Zippity Do Da and A Wino

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Zippity-Do-Da-Motherfuckers! I made it. I actually posted for every letter. I basically wrote  everyday. It was a hectic month. I've had a lot of shit on my mind and dark clouds over my head, writing has really helped in a way that only running used to. Yay, for free therapy!

This week's topic is: What's bugging you lately?

What's bugging me, is that I've run into a road block. It's my drinking. I'm trying to lose weight and drinking is not conducive to this quest. Unfortunately not drinking means...(dramatic pause)... No drinking, and that just sucks.

It bothers me that I'm an alcoholic.

Not in a lose my job, family, home, dignity kind of way.

Not in a have to do it, to make it through a day kind of way.

I just like to, and I do. Often. It's just every time I shouldn't, because it's empty calories, or it's poison for the body I'm training, or I was pregnant and then pumping and nursing. I have to face the fact that I hate not being able to drink when I want to. That my friends makes me a wino.

And that really bothers me.

This post is brought to you
by the letter 'Z'

It's Over

Of course I always knew the time would come when we would be here. When it would be over, and I couldn't wait. Except now that it is. It's so bittersweet.

Animal stopped nursing completely this week. He's been self weaning for a couple of months now. Only nursing before bed. We have this routine, we turn on his little turtle that puts stars on the ceiling, then we turn on his gentle giraffe (womb sounds) finally I pull out our boppy and we sit in our special chair across from his crib. When he's done nursing I lay him down and tuck him in before walking out.

A few days before Mother's day after turning on his stars and sounds, I pulled out the boppy and he waved goodbye to me very sweetly. It surprised me, but I went with it. Half expecting him to reach out to me crying when he realized I was going to just lay him down and walk out. He smiled at me angelically as I put him down and tucked him in. I said, "Good night, I love you". He babbled softly and pulled his blanket up to his chin. Then I walked out, and he went to sleep. I teared up. It was over. I didn't have a baby anymore.

Of course he's been a toddler for the better part of a year. But at least once a day, he was still my baby. And of course he always will be, except he isn't.

I always knew I was going to breastfeed, but I had never expected to nurse past his first birthday. Once we read all the material on breastfeeding, the hubby and I just agreed that I would nurse him until he was done. Or he turned two. I didn't want to nurse a preschooler. Then I met all these women that are crunchy granola moms not crunchy granola lite, like me that I kinda admire. I'm such a hippie at heart. It just seemed less and less strange, and more and more natural that we would self wean.

Then he shocked me. He's been self weaning for months, and it's just done. He just grew up. It seemed so natural and pretty much seamless how it just ended.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have my body back. It's great to have the extra time and that the hubby can put the baby to bed without me any night now. I'm especially excited to NOT have to look at the clock to decide if I can have a glass of wine.

It's bittersweet.

Yadda, it kind of sucks to be done with the baby days.

This is post is brought to
you by the letter 'Y'

Listen Yuckbuddies, yadda is like bleep for the bad word. C'mon it's the letter Y, there is little to choose from as far as "bad" words go.

Tavern Tale Tuesdays

Guys I'm guest posting today at:

I'm really excited to share some of my best tips with you to make your trips to Whole Foods Market more budget friendly. Just click here.

       

This post is brought to you
by the letter 'X'

Last week, Kate@Another Clean Slate posted a pretty funny post about a mishap she had when she was meeting some friends for a drink. This story cracked me up and made me think of all the ridiculous things that I have done/have happened to me/I have seen when I have been out with friends or the hubby. I thought it would be fun to share these tales occasionally in post I'll title Tavern Tale Tuesdays. I'm starting with a story I'm actually embarrassed about, but I needed to use the letter x...

Without further ado...

One night the hubby and I went to a club where a friend would be the DJ. We got dressed up, and as per our usual we invited EVERYONE we would like to drink and dance with.

I was at my fittest and the hubby had bought me this amazing dress. It was not at all revealing but it hugged my curves in all the right places. I was looking pretty hot, and was feeling really confident that night. We had a lot of friends there and were having a fabulous time dancing our asses off and drinking copious amounts of liquor (my very favorite combo).

We were hanging out with these two really good looking guys I always thought were gay (because they were always together, dressed very fashionably, were well groomed and gentlemanly) but they were(are) totally straight. The hubby leaves to get me a gin and tonic (my drink of choice at the time).

I'm chatting with these guys and my cousin when I realize the hubby has been gone an awfully long time. I look up and see him chatting up these two girls at the bar and I can tell that he is buying them drinks. These girls were NOT a part of our group. We made up half our party and the other half was out on the dance floor.

I quickly turned into a jealous fucking Xanthippe, my alter ego. I turn to the guys and my cousin and get belligerent.

"Who the FUCK is he talking to?"

"Is he buying those bitches drinks?"

The guys start trying to talk me down with compliments, but I am kinda psycho when it comes to the hubby. I reach down for my heel...

"I'm going to stab him in the neck!"

The guys are a little startled, but continue to try and calm me down with a combination of flattery and rationalizations. It isn't really working the heel is in my hand but still close to the ground.

