What I learned this week…

1. It’d be great if my baby would stop getting into the trash. And the cat food. And possibly the refrigerator. That’s all I ask.
2. I realized recently that every single other person in my home thinks bodily functions are fascinating and farts are amusing. It’s not that I’m above it. I just really don’t think it’s funny.
3. You know what I do think is funny? This: at 12pm I go to class to learn how to teach grammar to non-native English speakers. Almost immediately after, I go to another class where we discuss how it’s unnecessary to teach grammar to non-native English speakers.  Graduate school, yay.
4. Homeschooling is going well. And by “well,” I mean “not as bad as it could be were my son a sociopath and I a crackhead.” Pretty much everything I planned is not working and the toddler is posing an unexpected difficulty considering she suddenly and randomly abandoned the morning nap she’s been taking since birth, which is, incidentally, the only time I have each day to really focus on just teaching Rocket – because I can’t do it in the afternoons because I have my own school and evidently the child’s brain loses its ability to do schoolwork after 11am. (Now, students, that’s what we call a “run-on sentence.” They’re terrible. Never use them.)
5. I’m hoping it’s a transitional thing and it’ll smooth out. You know. Someday.
6. And I’ll grow okay with the fact that my son is 6 and doesn’t want to read. End of story. (Ha. Ha. Ha.)
7. So check this out. If we put the cat food on the kitchen floor where it belongs, the baby eats it. If we put the food on the kitchen table, the cat thinks she’s allowed on the kitchen table (sound reasoning there), and consequently LIVES up there, eating the food we should put away after meals but don’t. BUT if we put the food anywhere else in the house, the cat won’t get fed because I’ll forget about it. There’s some real complicated shit in my life.
8.  My baby spent a good portion of the weekend eating dirt. At one point I actually heard myself say (to somebody expressing some rendition of concern regarding said dirt-eating): “No it’s cool. It’s clean dirt.” Yep, I’m there.
9. Sometimes I see my husband. That’s nice.
10. I read an article recently about how parents shouldn’t use sarcasm around their kids because it causes “smart-alecky” kids. I think that is great advice and I’ll be rebuilding my sense of humor as soon as I get a free moment.

Have a great week, people. And look at this. We did a science experiment together and it was freaking perfect and I felt like a good mom and homeschooler. Yeah, that happened once. Once.

1. Rocket makes an excellent 6-year-old.
2. Is it wrong that I kinda like it when Rocket gets overtired and irrational and cranky, because he acts all babyish and cuddly and for once sits on my lap without squirming?
3. (Yes, Janelle, that’s probably wrong).
4. We bought Ava a cell phone because we keep forgetting her on early release day. I wish these things weren’t true. I do.
5. We’re having a hard time explaining to her that it’s not a real cell phone, though perhaps it resembles one. Rather, it is a parent/grandparent connection device, and that is all. No internet. No phone numbers of friends. No use whatsoever other than to call the mother or father to let them know you’re waiting for their sorry asses. Again.
6. You know what’s an awkward conversation? Trying to explain to the nanny (in Spanish no less) that unless she’s near death she really just needs to show up and watch the kids and, no, I don’t really care about germs, or whether she’s hopped up on DayQuil, or if the kids are plugged into the television for 4 hours…I just need her here.
7. So we went to the mall yesterday. It was fun because I was with my family (including my brother & his family, who I adore and it’s a dream having them around – seriously, like heaven). It was not fun because I was with everybody else’s families (you know, everyday people at the mall), which is entertaining at best, though more often, just painful. And can we talk for a moment about the music most of those clothing stores play? That pounding wanna-be techno/pop crap – these idiot chicks with high-pitched whiney voices chanting redundant lines about scoring rich men and displaying their large asses? Even if the clothing itself was something other than over-priced, poorly made garments, made in China with synthetic fibers, I wouldn’t enter their doors anyway, on account of that sound. Holy shit I sound like an old person.
8. Okay but don’t get me wrong. I am not some sort of clothing snob. I’m not even a clothing critic. I’m so fashion lame I’m barely allowed to have an opinion on clothing. I just don’t like paying money for crap. I’d rather pay a little more and get half the items. And, I like cotton. And I hate annoying pop music – the commercialization of it all – the shoveling of shit into people’s hands at ridiculous prices because the consumer population is brainwashed into thinking they MUST HAVE THIS ITEM. The end.
9. Speaking of snobs, I read a blog post about this woman who rejected all the women in a local mother’s group (and wrote a whole blog post smashing them ) because they didn’t put on make-up or dress nicely (in her opinion) to an outing at an apple orchard. At an apple orchard (yes, clearly this woman has some misguided notions of appropriate event-attire). And though I see idiot all the time, this was my first real exposure to such overt superficiality and meanness. Most people communicate their sense of superiority in underhanded, subtle ways. She pretty much just announced (and though I’m paraphrasing, the message was clear): “I’m better than them because I’m better looking, wear make-up, and have fashion sense. They have ‘let themselves go’ (direct quote), and therefore, are not worth my time.”  And there were comments in support of this snobbery. Friends, these are the evil popular girls in high school, only grown up and writing blogs. It’s unreal. She was awful. I hate that crap. How stunning that there are actual grown-ups who define people (and dismiss them) due to the way they look, only and completely.
10. You know who I don’t hate? You people. I was straight terrified to publish that letter to Rocket. I bawled writing the whole thing and after I did, I felt this incredible relief, but it felt like a journal entry, not something you publish on the internet. But I try not to make decisions based on fear, so I said “fuck it” and I hit publish, getting ready for comments of disdain, or, worse yet, SILENCE. But what did I get? A whole shitload of awesome. Thank you thank you.

