Premature Intoxication

While this story is so sad and so pathetic, I have to say that the embarrassment is starting to wear off.  It may take a long time, but it is slowly going away.  Like faint tan lines that you still notice in January, or bits of that toe nail polish that is still there and you can’t even remember when you last painted your toes, or your husband’s hair line.  It is slowly fading.  What will not fade is my disappointment in myself.  That seems to grow.  

Let me set up the days preceding the event.  I wanted to celebrate turning 40 and did not want my husband or best friend J, to have to plan anything.  I did not want to put them through the trouble of organizing an... I am a control freak.  I thought it would be fun to get old and new friends together at an old friend’s bar.  His place is very casual, lots of fun and draws a diverse crowd.  I planned a “facebook event” and invited a wonderful group of people. 

In preparation, I tried to coordinate transportation for those who were traveling from an hour away.  I spoke to my friend who owns the bar about getting some sort of drink special and letting me purchase apps for my guests.  I agonized about whether I was being too tacky, throwing my OWN birthday party.  Ok I did not agonize, it was brought to my attention by a friend, and I thought about it for about 3 minutes.  I sent reminders on facebook.  I bought myself a really cute outfit, complete with platform wedges. I got a mani/pedi. I got my hair done.  My excitement grew.  Not only was I going to connect/reconnect with great friends. I was getting a night out, with NO responsibilities, No kids, no curfews, no driving, no worries!  Therein lies the problem.  It turns out I don’t know how to act when that scenario pans out.  

I have written other blogs here that have extolled my constant worrying. My monotonous daily life as a mother.  How I may lose my shit at times.  How I need sex.  SO when these kids obstacles are removed, I am a bit out of my element. It wasn’t that long ago I was single with no children.  The only thing I owned was my beat up car, my clothes and really, really cute shoes.  I would go out socially a lot.  In my late 20s, I never had a real problem with having a great time and still maintaining an outward appearance of having my shit together.  There were times that I over consumed, acted rowdy, made poor choices, BUT I was in my teens and 20s.  I did these irresponsible things when I had no real responsibilities.  Those days seem so vastly far away and my memories of those nights out, are vague at best.  

Now when I go out, there are usually, kid menus to consider, bed times to think about and potty runs to navigate.  If there is alcohol, there is a level stare between the Hub and myself that says, “Are you driving or am I?”  I am usually offering to drive.   So a night of potential, uninhibited, reckless, abandon is not what I am used to or apparently can be trusted with.  

I turned 40 on Thursday.  On Friday we meet up with my parents and my grandmother, who turned 92 that day.  We had a wonderful meal, good wine and the best part, the kids, went home with my parents!  YAY, they were staying with them for 2 nights!  I was giddy.  The Hub and I thoroughly enjoyed our alone time that evening.  As the Hub would say “I got your 50 shades right here!”  Too much? Sorry.   

Saturday was the day of the event.  Although there was only one other couple from my neighborhood going downtown with us, the Hub convinced me to get a limo.  I have been in a limo one other time in my life and that was my wedding day 11 years ago.  What a blast.  I was excited throughout the day.  I exercised. I only had 2 bowls of cereal and about 4 cups of coffee since I was planning on eating tons of fattening bar food all night and did not want to burst the seams of my new outfit. I got my hair done and put makeup on.  I don’t usually put on any more than eye liner, blush and mascara.  But, I bought eye shadow.  I was going for a “smokey” eye but kept looking like I was just in the ring with Rocky.  After many tries and quite a while with some practice, I got it right.  My outfit was exactly what I had searched for.  I looked good and felt even better.   Our friends from our neighborhood and the limo showed up at the same time.  I kept asking the Hub, ‘Do I need anything?  Did you check the doors?  Is Dog in her crate?  Is Cat fed?’ He looked at me an said, “Relax! Everything is taken care of!”  I scooted into the limo and here is where everything went wrong.  Terribly, terribly wrong.  

Champagne.  I have had glasses at weddings.  I have sipped on New Years Eve.  There was one time, on our honeymoon, on a vineyard in Italy, when we split a bottle of their sparkling wine.  Hub said I just giggled, and went to bed and awoke the next morning feeling nothing but hungry.   In the limo, the Hub opened one of three bottles of Champagne.  Here is what happened in my brain the rest of the night. (My brain looks like this and what actually came out of my mouth looks like this.)

‘Mmmm, champagne, pretty tasty.  Who knew?  Not bad at all.  I can’t wait to get some chicken wings, fries, ooh I hope they have potato skins with little bacon....ooohh, shrimp lejon.  That would be awesome.  Wow, this is almost like ginger ale.  Why are these glasses so skinny? Obviously not meant for people with noses like mine.  It is going down nice and easy! Oh there is another bottle, sure open it up.  It’s my birthday! 

“This is MY JAM!”   

‘Oh I look good!  My husband is so so funny.  OMG, my friends Katie and G, are soo so funny.  Well, I think I am the funniest!  This ride is AWESOME!  I am in a friggin LIMO!  Drinkin' Champagne!  WTF!  This is..... 

‘Sure we can open that last bottle.  I am feeling GREAT.”

I only had what?  Four glasses?  That can’t be bad, look how skinny these glasses are?  

“OH we are HERE!  WOOO HOOO, it’s my BIRTHDAY!”

‘There is Cousin Steph and her funny, funny boyfriend. And Cousin Jeff and his camera!  MY BEST FREIND J and A!  OH More great friends K and D!  

“OH thanks, a shot? OH my I haven’t had a shot in years, OK!  Sure you can buy me a drink!” 