Then he (the hubby) turns toward us walking back to were we are sitting. With my drink in his hand, AND these two girls. My blood was boiling. I picture myself pouncing on him like a vampire.

Then I notice these girls are my hubby's good friends, one is his ex room mate and I happen to really like these girls, we invited them to come to the club that night. We always invite them, they never come (they don't live in town), but this night they did. I calm down immediately. I feel foolish, and about two inches tall. I slip my heel back onto my bare foot. I tell the now anxious guys about my mistake. They kind of laugh it off. Kinda. They keep it to themselves, out of fear, I guess.

The rest of the night goes great. I do fess up to the hubby. The next day.

Wanna Be

 Today as we celebrate the 4th of July, we here at Theme Thursday take a break from our regular topics to give you a chance to read something you may have missed we think worthy of your time. We invite you to click the button and find other treasures or to link your own. ENJOY :)

Years ago, Nike came out with Nike+.

An amazing system that connected a chip in your shoe, to your music (iPod), to an online GPS linked community. I have never been a fan of Nike, because I disagreed strongly with their manufacturing practices and so never bought a shoe that they made. Like the consumerist hypocrite I am, I quickly turned a blind eye to what I didn't like because I wanted this so bad.

That Christmas, my hubby bought me a pair of Nike+ shoes, the Nike+ chip and an i Pod Nano (I and the hubby also dislike apple and at the time used our awesome Creative Zen mp3 players). He spent a lot to hook me up with some outstanding running gear that I was dying to own.

Then, he said this (I'm totally paraphrasing because as mentioned, I have a terrible memory), "I want  to see your wanna-be-runner-ass on the track every morning, cuz I buy you new running shoes every year, because this is the year you're really gonna start running. And it never happens".

The hubby and I have known each other since our junior year in high school, so he has been privy to my desire to be a runner for a long time. This was always my new years resolution.

It was true. I always wanted to be a runner, but I always gave up. It was always something. The killer shin splints, my inability to breath, the fact that seniors were lapping me. I would about die every time I attempted to realize this goal. I literally thought my heart was going to explode in my chest. But him calling me a fucking wanna be, my ego could not take it.

I'm pretty competitive and I just cannot handle this sort of criticism, but what could I say? He was right. I was a wanna be. I always wanted to be, but I never put in the work. I always gave up.

Well not this time. This time I was going to be a runner or die trying.

Every other morning I got up. My brother would join me. We would run a mile. I turned up my Nano so loud that it drowned out my gasps for air. I told myself if I couldn't hear it, it wasn't happening. I would want to stop, but every time I wanted to stop short of that mile, I would say to myself, "Am I going to be a runner or a wanna be?".

Eventually, I was able to run that mile without being certain of my impending death. The Nike+ was an amazing motivator too. It added up my mileage, cheered me on and even congratulated me when I met a new goal.

One day I realized that we were running that mile in 12 minutes instead of 15+. I wasn't out of breath anymore. I came up with a plan we would run 15 minutes every time, my brother agreed. Then when I realized 15 was doable, I told my brother, "let's add 1 minute each week". He said OK.

Before I knew it, we were running two miles. Two miles in 22 minutes. TWO MILES. I would run and think, "who's a wanna be now?"

I'm grateful to my hubby, for always knowing just what to say, to chide me into giving it my all. And for always believing I can do it.

This post is brought to you
by the letter 'W'

Rainbows and Unicorns

 


The hubby shared this with me. I loved it so much I wanted to share with you. If you don't love it too, you might be a a Unicornfucker.

This post was brought to you
by the letter 'U'

Evil

Evil.

This theme has been kicking my ass. I really just didn't know where to begin. I feel like I've been a little heavy lately, and was hoping for something fun.

No such luck.

Dictionary.com where I get all my dictionary needs met, now that my phone is rarely not in my hand, defines Evil like this: (adjective) 1. morally wrong or bad; immoral; wicked: evil deeds; an evil life. Or (noun) 7. the force in nature that governs and gives rise to wickedness and sin.

The first definition, is going a little easy I think. Like evil light. I guess it is accurate.

When I was in my late teens/early twenties, I used that word a lot. In stories. Stories about my life, people I met, things I did. That were bad, wicked or immoral.

I can see how people that think it is morally wrong, bad or wicked to breastfeed in public could say it's evil. Where I see a woman nurturing her child, something natural and beautiful. They see titties, it's vulgar. Evil.

As an adult. I see evil as a noun. Why does it happen? The hubby says, because man is inherently evil. I used to hate when he said this. I think people are inherently good, and it is life that sows the seeds of evil.

Does it exist? Most definitely. Just turn on the news, any fucking day of the week. Kidnap victims, gun men, teachers that molest children, people all over the world starving, bombings, rapes, schools that are failing, I could literally go on and on. But I just don't want to. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to know about it. I want to wish it away. I want to protect Animal from it. Does it exist because I, we, don't stand up and stop it. Does it exist because the hubby is right (again) and man is just evil.

Maybe.

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to you by the letter 'T'

Have your own thoughts on evil? Or just want to read ours? Click the TT button!

Well Rested Mama

This post is brought to you
by the letter 'R'

Rested. 

