Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Things That Piss Me Off Tuesday - the all the things edition

Waves. I haven't been writing very often. In fact, I write so rarely anymore that it seems like every post opens up with some apology for the fact that I haven't been writing, some statement of the obvious.

I don't write often.

It is what it is.

I'm busy (and no, this isn't some glorification of busy, just a statement of fact).

I'm not in the mood to deal with comments most of the time either, so there's that. Plus, I've been doing more work and advocacy in the real world, focusing less on the online world lately. Between that, all the assorted kid stuff, working, husband working, husband in school, Halloween costume building and home improvement projects, I just don't have a whole lot of opportunity to type.

I'm making myself do it today.

It just so happens to be a Tuesday, which ends up being the right day for a rant or 7 anyway.

So, let's just do it.

Also. Before I start the actual post, I should let you know that I changed my bio on Facebook a while back now. It reads, "Fueled by coffee and rage." It's also accurate.


The Fresh Hell of the Day
Remember when you could wake up in the morning and not feel like you had to check Twitter immediately upon waking to find out if our great and powerful leader was picking a fight with a new country today? Remember that?

Those were the days.

It is to the point anymore, and has been for months and months now, where every single damn day brings some awful news. The great and powerful leader (I will not use his name here, nor will you EVER catch me referring to him by the title of the position he currently occupies) seems to bring a fresh version of hell every day. Is it something one of his trusted advisers did? Is it one of his kids now declining Secret Service protection? Is it a Twitter pissing match? Is it a string of incoherent words about things and stuff that makes no sense and is impossible to follow with reasons because he lacks any ability to be articulate in any form? (That sentence was too long and I tried to make it as awful as something he'd say, but he would never be able to use the word "articulate" in a sentence, so I'm going to stop trying.)

Is one of the people he appointed rolling back protections for assault victims today? Is it time to push privatization of some industry that has proven how terrible it is at self regulation? Are we talking about that fucking wall again? Which marginalized group is the target today, and what are they being tossed under the bus as a distraction for this time?

I'm fatigued. I'm drained. I've been trying to do everything I can to reassure people in targeted groups that I will fight for them, that I will protect them.

It's become glaringly obvious that those with the power and ability to remove this monster from office have no desire to, and that they won't even bother trying until and unless he poses some existential threat to them. So, buckle up, everyone. Those with the power and ability to do something are, for the most part, among the most privileged people in this country. Rich, white, Christian, cishet men. It'll be a while yet before they feel threatened about anything.

Since we can't count on them, we've got to be willing to fight on the ground. Show up for your community members. Fight for your neighbors. Attend those city council meetings and school board meetings and hearings and campaign events. Get involved in whatever capacity you can. Speak out. Take bystander training. Educate yourself. Study accurate history, because Thor knows we weren't taught it in school. Listen to those who are being marginalized. Believe people who tell you when they are harmed.

We Have To Talk About Scout
Deep breath.

We have to talk about Scout. Scout Schultz was a student at Georgia Tech. Scout was a nonbinary person using they/them pronouns, and had been instrumental in the creation of an LGBTQ+ support organization on the campus. Scout also struggled with mental health issues, and had called the police over the weekend, reporting a suspicious person. They left three suicide notes.

The campus police arrived to find them in a mental breakdown, screaming, "Shoot me!".

And the police did.

Scout died shortly after being shot in the chest.

The campus police, untrained in recognizing and diffusing mental health calls, were not armed with any non-lethal alternatives.

We need to talk about this, for so many reasons.

One, police need to be trained in the recognition of when someone is a suspect in a crime or a threat to others, and when that person is having a mental health crisis.

Two, this is a college campus, full of adolescents and young adults, and the campus police weren't carrying non-lethal options. Bullets or nothing.

Three, the mental health statistics for the LGBTQ+ community are deeply and profoundly troubling, all the more so in light of this particular case. I will link some information here. Please read and understand how at risk this community is. Please. I beg you. These numbers I am sharing here are local to our state, but not at all unique. 

This is why the rhetoric of this administration is so fucking heartless and dangerous. I told someone today that I don't even want to talk about the amount of time I have spent trying to convince LGBTQ+ teenagers that the entire country doesn't hate them.

HELP ME FIX THIS. PLEASE.

While we're at it....
You don't get to determine what gender someone else occupies.
You don't get to decide whether they actually identify with the proper gender.
You don't get to tell them which pronouns are appropriate.
You don't get to tell someone that their orientation is just a phase.

If you woke up this morning inhabiting a body and a gender that fits your identity, if you woke up this morning attracted to people of the so-called opposite gender from yours, take a moment to recognize all the levels of privilege you're occupying from those two facts alone.

If you are a cishet individual and don't understand those with differing identities or orientations, that's 100% on you. It is your responsibility to do the work, not the role of the person you're de-legitimizing by asking for more information before you accept who they are and who they are attracted to.

In a larger scope, think about how burdensome it is to demand that a marginalized person from any marginalized group justify their existence, explain how they've been harmed, convince you that they are entitled to equal protections under the law.  Think about having to do that every single day.

Preschooler Socialization
Shifting gears, I wrote a small blurb on a picture yesterday about how I am not designed for parenting preschoolers. I've got a lot of miles on me parenting preschoolers, but I'm not good at it. I loathe it, in fact. I hate playgroups and story time. I hate forcing myself to make small talk with strangers simply because our kids are in the same age range. I hate that I need to do this in order to adequately socialize my kid.