‘What is it? I am just gonna sit here his lap.....woops I am sorry I spilled that, WOA, better stand. OMG it is my fb blogger friend! I AM SO excited to see... WOW she is tall and sooo pretty and look at her hubby!  Wow they are pretty people. I can’t believe they came.....I am so happy to see...... WOAHhhh, I don’t feel so good.  What did I just say to them?  Am I making sense?...... I shouldn't be talking.... bathroom..... must..... get to.... bathroom..... 

“OH Hi, yeah I will be right out.”

‘Pee, once I pee I will feel better.  OH I should not have sat down.  Maybe if I just shut my eyes for a minute......  UH Oh someone is knocking... I am in here, be right out.... why won’t words come out of my mouth.  Oh NO!  I am going to hurl!  NO no no no!  Don’t open mouth..... NO no no no no!  I can hear voices of my friends J and D and my good friend M.  When did she get here?  She is talking to my new blogger friend.  OH NO! please don’t let the blogger friend see me like this..... NOnononononononononononononnoooo!  I can’t be this drunk!  I just got here!  Good GOD, what the fuck was I thinking? Katie, is that you?  Are you ok, did I just kick you? HUB is in the Bathroom.  OH THANK SWEET JESUS!  HUB Get me out of here! No, I can’t talk.  Let me just shut my eyes!  Is there a back door! ....Thank God you are here. No I am not ok...... stop telling me to talk! I am gonna ........I am so sorry I just hurled on your shoes!  OH NO, GET everyone out of here.  Did they see me hurl? Can’t I wait until closing?  I will be fine right here!  I swear.  NO I don’t need to go to the hospital.  I did NOT pass out, I am just tired!  I am so so tired.  OK yes, let’s go outside, I can’t bear to see anyone! Where is the zipper on these shorts? Please just get me home.  GET ME HOME!  Wait, were is the cute belt for my shorts?  Is there puke on me?  Who put my hair in a scrunchy?  OH NO, on the way out.  Please don’t anyone see me.... EVERYONE FRIGGIN SEES ME! How can they NOT see me I am climbing into a huge white LIMO!  Ah Limo, nice cool..... so much more comfortable.... shut the door..... hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again’

That was it.  Fin.  I awoke in my bed, at 2am wearing underwear and my adorable new blouse.   I sat bolt upright and looked around.  I was completely sober and a bit nauseous.  NO!!!! I did NOT just miss my party!  OH MY GOD! I JUST MISSED MY PARTY!  I SUCK!  I started texting apologies.  I got on facebook and started messaging apologies.  OH NO Did I kick my friend Katie in the bathroom?  OH NO The blogger friend.  She never met me in person until NOW!  I will never hear from her again!  Who else was there?  Everything was so fuzzy. My memory was not working!  

It turns out that I missed seeing about 12-15 people who came to see me!  I felt mortified!  Luckily most of them were old friends.  Many started out at St. Alice Grade school together.  It was a reunion of sorts, since we don’t get together like we used to.  Well it was a reunion for them.   It turns out St. Alice alumni are tight.  They were kinder to me than they ought to have been.  There has even been talk of a “do-over.”   All my friends texted, messaged or called me to tell me that although it sucked that I did not get to hang out with everyone, not to sweat it.  My friend Jim was the one to point out, the fact that I am NOT a drinker is actually a good thing.  My Best Friend J told me she loved me.  My good friend M and her husband J who drove an hour and did not even get to hang out with me, still like me!  OH and my blogger friend , one of the best story tellers I have read, messaged me saying not to worry! She is still communicating with me!  (Btw - read her blog) Another couple has already set up a date for dinner. How amazing are these people?  I can’t even begin to thank them.  

I now feel akin to unfortunate guys, who will remain nameless, who “finish” before they start, jump the gun, so to speak.   I am sure they are mortified and I understand their pain now.  I got pretty well tanked on the ride downtown in the limo. There is a reason for that. I am not a drinker. It only took about 4 glasses of champagne. Premature Intoxication, if you will.  There was no need to go any further, drink wise.  

My whole thought process was skewed:  

When would I have another opportunity to have a “no worries” night?  

When would be able to have fun with so many great people?  

How often do I get into the city that I miss being in?  

Let’s live it up while we can and party like we are 20 again! 

Wrong.  All. Wrong.  

Result: My reckless abandon, cost me a great night with great people and I am no longer 20.  

Moral of the story:  Build up a tolerance before a night of binge drinking!  NO, I am kidding.  Just slow your roll.  If my BFF J or my good friend M were in the limo with me, they would have put the hammer down.  The Hub should have done that, but he was as giddy as I was.  And although I was pissed at him for letting me drink so much, I did get him back by hurling on him.  He was also sweet and endearing when he squeezed into that tiny bathroom stall and stayed with me until I could get up.  

So for all you moms out there who are getting a “no worries” night out, prevent premature intoxication.  Enjoy it, ALL of it, but in order to do that, take it slow, backpedal, pump the brakes, and use the buddy system.  Friends don’t let friends who are 40 act like they are 20, no matter how good they look!  Mazel Tov!

Happy 40th

Forty..... FORTY?  Yes, F O R T Y!  Wow.  I guess it means different things to different people.  I go back and forth.  The thing that scares me is, I just turned thirty and then ten years happened.  That ten years went by fast.  So if the next ten years happens as fast.... Fifty!?  What?  

Ages twenty to thirty went by in a blink.  I can’t even begin to describe the changes from when I was twenty!   I can’t relate to that 20-something person!   I was stubborn beyond belief. I HAD to be right.  I lied to myself and others so no one would know who I really was, nor get past my guard. I went from an unhealthy long term relationship into a frenzied, multiple partnered, dating scene that would have made Lil Kim blush.  (See, Lil Kim was this rapper who was hot when I was....um... hot.) 