And thanks for voting for me during that contest. I don’t really have a chance in hell of winning (since I’m all small-time and stuff), but whatevs, it means a lot to even be nominated, let alone have a few people vote for me, which I know you did.

Have a great week, people. And check out Rocket on his new bike (right before he crashed into a bush):

1. I’ve been contemplating our neighborhood a bit. It’s an interesting place. There is an alarmingly high number of individuals in the immediate vicinity who still have their Christmas lights up.
2. There is one house on our street featuring boarded-up windows and foil accents. I’m guessing tweaker.
3. There is another house with broken glass in the garage door and a “lawn” that is yellow, serving primarily as an overflow parking area.
4. My neighbor to the left sits in his garage all day drinking Budweiser and smoking cigarettes. When he reaches a healthy buzz, he does everybody’s yard work.
5. On the plus side, our lawn looks freaking incredible.
6. And, oddly, despite the weirdness, I kinda dig this place.
7. Anyway, I’m in so deep I’ve forgotten what the surface looks like. Is there a surface? Was there ever a surface? I feel I’m at complete capacity and I haven’t even begun “officially” homeschooling the 5-year-old.
8. Speaking of the 5-year-old, next week the 5-year-old will become a 6-year-old, which sounds so much older than 5, my heart is breaking a little. I don’t know why exactly, except that he is still in that precious priceless glorious stage of childhood – where there is happiness – pure undisturbed happiness – and there is no fear and there is no worry and there is no self-consciousness and he is free. And I want him to stay there. I don’t want the world to creep in and fuck him up, making him doubt and reason and act like a “grown up.” But it will. Just as it has with Ava. And then I will only see my Rocket in glimpses – my boy in pockets, pockets of blue mohawks and breakdancing and cuddles and freckles and tears and Legos and racecar games and rolling on the floor in hysterics. Stop making me talk about this. I’m starting to cry.
9. Imagine if the world were constructed in such a way that we stayed like 5-year-olds for all our lives – not mentally , but spiritually – our souls –free and open and ready. For everything. For nothing. For life.
10. When I see those pockets in Ava – at 9 years old – I stop what I’m doing entirely and watch. Soak it in. Let her be a child no matter what it entails. And then, I try to join her. Because it’s in me too. Just obstructed by the bullshit storyline of “adulthood.” What is it anyway? A bunch of constructions, a bunch of expectations, a bunch of crap that won’t matter when I’m on my deathbed. Screw it. I’d rather act like a 5-year-old. They are happier than most adults I know anyway.
11. In other news, my dogs may kill each other. I think they’re still trying to figure out who wears the pants in the relationship. Dumbasses keep beating each other up. I figure if they don’t kill each other in the process, at some point they’ll figure out who’s the alpha and just give up the fight. I have no time to figure out dog issues. I’m having enough trouble with those of the human variety.