I'm old now. I'm the old mom. I've been the young mom, the first time mom, the anxious mom not sure what to expect. I've done the whole thing where you make friends and hope your kids remain friends forever only to watch all of those relationships disintegrate over the years anyway. I've been shunned from groups for having too many kids. I've been shunned from groups for having kids that were the wrong ages for the group. (true story)

Last week, I tortured myself more than once in the name of socialization. Took the preschooler to a huge playgroup thing with tons of kids and it was basically like my worst nightmare...but I did the thing where I smiled and pretended I didn't hate it. The best part was when a kid shoved mine over a toy and his mom came running over to tell him that he needed to share the toy with my son because my son, "wasn't as fast as he was". Ummmm. No.

This is why I hate playgroups. People justifying the shitty behavior of their kids, usually because it is a direct reflection of how they're being raised. My kid can be an asshole, sure...but he can share.

Why do we do this? Whyyyyyyyyyyy.

Emmy's
I didn't watch them, so I don't have a whole lot of commentary here but there is one thing I need to mention.

Sean Spicer, you don't get to magically redeem yourself. NO YOU DO NOT.

For fuck's sake, you were paid to lie to the public for months, had tantrums on television, did the bidding of our great and powerful leader. Don't think for one second that we are all going to forget your part in this clusterfuck of an administration because you came out pushing a rolling podium  while laughing at yourself. No.

No damn way.

Monday, September 18, 2017

To the one determined to fix everything...

Hey sweetheart. It's actually a few days past your birthday, but I didn't get a chance to do this before it came...probably due at least in part to the fact that I'm spending an hour a day just trying to get you to take a nap these days.



You don't want to go to sleep. Something exciting might happen and you might miss it, which is unacceptable. "No nigh night". On repeat. Every day.

You're three now. You tell me all the time that you are a big boy, not a baby, but the way you are loved on and spoiled by everyone else in the house tells me that you're going to stay the baby forever whether you want to or not, so you might as well enjoy it.




Your current obsession, and by obsession I truly mean OBSESSION, is tools. All the tools. With a tool belt and a tool box and a fix-it hat and a work bench. They have to go with you everywhere you go, just in case something needs to be fixed. You love Bob the Builder, you love Handy Manny. You even adore those house renovation shows your sister forces you to watch. Anything with a tool.

When we were talking about your birthday, you naturally wanted a fix-it birthday....except that apparently not enough other kids your age are as enamored with this stuff as you are, because those plates and napkins just don't exist outside of online orders. So, I ended up having to make you a cake which wasn't the worst thing in the world. It wasn't so much a cake as it was a construction zone.

I'm not even sure you ate any cake because you were so busy digging in it.



Busy. That's a good word for you.

Systematically testing the fences for weaknesses, you can jump the gates and be out the door in mere seconds. You are nearly inconsolable every day when all your people leave in the morning, and ecstatic when they come home. You have already learned which sister is the fun sister and which sister is the one who will console you and give you whatever you want. You know which brother will sit and watch movies with you and which one will play in the dirt. You know that if you ask all of them, they'll all drop whatever they are doing and play hide and seek with you.

You've got them wrapped around your little finger, dude.



You moved rooms this summer, sharing with one of your big brothers now. You gave up the crib too, sleeping (I use the term loosely, of course) in the fire truck bed that once belonged to him. The fire truck bed that is a duplicate of the one your oldest brother had when he was your age.

(Your mom is far more sentimental than she lets on...)



You started learning some of your letters, love cutting paper even if it means you have to stick your tongue all the way out. You hated story time the first few times we went, telling me that the library was full of "scary kids", but you've adjusted to how the whole thing works. You even (gasp) touched the parachute at parachute time today and then talked and talked and talked about the parachute when you were supposed to be sleeping.



You're silly, on purpose. You already tell jokes, which is honestly a little scary. You pick up all of our phrases and mannerisms, the funniest of which is how you have to adjust your hat exactly like your Dad does. He didn't even realize that he does it as often as he does until you started mirroring him.

Then there is the standing leg crossing that has to happen all the time, just because you see us do it. Even when it means you fall over.



You are terrified, TERRIFIED, of any bug that flies right now, after being stung by a wasp in the head twice this summer. It's understandable, and also really cute when you freak out over a butterfly. You're slowly realizing they aren't trying to eat you, and I get the hesitation. I try not to laugh. Honest.

Your hair is still as our of control as it ever was, and will stay that way for as long as you have hair, thanks to the wonder of that double crowned head of yours. Now, you know that it's pointy and so you just tell people you have pointy hair whenever anyone comments on it. Which is hilarious.



You love getting muddy in the backyard and playing with the hose so much that your dad had to disconnect the valve on the back. Taking the hose off wasn't enough. You learned how to connect it. Five kids, and you're the first one we had to do that with. High five, man. Whenever he forgets, though, and leaves it connected, your spider sense tingles and within seconds you are out there, spraying the dog, your siblings, anyone who tries to wrestle the hose out of your tiny little hands.

Your eyebrows carry more expression in them than most people have in their entire bodies.



I have to get this done before you wake up since any amount of distraction on my part means that you've disassembled some part of the house. Or started eating ice cream out of the carton with a serving spoon. Again.

Sleep well, my little boy who insists he is a big boy and isn't a baby except for when he climbs up into my arms and rests his sweaty head on my chest. Recharge those batteries. Your brothers and sisters will be home soon and it's your turn to be "it".

Happy birthday, sweet boy.

Love,
Mama

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