Then there was this guy, who casually put a D’Angelo CD in his stereo when I went to his apartment at 2am after a party.  He was calm, cool and in no rush.  I fell in love.  In REAL love, like a slap up the side of the head love.  We moved in together and I morphed into thirty.   

At thirty, we had just gotten married, had no children, were renting a townhouse and I was working full time.   Ten years later, here I am,  house/mortgage, 11 years of marriage, fertility treatments, miscarriage, births, home raising 2 boys, hospital stays, much laughter, car accident, selling Avon, dog, breakdowns, breakthroughs and little league.  

It seems like a whirlwind.  I made my life what it is, and I love my life.  I sincerely never thought that this kind of life was possible. I still hold a fear that it will all go away.  I can’t seem to get enough therapy to dispel that fear.  It is not an all encompassing one, just a nagging one that gets in the way at times.   

I am still very much in love with my husband.  He makes me laugh and I am still amazed watching him father our boys. My sons are the revelation of joy. Yes, there are times they drive me to tears.  There are times they make me bat shit crazy.  There are times I need to be away from them.  But for the most part, I am the happiest when I am with them.  I am so humbled that I am their mother and am raising them.     

Forty can be very liberating.  I have been through enough to know that no one, not one person in this world, can tell me what to do.  I answer to no one, except myself.  I make up the rules in my life.  Yes, there are responsibilities that I have and most I hold dear.  I chose to take on those responsibilities and since I am older I choose very carefully.   I still struggle with ideologies and theologies and philosophies. But I am enjoying the learning in that struggle. I am finding my way closer to Love, Peace and Light within myself. I have learned to not take things too personally or too seriously.   It is not worth the time and energy put into it.  I don’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s pain or even discomfort, but I do not feel the need to change who I am to accommodate someone else’s sensitivities. I will not be brought into drama, aggravation or ignorance.  I will respectfully walk away from them and wish them all the best.  

I do not look like I did when I was a young, firm, bounce a quarter off of it, 20 something.  I worked out then to look good to others.  I will work out now because I love my life and want to live longer.  I want to feel what my body is still capable of doing.  I want to lose myself in the practice of Yoga or Zumba, or dancing, or whatever physical activity I participate in.  I am not gray haired yet, although the white strands are slowly starting to turn into streaks.  My face is not wrinkled but is not as taut as it once was. My scars, stretch marks, saggy boobs and weak bladder are my battle wounds and I wear them with pride. With 40 I am realizing that I am not my hair or my face or my body or even my thoughts.  What I am, is a  beautiful, timeless soul and I need to treat myself and others as such.  I have been given so much in my 40 years.  I am grateful, humbled and astounded at my life.  This birthday is my 40th and I am happy.  

Institutional Cover-ups of Child Sexual Abuse - Can It Be Stopped?

http://macleodcartoons.blogspot.com/2011/11/penn-state-and-catholic-church.html

Do children matter?  In the larger society, do they have a purpose or a place?  I hate that I have to ask these questions.  But thanks to the Sandusky trial/Penn State scandal and the Msgr Lynn trial/Catholic Church scandal, I am forced to question.  What value do children have?  What is it about them that discredits their needs and protection? 

But as I write this, I realize a commonality between the two big cases I mentioned.  The cultures of both institutions have an all male hierarchy.  I am not a man hater.  I actually love the men in my life.  I even produced two future men.  And with that in mind, I don’t believe that any society can thrive or function without equally male and female leadership.  No institution that is powered by one gender can thrive and be complete.  The Catholic Church which is so powerful, has all men at the top.  The same can be said for large universities’ football programs.  These football programs are the lifeblood of these schools.  They bring in major profits to the schools and they are tax-exempt.  Money and power go hand in hand in both these institutions.  

I want children to be protected.  I want children to be safe.  I want children to be valued.  In these institutions they were not.  The men who allowed Jerry Sandusky to rape children for over 14 years, not only did nothing, but HELPED him continue to do it.  There is a very comprehensive article in The Philadelphia Inquirer here. The first line of the article says it all:

“Three days after Mike McQueary saw Jerry Sandusky molesting a boy in a shower in 2001, two top administrators at Pennsylvania State University had begun to craft a plan:They would not notify authorities.”

This instantly shows the callous disregard for the child who was raped.  Even if - and this is a BIG if - they thought it was just “horseplay” - between a 50 something year old man and a 10 year old boy, who were both naked and alone, showering together - Penn State officials had the duty, the right and the authority to report it to child protective services and the police. Or at the very least, try to find out the identity of the poor boy.  They chose to avoid scandal. (How’s that working out for ya?)  The paper trail is there, in black and white; Paterno knew, Spainer knew, Curley knew, they did nothing of value.  Not one of them worried about that scared 10 year old boy forced to be naked in the shower with a dirty old man.  Not one of them worried about the countless other victims.  They worried instead about the money. If they lost the money they would lose the power.  That very same power that they used to sweep the incident under the rug.  

Now Penn State is being punished.  Sounds about right.  Although, the students are taking a huge brunt of this scandal and that is not entirely fair.  The students or the football players for that matter, really have nothing to do with this.  Maybe we should stop having these huge for-profit, tax exempt, football programs that also provide college education.  Maybe college should be about learning and then we can allow the NFL and the NBA sponsor teams at the schools, like a minor league. Then the school can still have it’s big football and sell tickets to the game but the money goes to education, not recruiting and funding football.  I don’t know.  Maybe that is a ridiculous idea.  Maybe that is coming from someone who did not attend a traditional 4 year college.  I am just trying to figure a way to follow the money which leads to the power, which needs to be eliminated in order to protect children in large institutions.  