Anyway, I love you people. Please keep voting for me. By the way, I recently came across this photo of Rocket at the Further festival in June. Is it possible for anything to be more perfect?

1. I don’t know what happened with that whole naked seaweed thing. Kind of a low point really, but no worries, I’ve got something that’ll totally cheer us up: the best thing to do when somebody flips you off on the road is to smile a big smile and give them a joyful “hang loose” sign. Fucker will FLIP in anger. Sweetest retaliatory moment ever.
2. We spent the weekend in Santa Cruz, took the kids to the Boardwalk on Saturday. This trip was Ava’s birthday present. Her 9^th birthday present. Her 9^th birthday that was LAST NOVEMBER. You see? I ain’t jokin’ about that bad mothering thing. Nobody really believes me but I am not lying.
3. I don’t understand why we don’t live in one of those Northern California coastal towns. Any one will do: Santa Cruz, Capitola, Monterey, Half Moon Bay. I ain’t picky.
4. Oh right. Because we have no money.
5. Speaking of no money, Monday was my last day of employment. That’s nice. Sort of. Except I spent all week trying to make up for months and months of house-cleaning neglectfulness and failing miserably. And I spent all week being reminded of why I’m not a SAHM (for those of you who don’t go on parenting chatboards, SAHM = stay-at-home mom).  I’m afraid.
6. Tomorrow is my first day back at grad school. I’m not afraid. Mainly because the first day always consists of a lame, mindless activity I will never ever understand as long as I live: reading the syllabus with the professor. Do you a see a problem there? We’re in graduate school (ENGLISH graduate school no less) and YET we need to be READ THE SYLLABUS by the professor. Because we can’t do it ourselves? Because analyzing complex theory is within reasonable expectations but comprehending a semester-long schedule? Out of the question people! I must read it TO YOU. And I will go over it and reiterate all the subtle nuances like “plagiarism is bad” and “two tardies equal an absence.” I’m not sure, but I suspect that particular activity is a result of professors spending way too much damn time making that syllabus and, like a small child who can’t wait to show off his latest artistic creation, just can’t stop themselves from sharing the joy of their well-thought-out, carefully planned, eclectic line-up of events. Or, they don’t know what the hell else to do with us on the first day.
7. At the Boardwalk the Santa Cruz police had a display with a motorcycle kids could climb on. We saw it and excitedly asked Rocket if he wanted to get on it. He looked over, thought about it for maybe 2 seconds and said “nah.” And I realized my little guy is too big for that kinda thing now and my heart kinda fell to my gut and I’m telling you people right now this is not going to go well. My baby boy growing up, exiting his wild abandon, ceasing to run in insane freedom on the beach, caring what people think, sensing his separateness, restraining his boyish mania. I can’t take it friends. This is clearly another blog post.
8. Okay I’m not over the syllabus thing. The weirdest thing is that most of the class seems RIVETED by the whole “let’s read the syllabus together” activity, which of course places me in my usual position of “what the hell are you people thinking?” and “Am I the only one who thinks this shit is ridiculous?”
9. Come to think of it, that’s how I go through most of my life. I know now that this phenomena is a result of one of two things: either almost the entire fucking outside world is unconditionally batshit crazy, or I’ve totally missed the boat. Jury’s still out. But I prefer the former, for obvious reasons.
10. My sister-in-law recently pointed out that I haven’t posted pictures in a really long time. She’s right. And it’s because I’m lazy. So to counteract my slothful tendencies, I give you the following. Aren’t they freaking adorable? (By the way, if you click on the photo you’ll get a bigger version. You know, so you can REALLY get all up in our business. Or something.)

Oh, and PLEASE vote for me? Please please please? I doubt there’s any way in hell I’ll win (there are some pretty popular blogs nominated) but hey, perhaps the no-namer will win this one. Either way, friends, thanks being here. You are the wind beneath my wings. (That made me LOL and my husband said “are you cracking yourself up again?” and I said “yes” and he mumbled something about fools. Jackass men. They don’t get it.)

You see this running dancing jumping behavior? It needs to stay people. STAY.

looking stoic. love those cheeks.

Tattooed man with baby in baby carrier = the way things oughta be.