Part Two: Someone Slap An Unaccompanied Minor Sticker On This Bitch.

Part Two: Someone Slap An Unaccompanied Minor Sticker On This Bitch.

Click to read Part One: And Then She Began To Whistle. _ _ _ Where were we? Oh, yeah. My kids began melting and quickly, convinced we were going to miss Christmas and that it was all my fault. Naturally my response was a … Continue reading

This Old New House.

I woke up around nine on Thanksgiving morning and, but for the clink clink clink of the fan and my dog licking her butt, the house was painfully silent. Nothing was as it should be. I made myself a cup of coffee, grabbed my … Continue reading

Don’t Be Denied.

Music is a huge part of our life.

No, we aren’t a family of lifelong musicians.

I can barely play chopsticks on the piano.

When I was little, my piano teacher diagnosed me with an untreatable, genetic case of too-tiny-hands and too-little-talent. This is also probably not the best combo if you’re looking to get into the porn industry.

My husband can jam, though. He started guitar lessons several years ago, and has since picked up the harmonica, as well.

I’m basically married to Bob Dylan.

Really, though, our main thing is listening to lots of music, hitting up live shows, and dancing like the dorks we are.

I do believe that music is the universal language, and that we’re born drawn to the beats.

I remember watching Footloose a couple of centuries ago and being so confused about the whole Jesus hates dancing thing, because music is in all of us…it’s natural. There’s no better example of this than witnessing a tiny baby shake what his mama gave him when someone drops that funky bassline.

We listen to music everyday in our house. We have dance parties, sing loudly, and dance like crazy.

It used to be so simple. We’d put a song on and the kids would dance.

But, now that Luca’s four, he’s really starting to listen to the songs I play, and ask about their lyrics.

(No more 2 Live Crew for us.)

Like, the other day on the way to school, I played a Neil Young

As the song ended, Luca chimed in from the backseat, “What’s that guy talking about?”

Oh, how I love this song, with it’s meaningful, powerful, and goose-bumpy message. And, while 2 Live Crew would have been much easier to explain, I tried my best.

“Okay, honey. The song says, to me, that you should never back down or give up on your dreams. Always be who you are, because you can do anything…even if others try to convince you that you can’t. Does that make sense? So, I guess what I’m saying is that don’t be denied means never taking no for an answer, and living your life the way you want it, as long as you don’t step on anyone else along the way, of course. Am I confusing you? This is a hard one for me to explain.

No, mommy. I understand. When you tell me no more candy, it means I should still have candy.

I’m currently rethinking the 2 Live Crew ban.

* * *

When I was a young boy
My mama said to me
Your daddy’s leavin’ home today
I think he’s gone to stay
We packed up all our bags
And drove out to Winnipeg

When we got to Winnipeg
I checked in to school
I wore white bucks on my feet
When I learned the golden rule
The punches came fast and hard
Lying on my back in the school yard

Don’t be denied, don’t be denied
Don’t be denied, don’t be denied
Don’t be denied, don’t be denied

Well pretty soon I met a friend
He played guitar
We used to sit on the steps at school
And dream of being stars
We started a band
We played all night

Don’t be denied, don’t be denied
Don’t be denied, don’t be denied
Don’t be denied, don’t be denied

Oh Canada
We played all night
I really hate to leave you now
But to stay just wouldn’t be right
Down in Hollywood
We played so good

The businessmen crowded around
They came to hear the golden sound
There we were on the Sunset Strip
Playing our songs for the highest bid
We played all night
The price was right

Don’t be denied, don’t be denied
Don’t be denied, don’t be denied
Don’t be denied, don’t be denied

Well, all that glitters isn’t gold
I know you’ve heard that story told
And I’m a pauper in a naked disguise
A millionaire through a business man’s eyes
Oh friend of mine
Don’t be denied

 * * *

What’s Mine Is (Not) Always Yours.

A conversation with Luca, four years old.

~ ~ ~

Luca: Mommy, where are those muffins you bought me?

Me: Hmm, I have no idea, baby. I’ll buy you more later.

Three Hours Later:

Luca: *holding up an empty muffin bag he found stashed under my bedside table*    MOMMY. WHAT IS THIS? WHO ATE MY MUFFINS?

Me: *Frozen with fear* Ummm, I did baby, last night after you went to bed. I’m so sorry. I’ll go get you new ones.

Luca: That’s a very mean thing to do, mommy.

Me: Luca, we all live here, and our food is for all of us.

Luca: Then why did you get so mad at daddy for eating your enchiladas the other day?

~ ~ ~

Fucking kids, man.

On Letting Your Children Know All of You.

A few weeks ago, I posted this on Facebook.