Msgr. Lynn was sentenced to 3-6 years for endangering the welfare of a child. Here is a very compelling letter to the judge regarding the case.  It is from Dr. Bob Fisher.  He was raped and molested by Fr. Avery in 1982. (Fr. Avery plead guilty of raping a 10 year old boy in the sacristy at St. Jerome’s Parish in 1999)  Dr. Fisher went to Msgr. Lynn in 1992 to make sure that no other child would be hurt by Fr. Avery.  He did not ask for money or retribution, or vindication.  He simply wanted to protect innocent children.  Msgr. Lynn did not help him to do that.  Msgr. Lynn was told by Dr. Fisher in 1992 that Fr. Avery was a child rapest. Msgr. Lynn hid that truth and then 7 years later, Fr. Avery was caught raping again.  

Hiding the truth is what seems to be the problem.  A prime example in going back to the Penn State case, is the University’s decision to remove the Joe Paterno statue. The decision was dumped onto the lap of Penn State President Rodney Ericksson.  The Board of Trustees did not want to make that call.  Nor did they want an OPEN and honest discussion of ways to handle the situation. So Penn State’s president said “take it down.”  Here is how they did it.  They went in, hidden in the dimness of an early Sunday morning, behind a large fenced off area, covered by huge blue tarps.  They draped the statue and removed it from its foundation and scurried it away.  Please people, don’t pay attention to the men behind the curtains.  Let’s just pretend this did not happen and the large 900 lb. statue was never there.  Isn’t that what started this whole thing?  Stop trying to “handle” situations and start dealing with them.  Deal with them in a public forum, out in the open, for all to see.  This was a big FAIL for the Penn State Board of Trustees.  

The problem as I see it, is the failure to expose the truth.  The hidden agendas that obscure people’s visions.  The dysfunctional family of the  “Brotherhood” of priests who chose to ignore their fellow brothers who touch kids.  The powerful bishops, archbishops and cardinals who put their flock on a “need to know” basis on everything from where our collection plate money is going, to where the new parish priest came from, to why a priest is being removed from ministry.   The power hungry pimps of athletes who use the talent of college students to further their careers and expand their revenue.  The power that comes from fame and wealth and “winning” that clouds judgement and distorts morals.   And finally all those who blindly follow and support these men after they are exposed for who they really are.  

Depression

Depression sucks ass.  I hate it with every fiber of my being.  It creeps up like a fucking python.  At first, it’s hug is a familiar comfort. It stays that way for long enough for me to be content with it and carry it with ease.  Then it ever so slightly starts to squeeze.  Not enough for me to be afraid, just a bit annoyed. As I walk with that annoyance it continues it’s patient and relentless tightening.  Meanwhile I am starting to realize that I am taking this annoyance out on those around me, followed by the heart wrenching guilt that they are suffering because of me.  Then, when I am tossing and turning at night or am busying myself so that I don’t have to face sleep, or when I am fighting back tears at commercials, it has me.  

My life - the one I worked so hard to get and even harder to keep - is slowly being squeezed out of me.  This is where the rage comes in.  This is where that filthy constricting snake angers me to no limit.  I start to hate. Rage. Panic. Hate. Everything is against me.  Everyone is against me.  Everyone I know and love has something I don’t.  Peace.  No one can see the snake.  No one can release it.  I unleash my rage on the inside, trying with all that I am, not to let it out on my loves.  I don’t want it to touch those I love.  I unleash my rage inside which is what the snake wants.  It feeds slowly off of this rage and grows.  It makes me it’s slave. It’s host.  As I unleash more rage and anger it grows and tightens and grows and tightens.  I need help. No one can know. No one will understand. I must be in control. I am losing. I am suffocating.  

I stop.  I sit.  I breathe. I recognize. I cry.  Let go of the anger.  It is not my fault.  I did not invite the beast.  I did not recognize it at first.  It is not my fault.  I will not allow it to feed on my anger.  I will no longer supply it.  

I stop. I sit. I breathe. I have so much going for me.  I am surrounded by beauty and love and acceptance.  This was not always the case, but it is where I am right now. I can not dwell in the past nor worry about the future.  I am here - now.  

I have the love of my life.  That love between he and I have created even greater loves.  Those precious ones are the most wonderful additions to my life.  They are happy.  They are healthy.  They are life.  They are deserving of all of me.  I am deserving of all of me.  Depression does not deserve even a morsel of me.  

I know I need help.  I remember that there is medication that helps.  I am supposed to take it every day and I have been forgetting.  The only time I don’t need to take it is when I am exercising every day and I have not been exercising.   

I stop. I sit.  I breathe. I take my 75mg of Zoloft.  I make a plan.  Even on vacation, I will exercise, even if it is just walking.  When I feel the anger, when I feel like I have to “correct” someone or something, when I feel the need to anticipate a problem, when I start to become complacent with the smallest tightening I will stop. 

I stop. I sit. I breathe.  I will not beat myself up if I don’t stick to my plan, but I will try.  

I will stop. I will sit. I will breathe. I will appreciate. I will feel the love.   


**Addendum: I have been receiving a lot of great feedback from this piece.  Thank you so much for all the love.  I must also add that in addition to exercise and medication I also have an amazing therapist.  I do not see her regularly, but I go in for "tune-ups" now and again.  I truly believe in therapy.  An independent, unbiased ear is essential.  Thank you all again for reading.**

Hero Worship

When I started writing this piece, I really had intended it to go in a completely different direction than it wound up. I was going to focus on people and things that pissed me off. People that got on my nerves. It turns out those people are ME!  I guess it has taught me that I don’t have to fix everything. I don’t have to be the hero.  Can you relate?  Please....