Some mornings I am, but WELL rested...

I think since having Animal, I have been well rested a handful of times. Sometimes (more often than I would like to admit) it's my fault. 

He's been sleeping through the night for almost eleven months, and I stopped getting up to pump nine months ago. The thing is, if I want to have time to write. Time to catch up on all the trash and sitcoms I love to watch. Time to hang out with the hubby, just us. Time to get chores done, uninterrupted. I have to stay up past my bedtime. Before I became a mommy I would go to bed about 9, sometimes 8:30. Now I go to bed between 10-11. 

If I want to have time to run. Time to eat breakfast. Time to have a tasty, HOT cup of coffee. Time to shower, time to pee without interruptions. Time to make and pack lunches. I have to get up by 6, 5 on my running days.

You know what, I don't even always care. Sure it means I have to drink a cup of coffee if I don't want to stumble through my day like a *retard, but being constantly sleep deprived (at this point, with newborn life still fresh in my mind) seems well worth it.

I can't afford to go to Starbucks everyday, but I also can't handle instant. The price is right, but the taste is less than ideal. I can do the Nescafe if I have some flavorful creamers. The problem with that is I just added like 200 calories, and 5 grams of fat. That is just not cool. NOT COOL.

So, I'm gonna share my secret to faking a well rested morning. 

First, work out if possible. No joke, the least awesome part of my day is waking up to a fucking alarm clock. Often though, the best part of my day is my run, and the burst of energy it provides.

Second, come home and warm up 1 cup of fat free milk and 6 oz of water.  While that's warming up, in a stainless steel tumbler add 1 package of Via, currently I'm rocking the blonde because it seems to pack less of a caffeine punch and so I can still get a good nights sleep. Add 1 pack of splenda or a tablespoon brown sugar. Lastly, poor hot milk/water into your travel mug. Seal and enjoy. The milk is a very important component to this beverage. It not only adds a richness that makes you feel like you're treating yourself, but for a mere 90 calories your adding 9 grams of protein, calcium and vitamin D. 

The tumbler is key for us mommies for two reasons. First it enables you to finish your cup hot without the need to zap in microwave 10 times, until finally, defeated you throw half the cup down the sink so that you can get to those pesky dishes that have been waiting all morning to be washed. Second, you don't have to worry about a mischievous child, spilling, breaking, tasting, or worse burning themselves on a hot cup of Joe left unattended to handle some other pressing matter.

Lastly, use some Erase Paste by BeneFit.

Follow these tips and you will look well rested and perky. You're welcome.

*This post is part of ABC's of Swearing Challenge and I'm sorry if I offended anyone with the use of the word retard, but rimjob was the only other bad word I could think of, and I just couldn't think of a way to include rimjob into this post. Also, yesterday I used queerdo, which I was equally conflicted about. This challenge has truly challenged me, but has been a lot of fun and I hope you are enjoying as much as I am.

Crispin Hard Apple Cider Review

Listen up queerdos, I've mentioned before I'm not big on beer cuz it just doesn't pack the punch of hard liquor. Nevertheless I like to change it up a bit and drink a little of this and a little of that.

As a mom of a toddler, I need to be able to make myself a good stiff drink and then move on. Often one is all I get. Both for obvious time restraint, and because I still have to take care of my little love bug. While I do sometimes pawn the parental responsibilities to the hubby, I also want to enjoy my little Tasmanian devil. So I can't always be the lush my heart yearns to be. Sobriety, much to my chagrin, is an important component of being a good mommy.

The hubby tried this a few weeks ago and kind of raved about it, so I decided I needed to check it out for myself, as the hubby has good taste.

Crispin's Hard Apple Cider has 6.9% alc. by vol and comes in a 22 oz. bottle. *remember most beers come in the 4% alc. by vol range so this is already a winner in my book. It tastes an awful lot like a yummy Mexican apple soda with just a hint of alcohol so you are not fooled into thinking that you're drinking just a soda. It's bubbly, light, crisp and VERY tasty. I got a nice little buzz and if I'd had it before lunch I bet it would have been even more fun. All kidding aside, this was a truly enjoyable cider. I would have very much enjoyed it with pork chops, a pulled pork sandwich or bar-b-que. It was truly delightful.

One last tip for you bargain hunters...this bottle retails for 9.99-11.99 at Safeway, but the exact same bottle runs you 5.99 at Whole Foods. So if there's one in your area pick it up there.

Enjoy, I know I will enjoy this again many times. 

This post was brought to you
by the letter 'Q'

Parenting Fail # 82

brush brush brush 

Okay, I'm gonna tell you the fail at the end, so be patient.

I have been patting myself on the back like a fucking pendeja (spanish for dumbass) for months now.

It all started when Animal got some teeth, I brushed them with that little finger brush.

Then we moved onto a training toothbrush. I (from day one) would sing Animal this song "Brush Brush Brush your teeth, morning noon and night, brush them, brush them, brush them, till they're clean and white." He would smile happily doing the motion of brushing teeth, up and down, side to side (because I would sing the tooth doing the motions prior to brushing as a warning of what was coming).

when I handed Animal his first training toothbrush, he knew just what to do. And he just did it.

