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'

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!

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.


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 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.