Know what I hate?  Hymning and hawing.  Wishy-washy.  Passive aggressive.  (although, at times, passive aggressive can be pretty funny to watch)  I hate when someone wants something but does not ASK for it.  Like when my grandmother, whom I love dearly, will sit there and say,

“Oh, it is such a hot day out.” (pause)  “You just can’t seem to quench your thirst on a day like this.” (level look) (pause)  “I wish this weather would break.” (glare) (pause)  “My throat feels so scratchy with this dry heat.”  (fanning herself) (she is the Italian Blanche Du Bois) Then, when I take the bait, and offer her some water, she will protest.  “No, no, don’t trouble yourself, you are so busy just sitting there.”  

Why wouldn’t she just say “Can you get me a glass of water?”  I kind of forgive a little because she is 91 and in her generation, women were not allowed to just come out and ask for what they wanted. It would have been considered rude or bitchy, so they became masters of manipulation.  They always seemed to get what they wanted in the long run, but it took a lot of time and effort.  

In this day and age, just come out and say what you mean and mean what you say.  There is no need to expect others to read your mind. You are an idiot if you get mad at them for not picking up your cues!  I think it is a co-dependency thing too.  When one gives in to those manipulators, jump at their cues and try to anticipate every need, they are just as much at fault, making themselves crazy while the other sits pretty without a care in the world.  

Now that I am thinking about it, I am guilty of trying to anticipate every possible land mine, obstacle, and problem before it happens, which, at times, include anticipating how someone will react or feel.  I have been called 'Hector Projector.' 

This can work to both my advantage and my disadvantage.  For instance, if I correctly predict that my 4 yr old will be tired with no nap by 2pm and my 8 year old will be hungry by 3:30pm and my husband will not be home by 5:30pm like he said but probably closer to 7pm, I know that means that I should make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner by 4pm.  What? (stay with me)  That meal only uses 2 pots for quick cleanup, the boys will eat their full of it without hesitation, and it is an easy reheat for the Hub.  I can give the kids a bath so the Hub can eat. Then, when the boys are in bed and screaming that they want daddy, he can go up with them after he eats and I can catch up on facebook clean up the kitchen for an hour.  See, it all works.  The problem is, there are times that I anticipate the future so much that I ruin the fun now.  I am so worried about cutting obstacles off at the pass that I can’t just enjoy the present.    

But enough about me being wrong.  Let’s go back to me being right.  It is the kind of thing that makes me feel like I know what I am doing.  Makes me feel invaluable, like the hero of every day life.  Especially when we are out and about.  When, for instance, one of the kids is thirsty and I pull out an extra water.  Or we are sitting in traffic, they are just starting to argue and I hand them coloring books and crayons.  When someone skins their knee and I whip out the wipes, Neosporin and bandaids.  When Little One has an accident and I pull out the extra underwear, pants socks and shoes.  When someone is cold and I have the sweater, someone is hot and I have the cool towel.  When someone is scared and I remembered to bring Mr. Turtle. When someone is looking for his sunglasses and I find them where he always leaves them (in the center console of the minivan) When we go on vacation with the dog and I remember the can opener for the dog food. When someone’s alarm clock on their blackberry goes off at 4AM on a weekend and I get up to find it and turn it off so the kids are not woken up.  When...  

Oh MY GOD, I am about to cry!  I can’t take this shit anymore..... WHERE IS MY COOL TOWEL!  WHERE IS MY SIPPY CUP!   WHO IS TAKING CARE OF ME?   But here is the thing.  It’s completely my fault.  Who said that I have to make sure that everyone wants for nothing, all the time? I mean the Hub runs out the door with the boys, with nothing but a plan for how to have fun.  And you know what?  They always do!  They have a blast.  There are times where he may have wished he had an extra water/pants/bandaid/snack, but not too often.  Why am I so friggin neurotic?  Why do I have to anticipate everything?  I guess that is just my job?  Is it?  I mean maybe that is why the kids don’t see that there are consequences for  shit happens!  And sometimes there is not a GD thing you can do about it.  It’s life.  You can never anticipate everything. Now, I am still going to be an advocate for being prepared, because it has saved my ass more than a few times, but maybe I don’t have to be so crazy about it.  Maybe I don’t need to focus on it as much.  It sounds good in theory, right? 

Isn’t it good enough just being me, being their mother who has fun and gives advise instead of sippy cups, time instead of activities, love and attention instead of bandaids and a change of pants?  Maybe I should let them figure out their needs all on their own?  Naaa, who will be the hero, then?  ;)  

Am I raising Spaulding Smails?

Here are some major mothering mistakes, right here, out in the open.  In case you want a little review here is what I wrote last summer about this same time.  (My Bad Ass Kids) 

Let me first preface that First Born is a energy filled, constant moving, attention loving and intelligent. He is loved by his teachers and coaches.  We always get compliments about how focused he is and how he stays away from trouble causing situations, even when they involve his friends.  He is helpful to other children and is generally happy and very confident.  

With that being said, he can be the most complaining and seemingly ungrateful 8 year old I know.  He always wants more.  When at a Phillies game - sitting in amazing seats - he wants to be in the front row, then he wants another hot dog, then he wants popcorn, then he wants to walk around the stadium.  When we tell him ‘no’ to all of these things he sulks, pouts and whines.  See Spaulding When on a vacation in Gettysburg - after spending 2 hours walking through the park - he complains that we didn’t get to see everything.  When going fishing, he complains that he didn’t catch the biggest/first/most fish.  When at the beach he is too hot/cold or his sandcastle is not perfect.  When I tell him to get a shower he wants a bath. When I tell him to get a bath he wants a shower.  