I fucking patted myself on the back like a puta (Spanish for whore) would pat herself on the back for having three holes plugged. yeah I'm getting cochina in this post I was so fucking proud, like ridiculous bragging proud.

Now, I didn't actually brag to anyone, I just in my heart wanted to be all "my son brushes his teeth like a boss, cuz I'm a kick ass mom! Suck it bitches!"

Then one day, that little asshole was done with it.

Maybe that's being extreme. Is he an asshole for being a typical toddler? Yes! For letting my heart be all braggy and shit.

He was done with brushing his teeth.

I handed him his toothbrush and were he once brushed his teeth happily, he just threw it to the ground. Stepped on it. Or did anything else with toothbrush that would keep that toothbrush out of his mouth.

We couldn't get him to brush his teeth. We tried forcing it. By forcing I mean literally pinning his arms down, and holding his face. Yeah. We didn't want to, but dental hygiene is very important. So you know the fail here, I thought I was the shit mom, cuz I taught my kid to brush his teeth. No fights, no fuss no muss.

Anyway, the fail (for those of you that need it spelled out), obviously is that I thought I was...

Cooler, better, more awesome than most moms.

The truth was, I'm just like every other mom. Sometimes I rock, sometimes I'm rocked.

You'll be happy to know that he's brushing his teeth again, or he let's me brush his teeth. Sometimes, most days.

This is post is brought to you
by the letter 'P'

The Facebook

Facebook. That's this week 's topic. There are few social mainstream mediums that annoy me more than Facebook. I resisted getting one. Until it seemed (to me) that I should really have one for my blog if I hoped more people might click on something I wrote, and maybe even enjoy it and come back for more. A girl can dream, can't she?

So when I am asked to think about Facebook, I naturally think of MySpace. Yeah. I'm old, bitter and the mom of a toddler. I don't wear mom jeans, but I do live in the past.

Here's what I wrote a few months ago...

I loved MySpace once upon a time. I know, MySpace is OFN, old fucking news.

Then everybody got a Facebook page. Everybody. Even my parents. Everyone that is except the hubby and I. We abstained. Up until a few months ago, I didn't have a personal page. Nor did I want one.

I don't always do things everyone else does. If it all. I'll admit I'm a conformist in many ways. I get up everyday and go to work. I pay bills. I'm married. I have a kid. I drive a car. I recycle. I bring my own bags to the grocery store. I'm a consumer. Yawn. You get the picture. The thing is I want to do all those things. I don't want to be on Facebook. The only 2 awesome things about MySpace becoming obsolete was getting my time back and that it forced me to stop the over sharing. MySpace was a super fun time suck, and I didn't need a boring time suck.

Except now I do. I need to learn things and to promote things and I'm gonna need a fucking Pen name. So now I have them. A pen name and  a Facebook account. It is just a boring MySpace. It reveals way to much about me and constantly "suggest" people to friend, things to "like" and asks me to tell you were I am. Annoying.

It makes me worry about when Animal grows up. Social media is a crazy beast that thankfully I didn't have to think about maneuvering until I was an adult. It's a whole different world for our children. I hope I can teach him wisely and that he doesn't hate me too much for all the policing I'll inflict, the limits I'll set. I think of Facebook now as a necessary evil (and okay it's also a little funner than thought), and a new parental responsibility in my future.

What do you think about Facebook?




This post is now part of a multi blogger collaboration, to join in or read more please click the TT button!

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I Feel Like Rocky!

Proud moments, we all have them. Today's theme is to share one. 

Last weekend I ran my first non stop 60 minute run in more than 2 years. It was absolutely wonderful, and I almost didn't do it. The night before I got a terrible nights sleep. I was sleepy and was worried about a long run. The Cardio Trainer app was updating me randomly, and the news was not good.

I wrote about my slow pace a while back and how I was gonna be happy and proud of it because it was gonna get me to where I wanted to go. And it has been, after all I  was about to run a 6 mile run, but I have been whittling my pace down, lately I was running 9:46 min per mile, close to my first goal of 9:30 min per mile.

Randomly the robotic voice of Cardio Trainer was letting me know that I was running 10:17, 10:05, 10:37 sure they were sprinkled sparingly in there. The mental damage was done though. Little cracks in my long awaited come back run.

I was thinking I could pick up the pace as I warmed up, but two miles in I realized that was not happening. Nuts! Mile 3 started feeling long, I started thinking about giving up on my run this week. If it couldn't be perfect I didn't have to do it. I could do it next week after a great nights sleep.

I kept running. I thought about my favorite quote. The strong, get stronger. Those four words have gotten me far. I repeated it to myself. Over and over for another another lap. Then once or twice for another lap, then not at all on the next. Before I knew it, I was on mile 4, only a quarter of my run left.

I was gonna do it, and it was almost over.

I started thinking about what I was gonna say if anyone asked me about my morning. "I just ran 6 fucking miles!" I would say.

Then I did. With an average pace of 9:56 min per mile, and I was so proud. I felt like fucking Rocky, and I'm not even kidding I raised my hands up in the air and felt invincible.