Warning: Crude language ahead.

*Earmuffs*

Obviously, there was some tongue and cheek there.

But, it brought up an interesting, and respectful, discussion on the things we choose to put on the internet, for all to see, and how these things affect our children. And, more importantly, it made me think about how we choose to present ourselves to our children.

How much of us do we let them see?

Are we real people to them, or just mom and dad?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friend: I hate that word and adore you. I would honestly like to know when and at what age you think it is appropriate for your precious sons can start saying this word? Like I said … I love and adore you, but this profanity is not what I prefer to use on a daily basis. Let me know your thoughts.

ME: Hmm. interesting question. When they are older, I don’t have a specific age, I guess it’s different for everyone and their own maturity level, if they are respectful to others and aren’t all like, “FUCK YOU MAM I ASKED FOR FRIES WITH MY BURGER NOT FRUIT,” THAT would be unacceptable to me. But, if they stub their toe in our house and mumble “god damn it” or “fuck that hurt,” I wouldn’t be too outraged or upset. To me, it’s just a word. On the other hand, if they call someone STUPID or DUMB, I would be IRATE. I would rather them say motherfucker on a daily basis than use those types of words. Do I make any sense? HA (Not a trick question).

Friend: My oldest is in college and my youngest is a sophomore in high school. Yes..they have heard that word ten fold. They follow me ( as I do them) on all social medias. I just prefer not to say it because I think it is beyond degrading. I just don’t think it is appropriate to use and/or I don’t like to let them see their mom say it over and over again. My opinion, yes. Just curious what you will do when Leo and Luca are on social media. I’m sure things will be totally different then. Maybe it will be no big deal, but I still feel this word is extremely offensive. Please respect my opinion as I do yours.

ME: Of course I respect your opinion! And, obviously, I’m sure it doesn’t need to be said, that I never cuss in front of my boys, minus the occasional SHIT! if a car nearly wrecks into me or something. And, funny, because I just got done saying to my husband that there is not one single thing on my blog that I wouldn’t want my boys to read. Again, to me, it’s simply a word that someone made up. I am so much more fearful of them saying something like “that’s retarded!” or “that’s so gay!” or the other F word that I DO consider awful and offensive..fag. Ugh. It pained me to even type it. So, if I hear my boys as teens, playing basketball outside and one yelled “I just dunked in your fucking face, dude,” I wouldn’t make an issue of it, UNLESS it was used directly like “F you!!” But, if I heard them say, “Quit being such a fag!” or “That’s so retarded, man,” you better believe I would drag them inside by their ears and let them have it! To me, it seems so many people don’t find these words degrading, when they are so much worse than actual “bad” words. My opinion, of course! Good discussion! xo

Friend: You know I love you and think you are insanely talent and creative when it comes to writing. I’m just thinking once you’ve put it out there…it’s out there… and you should have no regrets. I may be old school, but it’s something I don’t want my kids to be able to look back up and see. Just my opinion. Love ya girl!!!

ME: Maybe it IS a generational thing! But, every single thing I have ever written on my blog makes me proud of myself and I stand by it 110%. If, god forbid, I am taken too soon from my boys, they’ll be able to read my words and know that I am a REAL person with REAL flaws, not this strange sparkly version of ourselves we all too often portray to our kids. They will read about how depressed I was when I was pregnant and how I didn’t want to be pregnant and wanted to die or have a miscarriage, but that after seeing their faces I would have done it again in a HEARTBEAT. They will know I had an eating disorder for ten years and that I kicked it’s ass. They will see that I talk about all of this without an ounce of shame and and that it’s doesn’t mean they are weak when they have their own struggles, and they will. It just means they are beautifully flawed like the rest of us. They will know how much I value other people and their feelings and how much I hate discrimination and inequality. They will know I think being compassionate to others, even if they are different, and helping them when they need it is SO, SO important in life. And, then they’ll say, “Man, mom was a potty mouth, huh, dad?” And I am. And that’s just another part of me. If you ask any single one of my friends or family or even my OBGYN, they will tell you that they way I talk on here and on my blog, is exactly how I talk in real life. Of course, I have manners and know when NOT to open my sailor mouth, but this is who I am…good or bad. And, if reading me say “Man, that guy fighting against gay rights is a fucking asshole,” is the worst of it? I am so, SO happy with that.  And, I totally respect your opinion and totally adore you. xoxo

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I want my children to know me…to know all of me…not just bits and pieces.

I want them to know about the good, and the not so good times in my life, my mistakes and my triumphs, and how I dealt with it all.

How much of yourselves do you share with your kids? Do you want them to know all of you? Or just the politically correct version of you?