The ingrate does not realize how good he’s got it!  Pretty Damn Good!  We are by no means rich, but our kids want for NOTHING.  There are times I think a good 70s style whoop ass is in order!  Once First Born was complaining that he was the ONLY one of his friends that did not have an DS!   I then asked him why he wanted one, since he hates video games and gets frustrated when playing them.  He said, because everyone else has one! WTF!  (not a good enough answer, you ain’t getting one!) Then he asked for an ipod touch for Christmas. Really?  He is 8!  He likes music and so do I, but an ipod touch?  This is not needed at this age, not to mention that it can connect to the internet and I am not comfortable with that. Besides the fact that I think he just wanted it to play Angry Birds.  He has complained that we don’t have a pool or a cool play set or a garden railroad!  WHAT!  He wants a garden railroad and was pissed when I told him that was unrealistic.  I guess my next project is to go online and find out ways that I can teach and instill fiscal responsibility and deter greed.  

He is not always this way.  There are many times he is very happy and accommodating.  But we never know when Spaulding will rear his ugly head.  When he does act like a spoiled brat, it brings us all down.  No one can seem to fully enjoy the event, if little Mr. 'I want it all and I want it now' is around.  I can, at times, predict when he will act this way - he hasn’t gotten enough sleep, he is hungry, Hub is working a lot, he has been watching too much tv, etc.  These are all indications that he will be miserable and ungrateful.  Although, how long can we use these excuses?  And how long will I feel completely responsible for him acting like a pain in the ass, since it is my job to make sure he is fed, has enough sleep, is not watching too much tv, etc., etc.? 

Just the other day, we were at the Phillies game and all the aforementioned  things happened. The Hub and I decided that we were leaving the game early because he could not stop his complaining.  He cried but did not seem surprised.   When we got home, Hub and I snuck outside to fight about confer and figure out the best way to handle the situation.  We made First Born call and apologize to my dad, who bought the tickets, and my brother who was sitting next to him listening to all his complaints. Then we sent him to bed.   I had to give kudos to my Hub, because what he said really set in. Hub told First Born, “I am not mad, but what you did made me sad and disappointed.”  This hit home, as only a father telling his son, he is disappointed in him, can.  First Born, said “I don’t know why I am so stupid and say stupid things.  I just can’t stop them from coming out of my mouth. I am sad that I treated Pop Pop and Uncle J that way.” I explained that he was not stupid but just has to think before he speaks.  It was a good lesson as he was made to understand what his words and actions do to other people.  That is my main concern.  That he recognizes those around him and how they are affected.    

It may be hard for an 8 year old NOT to be all self absorbed, but it is our job as parents to make sure they aren’t.  I am not doing a great job, but I am working on it. I made a new rule for dinner time.  We are not allowed to talk about the food, unless it is something nice.  I will have no more: 

“Eww, what is this?”   -  It is chicken without breading and don't use that tone!  

“Do I have to eat this?” - No, but you will be hungry, if you don’t because the kitchen is now closed.  

“I don’t like this/It’s too dry/too wet/ touching my other food/too bland/too spicy,”  - I don’t care!  You are lucky I cooked you a meal that we are all sitting down together to eat!  I bust my ass to make food and clean up food all friggin day long and you are going to complain!  GET TO YOUR ROOM!  

Then Hub and I, after many frustrated looks and grimaces to each other, glare at the boys, excuse ourselves and sneak outside to fight about confer and discuss the best way to handle the children.

We have stopped all these dinnertime frustrations.  We can talk about our day or any topic as long as it is not focusing on the food or the eating of the food.  It seems to be working, so far.  

The Little One who is only 4 seems to get it.  But he is just an easy going, don’t rock the boat, type.  (he is a lot like Hub, in that way)  Although when he wants something he has his Jedi mind tricks.   He was a premie and Little One and I both went through a lot just to get him here/keep him here.  He doesn’t ask for or demand much so when he asks “Can you pree-teck me when its time for sleepings in case I have a dream”  we tend to give in a little more than I did with First Born.  Or when he says “I sure like chippy’s and dippy’s. Mommy why don’t you put some out?” (chippy’s and dippy’s is Stacy’s pita chips and Yucatan guacamole, in case you were wondering)  I can’t help but put them out.  He may complain a little if we are going in from outside and he wants to stay out, or if we are not having macaroni and cheese for the 6th time that week, or if he can not watch Alvin and the Chipmunks.... again, but when you tell him ‘no’ he is pretty accepting and easy going. It may just be a personality thing.  

I love my boys.  I want them to be happy and confident, compassionate children that grow into happy and confident, compassionate adults.  NOT Spaulding Smails.

So any suggestions, comments, gaffaws, criticisms?  Have at it!   I am open to anything.  

Happy Father's Day to my Hub

He is my husband and the father of our children. But those titles do not do him justice. He makes our boys feel special and valued. Here are just a few of the reasons I pat myself on the back for marrying and having children with my Hub. 


He has shown me how to be patient with my boys.


He allows our boys to be the daredevils that they are and (most of the time) he proves my worrying wrong. 


He shows our boys what love looks like. 


He always strives to make our boys' day the "best day ever!" 


He is slow to anger/frustration and fast to recover from anger/frustration. 


He then apologizes for his anger or frustration if it is unwarranted. 


He makes sure our boys are safe, happy and cared for at all times. 


He tells our boys that they are his "best buddies." 