What I'm proud of is that I didn't give up. That I wont give up. That in October I'll run a half marathon. That I'll be that mom. That mom that doesn't give up.

This post is brought to you
by the letter 'N'

I Hate It When He's Right...

This post is brought to you
by the letter 'M'

I don't really remember how many years ago it was, but one evening we stumbled onto a show about teen pregnancy on MTV. It was really interesting to see just how difficult it was for these too young mom to be's. 

Even the hubby watched as these clueless couples went from shock and silly notions to the realities of parenthood. We watched the parents of these children having children, as they struggled to help their kids prepare for everything to change as they came to terms with their own heartache. It was a brutally honest show that ended with an interview and serious talk with Dr. Drew, of Love Line fame. We talked about the public service this type of documentary might be for a generation growing up to fast.

Then it happened, 16 and Pregnant. The hubby was instantly turned off and disgusted. He said MTV was going to create even more teen pregnancies by allowing these girls 15 minutes of fame. Who would want fame at that cost? Said I. 

Next came Teen Mom. I was hooked before it started having watched these girls go through their pregnancies and births. Did MTV pull the plug on 16 and Pregnant, now that they were following these young moms? No. That show continued too. Following new crops of pregnant teens. The hubby started with the I told you so's. 

I wasn't gonna watch any of the new teeny boppers, but then I got pregnant, and I had to watch every pregnant person and birth possible. 

Then those girls got their own show, Teen Mom 2. How could I not watch them as well. They were there when I was waiting for my own bundle of joy. We'd already been through so much together. 

The first Teen Mom series ended and I sighed a sigh of relief. It was over. Except it wasn't. Farrah's in a porn, Amber's in jail, Caitlyn and Tyler are on some new show getting therapy and Maci? I don't know, and I only pray that means she was able to move on without any publicized drama.

Teen Mom 2's season just ended. Two of the four girls seem stable for the moment. Chelsea, she just needs time. I think, I hope. But Janelle, she was on heroin. And it would seem that the Motherfuckers at MTV did nothing except record the awful train wreck for our entertainment. My entertainment. The hubby was right, I hate when he's right. He's right way too often for my liking.

I can't continue to watch this show. I'm helping the train derail for these poor girls.

Lazy Liberals

I was running an errand at Safeway tonight and when I pulled into a parking spot, and saw the sticker pictured above. 

It made me so angry. I snapped a photo and tweeted it with this question: How about, fuck you?

I didn't regret my sentiment. Only that I couldn't tweet everything I was thinking and feeling when I read said sticker. That someone might read my tweet and only think that I was being vulgar for vulgarities sake, but when see that bumper sticker that's what I read, a vulgar statement.

What I see is someone saying, "I am a Republican, and you're a lazy motherfucker!"

It makes me angry because my husband and I work so hard. Like, most people in this country. To imply that if I don't subscribe to your politics makes me a lazy ass is just asinine. My husband has been on his own since he was 17, except for financial aid a few semesters, he has never been on any public assistance including unemployment. I have been working since I was 15 and I have never used public assistance either, but I have paid into them, and I'm glad too. I think social programs are important safety nets that benefit our country as a whole.

So how dare you make a statement like that.

I am into politics, I watch political shows, read, listen to talk radio and even hold ballot nights to ensure family and friends are ready to vote. I would say I'm independent before picking a party. Even though I have my own very strong opinions, I would never put a bumper sticker on anything I own advertising such a judgemental blanket statement. 

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the letter 'L'

ABC Sucks

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I'm not a big fan of ABC.

At my house it rates under CBS, which I consider the Senior station. CBS has The Mentalist, which I enjoy even if the hubby can tell who the murder is 10 minutes into every episode. They also have football, even if it is the most boring commentators ever. I don't know how they manage to do it, but I take a nap every second quarter when the game's on CBS. They also have shows (I don't watch, but are popular) like CSI, and all the spin offs and Two and Half Men.

Back to lame ass ABC. I used to love TGIF as a kid, and 20/20 is still great. Recently they seem to have resurrected themselves with shows like Modern Family, Surbergatory, the B in Apartment 23 and  Happy Endings. That show is ridiculously funny. All the characters are hilarious. The hubby and I look forward to it every week. They have tried and tried to kill it, even moving it to the infamous Friday night spot, where good shows go to die. Well despite various efforts from the likes of Jenn at SomethingClever2point0, and the #savehappyendings campaign on Twitter those KoalaFuckers at ABC have pulled the plug on this great show.

I hubby broke the news to me today, Mother's day, and I will be forced to drink the rest of Sunday night away in order to subdue the hole that has been left in my soul. Fucking knicker lickers!

Hoop It Up

If there's one thing I don't give two jack shits about it's Basketball.

Right now as I type this, the local (read Bay Area darlings) team is in the play offs. There is a sea of yellow behind the team. Every year the hubby (a Lakers fan) watches a shit ton of basketball and so he talks about it a lot. Which is awesome. Except he insists on talking to me about it. It's kind of hilarious actually because my eyes glaze over and I start thinking about...anything else...and yet he continues to talk, like I have a clue who these people are. Like I care or follow their lives. It's almost amusing except it last all basketball season long, every year.

