking forward to regaining some sense of sanity even if it means I won't have anything to write about! My status updates will return to ridiculous blah blah about cranky children, waiting in line, and what I'm having for dinner. Pretty sure my friends will be thrilled!

Oh hell no!!!

Obviously I am a staunch supporter of the Democratic party. Granted, some people that I love dearly are the "R Word", and you know what? That's ok. I love them for the people they are not the ballots they cast. HOWEVER, I will not abide by other people's judgement and holier than thou attitude. I was at the polls today, waiting in line- not to vote, but at the bake sale table. I mean really, my kids will go to school there one day, I am fine with buying some gluten free treats to support them!!! No big deal. There was a couple standing there too, who I don't know, but are a couple. Two women, there with THEIR KIDS. I don't give a hoot how many mommies children have. It's not my call. I care that parents provide their children with love, support, and the freedom to be who they are. If the only thing I give my children is the comfort to know they will always be loved, then I have done my job as a parent. Personally, I also support gay marriage, and adoption, and anything else someone who is gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered- wants to do. In college I was a big Rainbow Coalition member- yes, me, a straight white girl- and firmly believed then, as I do now, that who you love doesn't matter AT ALL. My grandfather? Not so much. I had a rainbow pin on my backpack and he was APPALLED. He wanted me to take it off before entering his house. After several hours of me sitting in the carport REFUSING my grandmother (a pain in my butt but I loved her dearly) appealed to him and I was allowed into the house. He was also a republican with a big, fat, capital R, and I loved him dearly too. More than almost anyone in my life, except my mom. Yes, I turned the pictures of George Bush when I was staying there, but I loved him vociferously and ferociously. I digress- polling place. Massachusetts. Present day. Another woman waiting in line for delicious chocolate chip cookies, was huffing and puffing next to the family also waiting for their sweet treat. She was visibly perturbed and honestly, I just couldn't take it anymore. I asked if she was ok. She rolled her eyes and said "I just don't understand how people like THAT can pretend to be parents and waltz in here." Holy. Shit. I had not encountered such overt homophobia. And loud! And obvious!!!!!! This woman was glaring, and shooting daggers at a happy family supporting the neighborhood school. I couldn't take it. I am incredibly thankful that my children weren't with me, because I lost it. It's been a long week and there was no more holding back (I work with the only Republican teachers I have ever met and dang, school has been like a war zone!). I let it rip. I will never repeat what I really said because honestly, I'm not too proud of some of the language I used. No F bombs or traditional curse words, I was in an elementary school, but let's just say I asked some prying questions into her bedroom behavior, and the way she was raising her children, and whether she liked it or not when I was passing judgement. I have no idea who she was, or what her life is like, but in that moment, I really didn't give a rat's ass. I can tolerate many things but not bigotry and hatred in action. There are many things I want to say even now- I am still SO MAD.

Proud of myself? Maybe not. It probably wasn't the time nor place, but I couldn't let it go. I will certainly never be the queen bee of the mom's group, because she could be a member for all I know.

But my children will grow up in a family that does not accept bigotry or hatred. And having a mom willing to speak up, be heard, and fight for the rights of ALL Americans.

Happy Election Day to one and all. Be heard. Be the voice of reason.

Oy. Professional Development.

So today I have a professional development workshop on writing. It's actually really good, but they made us write a personal narrative. At eight. In the MORNING. So I thought I would share it for kicks and giggles.

Fabric swatches, spider webs of thread, scraps of paper. Slightly skewed pins poke my fingers as I sift through my box of treasures. A purple and teal quilt square drips over the edge like paint sliding down the outside of the can. It’s not paint, but fabric is my paint of choice. I use bits and snippets to create colorful scenes to be shared and loved by many.

The purple and teal are remnants from the first foray I made into quilting. At my mother’s side she showed me how to use the rotary cutter oh so carefully making neat even rows of squares. She taught me to thread the sewing machine effortlessly, and how NOT to sew my own finger. That first quilt still hangs in my childhood bedroom and lord is it ugly. Yet every time I see it I return to sun filled afternoons in the attic sewing room adjacent to my bedroom. I remember that in the middle of the night when sleep eluded me, I would slip over to the “other” side taking care not to fall down the stairs or hit my head on the slanted ceiling just to sort and rearrange colorful blocks until it was just right, only to be redesigned the next day.

Those afternoons sewing were a highlight of my very busy youth. I spent endless hours rehearsing and performing, soaking up the spotlight (literally) center stage. The fabric play was just a background piece of me- something I didn’t talk about or identify as making me who I was. Yet now, as an adult, it is the fabric that soothes me and gives me moments of tranquility in my hectic, 2012 mommy life. Each day brings with it new challenges and rewards, but very little time to actually sit and just be. Those stolen moments I have in the dining room with my fabric is magical- even when I’m cursing at the bobbin case that always catches or the dull rotary blade, I am really soaking up the restorative powers of craft- of moments in the sun with my mother sewing. No, the quilts are never perfect, but each one is beautiful, redolent with happy memories.

Dear GOP

Today is election day, which is awesome. My status of the morning was a dud, as I remember being awakened in 1992 the day after election day and upon learning of the loss of Clinton, sobbed and sobbed. Of course, Clinton WON in 1992, but the sentiment was still accurate! My mom reminded me of how when I was little when Reagan came on the TV I would cry inconsolably. I don't remember that but clearly I was politically motivated even at a young age. I do remember holding Clinton/Gore signs at the SuperFresh grocery store in Glassboro, NJ- wearing a plaid flannel shirt of course. C'mon, it was the nineties!!! So here we are many years later, and it's election time again. I have a vote, a voice, a choice, and I know who I will be casting a ballot for. Well, I think I do. Unless the GOP ponies up.