He recognizes our boys unique and different abilities. 


He talks to them about his childhood. 


He shows them that it is ok to be wrong or make a mistake. 


He shows them how to apologize. 


He never misses a little league, coach pitch baseball game and when our First Born is playing he watches as if the Phillies are in the world series. 


He cuddles with our Little One. 


He is very sensitive to our First Born's fears at bedtime and much more patient than I am. 


He introduces them to all kinds of music. 


He loves watching them belly laugh at the Three Stooges.


He will watch train videos ad nausuem with our boys. 


He will even purchase more train videos so that they can watch them when he is not home. 


He surprises them with stickers/hard hats/clip boards/"important papers" that he "finds" at work.


He explains to them when he is tired from working so much and tolerates it when they ignore his explanation. 


He enthusiastically takes them hiking and fishing and exploring. 


He will dig holes on the beach until it is unsafe for the general public to walk on said beach, just because the boys want more holes in the sand.  


He teaches them the value of hard work and doing things right the first time. 


He shows them the importance of being a true Philadelphia Sports fan, through thick and thin. No bandwagoners allowed! 


He not only allows but encourages them to be goofy. 


He demonstrates this goofiness daily. 


He gives me hugs and kisses in front of them. 


He makes me laugh almost as much as they do. 


He drives me crazy, in both the good way and the bad way. 


He loves me for the crazy that I am. 


He consistently shows our boys what an amazing father and loving husband looks like, every day. 


Happy Father's Day My Love!

Waiting on the Verdict and the Millstone

The trial of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania v. William J. Lynn, Edward V. Avery and James Brennan has come to a close. We are now awaiting the verdict. I followed the trial closely. There is a man named Ralph Cipriano who is a veteran reporter and one of 30 journalists accredited by the Philadelphia district attorney's office to cover the case. He has been reporting on the trial daily on his blog sponsored by the Beasly Firm.  I read his blog along with the articles in Philly.com, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Daily News and the AP. Ralph's blog was by far the most concise, independent, and non biased account of the trial. I really respect his insight and his candor. Ralph raised many concerns about both the defense and the prosecution's cases. One being that the prosecution seemed to be a bit long winded, with so much evidence and information, that it may have been too much to digest, for the jury. The other being that the prosecution had hammered Msgr Lynn too hard on cross examination. In the words of (kopride) one of the commenters on his blog: "nobody likes rats, but if you watched a kid tie a string to a rat, and torture it for hours, you would start rooting for the rat." Yet another problem for the prosecution was their "smoking gun" - the 1994 list of pedophile priests composed by Lynn and ordered to be shredded by Cardinal Bevilacqua - was also being used by the defense. The defense was using it to show that Lynn was just a patsy, a scapegoat, and the real guilty one is, the conveniently dead, Cardinal Bevilacqua.

That was the defense's mantra all along. That Lynn had no real power to do anything to the pedophile's in the Archdiocese. Accept of course, recommend that they get treatment or hand them their assignment to the next unsuspecting parish. When parishioners wrote, called or sat down with Lynn and told their horrific stories to him, he had a hand written note in front of him, telling him, "Never admit to victims that there are other cases."  And he didn't. He never told these people that they were not alone. That Fr. Gana, or Dux, or Sicoli, or Avery or Brennan, had other victims who were suffering just like they were. He quietly listened, and told them that he would take care of it. Then did nothing. And more children suffered.

There are some things that the trial showed that hopefully the people in the pews will take notice of. Priests stand together. They make a vow of obedience to their superiors. They are moved higher in the ranks when they play by the rules and don't rock the boat. But, in the real world, if an HR manager had a file of 35 employees whom were accused of raping children, and some of them even admitted it; wouldn't the moral, legal and ethical thing to be done, would be, call the police? If the statute of limitations passed wouldn't you at least get these men away from children? Wouldn't a normal person tell parishioners to be extra careful and guard their children? Maybe even have some sort of counseling for the possible effected families? In the real world most would even risk losing their jobs to make sure that innocent children are protected from these monsters. But Lynn did not live in the real world. He lived in a much safer world. Mgsr. Lynn’s lack of compassion and empathy for the powerless and his reverence and awe of the powerful are what this trial has shown, (if nothing else.) The difference of him standing up to his superiors and speaking out for the victims (either by going to the police/parishioners/press/screaming it from the rooftops!) and someone in the secular community doing so is that HE would not loose his job/livelihood. HE is a priest and guaranteed a job, a home, food, a pension, insurance and PROTECTION! So he stood to lose NOTHING by standing up for what was right. For standing up and saying I WILL NOT STAND BY AND ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN UNDER MY NOSE. Not to mention that he is a PREIST and supposed to do that ANYWAY, regardless! That is his CALLING! SO I can feel no compassion for his decisions. I can feel no compassion for his situation. It was a lack of even a shred of courage. Because he did not stand to lose anything, accept, being in the good graces of his Cardinal.

Is what he did/didn't do criminal? In my opinion, Yes. Is what he did/didn't do immoral? Absolutely Yes. Will the jury come to the same conclusion? I really don't know. I would not be surprised if they didn't. But no matter what the outcome, the work of exposing the truth in the Catholic Church is not done. The light needs to be shown bright on everyone who knew and did nothing when children were being raped and tortured.