Maybe because I like and follow other sports. I enjoy sporting events. I respect athleticism.

I don't really know why he thinks I would give jack shit about Basketball. I've explained my reasons. They are as follows:

It's boring.

There are rules, but depending on who is officiating they may or may not apply. Even though you just saw it, they don't call it and unlike football there are no challenges. You can't even complain or you'll be ejected. The commentators are in on the fucking conspiracy. They show a replay and pretend it's not obvious that a charging/blocking foul was committed and the lame ass commentator is talking about some random shit happening in a star players life, or at a Lakers game what celebrity they can spot in the audience. In football, the commentators talk about it over and over, and explain why the call was wrong, and if it's not over turned it's fodder for the rest of the game.

I don't find lurch attractive. Or Shaggy. Or any other tall lanky wet noodles. If that's your thing cool. More for you.

Any way. I don't give two jack shits.

Go Warriors. I still want you to win, I just don't want to watch.

Immigrants

This post is brought to you by
the letter 'I'

Today, I want to talk (briefly, very briefly) about a set of words that aren't technically bad words, but when you hear them, you know they are.

Immigrant. 

Illegal alien.

Now, of course not every one that says them, says them in a slimy way. They don't always sound like a racial slur, and in fact neither is. 

But as a Mexican woman in California, both are words of much contention.

I'm gonna share a TRUE story from my childhood. 

In third grade, one day we had a substitute teacher. Our school day started with the class standing up and reciting the pledge of allegiance (like most children's day in this country). When our class stood up, the substitute announced to me and to the class that I could take my seat. I didn't need to recite the pledge of allegiance because I was not an American, I was just an immigrant. So I didn't need to join in. I was a little kid, I was embarrassed, and confused, and I didn't really know what he was talking about. It felt wrong, but I thought I had done something wrong. It was a shitty moment. It's still a crappy memory. 

Thanks, racist idiot.

My Favorite Parable

This week is all about Good Samaritans.

Have you ever met one? Sure, I know lots of people that sometimes are.

The story of the Good Samaritan is my favorite parable. I love the simplicity. You know the story right? To paraphrase, for anyone not familiar; It's about a man who is beaten, stripped, robbed and left for dead on the side of the road. Then how some people, some religious people, walk past him and do not help for various reasons. Then this Good Samaritan (think pagan) walks by sees the man and gently takes care of him. He dresses him with clothes off his back, carries him to town on his donkey and then pays an inn keeper to get him a doctor, shelter and feed him and he will come back to check on the man as soon as he can. The story is about how we should not judge others who are different than us as less generous, kind, or worthy than ourselves or those we consider our peers, AND the story reminds us to take a critical look at ourselves and how we treat others.

No matter how many times I hear this story it always stirs up a lot of feelings inside of me. About who I am. Who I want to be. And recently about who I want to raise my son to be.

I enjoy going to church. I enjoy singing His praises and worshiping Him with others. I like feeling like a part of a community who is being called to be better than our human nature sometimes lead us to be. But I hate the phoniness. The self righteousness. The non action. We are called to help those that cannot help themselves and yet the church is one of the first to stand up and put their fat judgemental foot on the necks of those that need the most love.

I'm often torn between my faith and the things my church does. *That's why I haven't been in years.

I want to share my faith with Animal. I want him to have strong roots and a community to turn to, when he turns away from me, as all adolescents do. However, more important to me, is that he be a Good Samaritan.

The Hubby is lots of things, but one of the things he is, is a truly kind hearted person. I expect that just like me, Animal will see his daddy be a Good Samaritan, randomly, quietly, without fanfare. And he will learn from that.

Have you ever been one? Sometimes, I too have been. Hopefully, most of the times the opportunity presented itself, and sometimes I sought out the opportunities.

But I have this thing. I always wanted to be the kind of person that let all societal ties fall away and give myself to a greater good. Obviously, I never did.

Probably never will.

So I will never feel like a Good Samaritan. Not really. Maybe you think that's horseshit, but it's my truth. You'll never convince me otherwise.

I read a book once,











that's the kind of person I want to be. Maybe in another life.

Today's post is brought to you
by the letter 'H'

Taking The Lord's Name In Vain

This post is brought to you by the
letter 'G'

My favorite swear word is, Goddammit. 

Goddammit!

Have you ever heard a better swear? I know that a lot of people believe that is taking the Lord's name in vain, but I don't see it that way. 

I am a Christian. I'm not ashamed to say it. I LOVE God. I thank Him for my life, my family, my blessings and my heartaches alike (admittedly I'm more enthusiastic about my blessings). I sing his praises (literally, mediocre voice and all) and I hope that when I am kind, forgiving, generous, selfless or understanding, that someone who feels lost and alone can think to themselves, "Is that, what the kind of person that believes in Christ is like? I'm like that, or I want to be like that."

When shit goes down, sometimes all I can think or say, is, "Goddammit!"