Dear GOP,
If you want my vote I need a couple of things. I will consider tossing my vote your way if you send me a nanny. Not just any nanny, I want SuperNanny. The British one. For at least a period of six years.
Love,
Very Tired Mommy

If you throw in a few sister wives to help with the laundry, then it's a done deal.

(please note- this post is written in jest-obviously my vote can't be bought!)

Wahoo! Or not?!

So recently this weird thing has happened- I lost almost twenty pounds since the spring and am pretty damn close to my wedding weight. I am guessing it's a diet of caffeine and no sleep but whatever, I'll take it. I fit in my PRE-MILES JEANS. This is awesome. It's fabulous. I can even button them and LEAVE them buttoned when sitting down! However, and here's the kicker- they are not so much fashion forward. They're a fashion rewind. I would never think that jeans go out of style, but oh, they do. I wore them last week and my very stylish homeroom of all girls (yeah, 7:45 to 8:05 am every day is like backstage at fashion week- they swap clothes, put on makeup, take it off, try to do it again, and then finally ask me to do it- before the boys walk into first period English Lit) and they called me OUT. "Um, Baer-boo (which is apparently my nickname this year- last year was Baer-YO) what decade are you dressed up as? I thought decade day (spirit week...sigh) was tomorrow?" Honestly I thought I looked fine but apparently they are the wrong "wash". Too eighties. C'mon, the only thing these kids know about the 80's is potentially eighty year old people! Can I call them out for wearing skin tight pants with "PINK" emblazoned on their bums? Those are HIDEOUS. Yoga pants, girls, yoga pants are where it's at.

With pearls.

A Drop in the Bucket

So today was our friend Thanksgiving- it was AWESOME of course. The food, the conversation, the wine- everything was LOVELY. In preparation though I had to drive all the way to Trader Joe's. I mean really, that's TWO towns over from work. It took me TWENTY THREE minutes. I kvetched about the anticipated trip all day. Dreaded it. Never mind the only reason I was going was to get wine! I got a bottle of this delicious stuff called Pinot Grigio Vivace for my birthday- it was fizzy like a prosecco but had a lovely crisp, citrusy finish. Like any good wine drinker I googled the brand and found out I could only get it at Trader Joe's- that was kind of lame but then I saw the price- $4.99. Yeah, that's right. Less than five bucks! Two bottles for the price of one bottle of Oyster Bay (which is still the most superior fantastic wine on the market don't misunderstand me- but not an everyday wine) and I was sold. Off to Trader Joe's I would go. Now that's a market that I totally don't understand- but I never shop there. It is always so hard for me to find stuff and some things are WAY cheaper but others (like capers!) are three times the price that they have at Weggie's. That and I always leave with way too many impulse buys just because of the workers in their Hakuna Matata style Hawaiian shirts. So I digress- I got to the store pretty quickly- no traffic- and busted straight for the wine section. I looked and looked and looked but couldn't find it. I finally asked the resident wino where it was and that's when he said it- "we're out", there are problems with our supplier. I almost lost it and started to get riled up until I glanced at the bottled water display.

It smacked me in the face right then- here I am worried about getting a preferred wine and much of the east coast is more concerned with finding potable water. Puts that in perspective, doesn't it? So I bought my second choice wine, a case of water, and smiled as I drove home- thankful for all that I have. My inner spoiled brat: 0. Rational thought: 1.

Parents & Kids

So this is sort of political, but sort of not. There is a candidate in this election who appears to be overly concerned about parents- who is parenting, how many of them, and is sort of stuck on this one mom, one dad, married situation. Yeah, that's what families were traditionally like, but really? It doesn't always work out like that. I am a lucky woman- I was raised in a loving family that instilled in me confidence and good values, as well as the importance of being able to take care of myself (when I am sick though all bets are off and I want my mommy- NOW!). Now that I am a parent with two pretty spectacularly amazing little boys, I am even more confused as to why a politician would give two ducks who is parenting. Let's get real- there are thousands of unloved, uncared for children in this country. There are kids that are abused, neglected, belittled, and perhaps worst of all, unloved. These are the children that I want my elected officials to concern themselves with. I certainly don't have an answer, but am pretty sure forcing women to bring unwanted children into the world is NOT it. Suggesting that two moms, two dads, and single parenting situations are the problem? Um, no. Families are not created by a legal marriage certificate, or anything other than love and the desire to raise another generation of inclusive, loving children raised with the common value that no one can determine what is moral or amoral when it comes to that love. I know some married male/female parents that kind of suck. I am sure there are some same sex couples that kind of suck as parents too. Being a crap parent can happen to anyone, and for fleeting moments even. We've all been there, at least for a bit. My kid's Jack O' Lantern is really ugly, probably because I refused to let him do the carving (mommy really likes that kind of thing!) and at that moment, I sucked. My J Dog is currently caterwauling as I think of other examples of my sucktasticness. I let my three year old sleep in my bed when dear hubs is working late because I am just too tired to go through the bedtime antics by myself.

Next thing you know politicians will be making comments about my family too. It's a slippery slope.