A newer story just surfaced. Cardinal Dolan, when he was Archbishop of Milwaukee and who is now cardinal archbishop of New York and head of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, paid off pedophiles! What is better than moving a pedophile to another unsuspecting parish? Give him $20,000.00 and release him to the public with a clean record. Oh and cover his health insurance.  It makes me sick. Substantiated allegations of child rape and molestation were made against priests in Milwaukee. The solution in Cardnial Dolan's mind was to give them money to leave the preisthood. Hell, it was cheaper than paying all those victims and then the priests were not his problem. He could very biblically "wash his hands of it." After they paid off their "problem priests" they filed for bankruptcy so they would not have to pay the victims. Apparently this is the m.o. for most Archdiocese when faced with a lot of troublesome lawsuits against their brother priests.  They file for bankruptcy and then claim they don't have the money to pay the abuse victims. They then bounce back and are off scott free! All the while, the money keeps rolling in every Sunday. And for all those that still think that unscrupulous people are lining up for a payday; Fewer than 2 percent of sexual abuse allegations against the Catholic church appear to be false.

So I can not even venture a guess as to the outcome of the first Catholic official prosecuted and brought to a jury trial on criminal charges of endangering the welfare of children by failing to investigate and report allegations of child abuse. I hope it is just and swift. But I am not holding my breath. The next trial that will be like this one is coming up against Kansas City Bishop Robert Finn. Interestingly enough, he is blaming Msgr. Robert Murphy, who is Lynn's counterpart in Kansas City. Lynn blames Bevilacqua, Finn blames Murphy.... NO one in the Church is taking responsibility. Everyone is passing the buck, closing ranks and protecting their own brother priests. Who is looking out for the vulnerable?

They better start listening to Jesus. He said, "'Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me; and whoever ensnares one of these little ones who trust me, it would be better for him to have a millstone hung around his neck and be drowned in the open sea! Woe to the world because of snares! For there must be snares, but woe to the person who sets the snare!..... See that you never despise one of these little ones, for I tell you that their angels in heaven are continually seeing the face of my Father in heaven." Matthew 18,5-11

Since they didn't listen to the big man, they better get their swim trunks and millstones ready!

My Love of Irish Women

I am attracted to Irish women. I surround myself with them. From the earliest friends I ever picked to my current harem, they are all Irish Americans. I am married to an Italian, Croatian, Slovakian, American man. He has no Irish heritage that we know of, but there is still hope. 


For the most part I am Italian American. Although, my mother's paternal grandmother was Irish. I am still doing research to find out more about when and where in Ireland that part of my family came from. My best friend for the past 23 years, Jenny, is of Irish decent. In 1st grade, the first person I ever picked, for myself, as a friend, was Shannon Brown - about as Irish as they come. When I was born I was instantly friends with Alexis. Her mother and my mother were friends, therefore we did not have a choice, but have remained friends to this day.... Oh she is only half Irish, but it is a pretty big half. I had another childhood friend, Nicole, who, although she was Korean, was raised by Irish parents. In middle school there was Amy and Megan. When I was in High School, I became very good friends with Colleen, again, really Irish, really fun. Then I befriended Molly, Sue, and Jenny and then Melanie, Maureen, Shannon and Donna. All more Irish than the next. I am totally serious here. I am not making up random names. The list goes on. Just in the past few years I have become close friends with Michele, Katie, and just met a new friend, who I clicked with, Noreen; you guessed it, all Irish. Oh, I just made a new facebook friend, who is a blogger, and is... wait for it... Irish American! Her name is Bethany and her blog is www.4godsakesboys.com. She is a riot and an amazing story teller. (check her out) 


Although my friends share the same heritage, they have very different personalities, backgrounds, and life experiences. In trying to analyze this phenomenon, I have figured out the one thing that attracts me to them is that they let me be me. They don't seem to mind me. Most of them find me pretty amusing. I feel good being around them and they are all very easy going and thoughtful. Now I am not sure if these traits are specific to their Irish heritage or if it is just some amazing coincidence that all the women I ever let get close to me, share that heritage. We do have lots in common, agree on major stuff, and there is no competition between us. In that we like each other for the different ways we handle things. I am, well, kinda loud. When I say kinda loud, I mean overpowering. I lack tact. I am only 5 ft tall so I have a bit of a Napoleon complex and if you set me off, most people in the tri-state area will know about it. See, I am not that easy to get along with, because I don't have much of a filter. Also, I can be a real pain in the ass when it comes to controlling things, like driving, and planning, and conversations. I tend to control it all. But, hey, I am working on it. And if I did not control some things, it would not get done properly. (See what I mean?) I would not describe my current Irish besties as "loud," although they get their point across loud and clear and most importantly... They actually like me! I think I may be their comic relief. The quirky/crazy sidekick, in their particular sitcom. 


I really love my Mick girlfriends. They are beautiful, fun and full of life. They make me laugh and allow me to cry. My best friend Jenny, knows me as well as my husband does, (maybe better) and she still loves me. She allows me to be my messed up self and accepts me. She is the kindest most considerate woman I know and she is a ferocious protector of those she loves. She is not loud or demanding, but if you ever need to get something done or need help in any way, she is your perfect advocate. Michele, who is a more recent friend, is another person who allows me to be myself. She also accepts me and although she is not a loud mouth Italian, we have so much in common, it is scary. We both have been through very similar circumstances in our lives and lived to tell about it! She is extremely kind and more fun than you can shake a stick at. 


So there it is, my true confession of my love for Irish women! No matter what our heritage, us women need other women in our lives. We need to have that support system of people who do not judge us, or try to fix us, or condescend to us. We need fellow women to bounce ideas off of and hash out dilemmas. We need our girlfriends to lift us up and support us and tell us like it is without crushing us. Now I do have a husband who does all these things too. But it is different, in that I am IN love with him. So his support is a little more intimate. But my girlfriends, well, they give me strength. So, if I ever get to Ireland, I may never return! But only if I can bring my girlfriends with me!