Goddammit, why am I envious? Why am I an asshole? Why I don't I feel like I'm good enough? Why do I have to struggle so much, when some people don't seem to struggle at all? Why does bad shit have to happen to good people? To defenseless creatures? To innocent children? Why is the world so fucked up? Why are there evil/greedy/sadistic/hateful/narcissistic/shitty people in the world/in charge of shit/around children? Why can't we all just get along? Why? Why? Why?

I don't know.

Man will never know the mind of God. Or so I've read.

But that doesn't mean I can't question. That doesn't mean I can't be angry. That doesn't mean I have to follow blindly. The beauty of knowing God says me,  is that I can.

God knows my heart. And therefore, I am free to speak my mind.

Glee Status

Today's post is brought to you by
the letter 'F'

Have you ever been just standing in line at the grocery store or where ever, minding your own fucking business when you hear a comment.

Some asinine comment.

Some ridiculously hateful, backward, fuckwad shit.

Like...

I can't think of anything, cuz I'm not that kind of asshole. Anyway, you get my drift right? Some racist, homophobic, or macho shit. 

Well, when I hear that kind of shit. I ask God why he fucked me? I don't have an awesome voice and I can't dance unless I'm drunk (and so are all the people around me) and I'm in high heels and a little dress I'm rocking. But if I could...

If I could, I would break into song and dance. All Glee status. With this little Lily Allen ditty:

How Mommies Do It

Today's post is brought to you
by the letter 'E'

So how do mommies do it?

Get your minds out of the gutter, this is not about how we moms get down in the boudoir, it's about how we express ourselves.

Now I'm not going to lie, I occasionally curse in front of my son. He's 1 and a half and doesn't yet really talk, so I don't really feel too guilty. However, my years as a preschool teacher have been getting me prepared, I don't ever curse at work. So how do we mom's try to shield our children from our potty mouths?

Well there's a fair amount of spelling "Eff U", comes to mind. As does this old favorite "H-E-double hockey sticks". "He is such an A-S-S-H-O-L-E". You get my drift.

Also we change words for other words that are never as satisfying or even make sense. Fudge instead of Fuck. Shut the front door, instead of shut the fuck up. Silly instead of stupid or dumb, or  crazy (when did crazy become a bad word BTW). Shoot instead of Shit. Suddenly I'm drawing a blank, but you get it. (Feel free to add your own favorite/most used substitutes in the comments)

We're creative. We do what we have to do, and occasionally we fail.

Eff me it's hard!

Blood Orange Margaritas? Hell Yeah

My friend from Rarita Vanesita the Obnoxious Wall Flower brought me this tasty cocktail recipe, for a blood orange margarita. 

Blood Orange Margarita

1 1/2 measure Tequila reposada 

3/4 measure Cointreau 

1 measure blood orange juice

1/2 measure sour mix

1 orange twist

(optional)

Pour liquor into shaker, fill with ice, shake. Pour into a (salt or sugar rimmed) cocktail glass half filled with ice and add orange twist for garnish. Enjoy!

Because I am Mexican and eat delicious Mexican food often, I like to reserve Cinco De Mayo for nachos and margaritas. Preferably at home with friends and family. You all know I'm kind of a lush so friends and family are optional too.

This drink is ridiculously good. I mean ridiculously good. I was very sad not to have a new bottle of tequila handy and that I couldn't spend the day drinking my day away (I do still have to be a responsible mommy). I HIGHLY recommend this beverage for your next girls night, Mexican themed dinner party or afternoon spent by the pool.

Letter D

This post is brought to you by
the letter 'D'

I need some advice.

I know that it's perfectly normal for kids to be aggressive little dicks sometimes. They don't have the verbal skills or the life skills to deal with their frustrations. I get it. I do. I know how to deal with it when a kid is 2+ years old. With consistency, firmness, modeling words and behaviors, redirection and time outs.

But what do you do when it's a toddler with basically no words and an extremely short attention span?

 I've been doing a lot of reading, you know "experts" and all. I'm not trying to say that they're (the experts) a bunch a douche bags that don't know half as much as they think they do, but sometimes they don't. I'm gonna try some of the tips they're giving. With an open mind. I hope that we can crack this phase before it takes hold and my kid turns into a dickhead.

What I'm trying to ask is, what did you do when your child hit this stage? Did you beat it? How? What worked, what didn't? With biting, we just said no, firmly (with an unhappy tone) every time. Sometimes  putting our hands over his mouth gently and saying no quietly. It worked. He isn't a biter. 

Just because we got through that stage doesn't mean we're gonna sit by passively waiting for him "to grow out of it". That might never happen, and we are not raising a bully. So what do we do? 

Molotov

Today's post is brought to you
by the letter 'C'

Some of you may know that I am bilingual. Spanish is my first language. I am still fluent and I  would say that I am very comfortable talking to most people in either language. But when something happens and expletives are the only way I want to express myself, it is always in English. 

I'm not comfortable cursing in Spanish, and I never have been. 

I never really tried it growing up, and it just feels unnatural. 

There are so many great words too. My favorite expression I think is Chinga tu Madre, it's basically Motherfucker. Literally translated though it's Fuck your mother. I have never found a reason to use it. The phrase has never really crossed my lips in anger or in jest.

But I have sung it.

"Normal" Phase

This weeks topic is about non-traditional parenting choices, what do you do that's "unusual"? Jenn asked.

Animal is a year and a half old, at this stage I don't really think I do anything that is "unusual".

When he was a baby there were a few things. Like his crib was in our room until 10 months, I exclusively breastfed till six months, I made my son's baby food (using only organic produce for a long time). I gave him peanut butter on his first birthday and eggs just before he turned 1. Except for tasting some fresh fruit juice from Sweet Tomato, he only drinks milk (mine and organic cow milk) and water. We're self weaning (is that unusual?), but we're almost done. My bodies still making milk, but he nurses a total of 5 to 20 minutes a day. We're almost done there. I tried not to let him watch TV, but we all know I failed there.

I would say that we are currently very traditional. So he can't drink soda or juice. That's totally normal. He watches a little TV, normal again. He eats pretty healthy and we make sure he gets a chance to be active and the opportunity to rest (even if that means our life revolves around his nap schedule) that's what parents do. He's not allowed to go to strip clubs. He can't hang out on the corner getting smashed and smoking pot. And absolutely no bitches over after bedtime.

Even though his daddy and I don't get flu shots and tend to believe in natural remedies before a prescription, our son's vaccinations are up to date and complete and will remain so. We will give him over the counter drugs when needed and be at every well baby visit. Normal again, right?

I foresee that it will be a few years before our unusual methods emerge.

I really wanted to home school, but I haven't finished school, and we can't afford for me to stay home.

So, when Animal starts school, the hubby and I plan to enhance his education with some field trips, home lessons, debates and our own reading material. I don't know that teachers will appreciate our public education plus plan. And I don't care.

I don't want to lie to my son, and while there are some subjects where I will have little to add (think math), there are other subjects like social studies, art, physical education, English (not grammar or spelling obviously) and science (think life/biology) where I think the hubby and I will have a lot to contribute.

When he starts learning about the missions, we're gonna take him to the same mission his school will take him to, but we'll be sure to include the mass "Indian" graveyard, and to discuss the Catholic church's roll in the genocide of the native people.

When he studies the Mexican/American war and the treaty of Guadalupe, we'll talk about it from both perspectives.

We'll provide yoga, and other physical activity at home. When he's old enough I'm going to take him on family fun runs and with me in the mornings so we can pound the pavement together.

We'll go to art museums, poetry readings, protest, concerts, the ballet, and provide creative outlets.

We want Animal to be curious, to question everything, to think. Both the hubby and I think those are invaluable skills. When he wants something we don't agree on, we'll ask him to convince us. With an essay.

It's hard to say all we'll do, because those times aren't here yet.

We don't know what curve balls life will throw us. What things we'll add, and what will be omitted.

Whatever our methods, they'll be the norm in our home. I'm looking forward to it.


Click the TT button to read more or join in.
 Today's letter is B.

Am I...

an Asshole?

Sometimes.

To kick of the ABC's of Swearing challenge I was thinking of posting The Top 5 Assholes I love to hate. Then I thought you know, I can be a real asshole, sometimes. It would be dishonest to say otherwise. I don't really like to admit it, and that's half the problem right there.

When I get called out on some mistake I make, some selfish shit I do, or I am criticized for any reason, I tend to get defensive. I try to defend myself. Sometimes that means I'm a real asshole. If you don't believe me I don't know why you wouldn't ask the hubby.

Without further ado,

The Top 5 Assholes I love to hate

5. Racist. They're everywhere. It sucks.  I'm gonna share another deep dark secret with you all, one I keep buried way down deep. There was this moment immediately after Animal was born, when I breathed a sigh of relief because he is light skinned like his father, and I very sadly but honestly belief it will save him, just a little from the ugliness that is racism. Not that much, he will after all be our son and we will raise him to be proud of his heritage.





4. Westboro Baptist Church. It's self explanatory right? No one's waiting for me to elaborate on this one, are they? You're at the wrong blog if you think this needs an explanation. Good day.

I couldn't bare to post one  of the
types of posters held outside my
local Planned Parenthood

3. Pro Life Protesters. Notice I didn't say Pro lifers, everyone has a right to their own opinions, but standing outside of women's clinics harassing women who may or may not be there for abortions is ridiculous. They hold up disgusting signs. Badgering anyone who comes near the doors. Before I had health insurance I would go there for birth control and pap smears and I hated walking past these lunatics. Also as a kid I would ride city transit and have to explain to my siblings what the fuck was on those disgusting posters. So thanks assholes, I don't think I as a teen should have had to explain to my nine and twelve year old siblings what they were looking at.







2. Gay bashers. Or anyone that thinks that marriage equality/gay rights is not a civil rights issue. I can't tell you as a woman and as a "minority" how angry I get that everyone that is not white or a man is not 100% on board with this issue. We should be in the streets (or at least at the polling stations) about this. It makes me so angry. I am however hopeful, that my son wont live in a place that makes some people second class citizens. I believe it's gonna happen and hopefully with the supreme court hearing DOMA and prop 8 cases it will happen soon.

Finally, the king of all Assholes

1. Sex Offenders. Also self explanatory. Fuck these people.

This is the scariest map ever.