Don't Call Me Blanche DuBois

I am a huge proponent of being an organ donor.  I have no use for my body after I am gone please use any of it to save someone else’s life.  ANY OF IT!  Eyeballs – heart whatever.  Take it.  Not going to need it anymore.

A while ago a former business partner of my father’s came back into my life via Facebook.  I have vague memories of him from when I lived in New Jersey for two reasons – 1. He was very patient with me as a four/five year old and 2. His last name is Pugaczewski – hard to forget someone with that last name.

I found out through FB that his wife was in need of a kidney.  They were looking for a living donor.  Pleading with people to just get tested to even see if they were a match.  I thought about it.  I prayed about it.  Don’t know why the idea was so unnerving.  But I decide I could do it.  I would see if I was a match.  I mean we have two kidneys – I don’t need both.

https://www.kidney.org/transplantation/livingdonors

I went to Chad to talk about it and was surprised at how adamant he was that I NOT do it.  His reasoning was fair.  Zachary only has one kidney.  He was born with a multicystic kidney so it never functioned and at this point in his life it has been reabsorbed by his body.  It was a fluke that we even caught it. I was considered a high risk pregnancy based on a previous miscarriage so I was going for sonograms all the time.  The OB was concerned with Z’s head but it turned out his head is great – it was his kidney.  I freaked at the time hearing the news.  But it turns out we really don’t need two kidneys – one works just fine.  And we only use a small percentage of the one anyway.  Z’s urologist said that while we needed to be smart, like probably avoiding contact sports like football and boxing where he is more likely to injure his one good kidney, but we did not need to make him spend his life indoors not participating. 

Chad asked what if something happens to Z’s kidney and HE needs a transplant?  Family will be the closest match.  I talked to my Dad about it and he was the exact same way.  I was surprised by both of their reactions.  I completely understand it but surprised.

I found myself wondering if they would have reacted the same way with a different living transplant - liver transplant (where they can take a partial sample) or bone marrow transplant.  Or if it had been someone we were really close to – family or friend – rather than a distant acquaintance for my dad or complete stranger to Chad.

I then went to this place: what if I am not a match for Z and neither is anyone in our family but we find ourselves in a place where he needs a kidney?  We become the ones on Facebook desperately reaching out to the cyber world for someone to just get tested.  Just see if you are even a match.  Watching our son’s life hang on the chance of someone willing to step up.  How can I expect someone to be braver than me?  How can I rely on people to save my son if I am not capable of doing it for someone else?

I fully support and understand Chad’s feelings on Carolyn’s situation and do not disagree with his reasoning.  This post isn’t about that decision in particular.  It is more about talking the talk and walking the walk when it comes to helping people.  Or even “paying it forward” karma like. I believe in karma to the extent that you get what you put out there – if you are a good and generous person, you will have a good life.  Not because you earn points but because you face life with a good attitude.  I love the stories about people who come out of the blue from the most unexpected places and change lives with their selflessness.  Who give of themselves because it is the good and decent thing to do and it helps someone that really needs it.

Writing a check to St. Jude’s or running a race for Miracle League is not the same thing to me.  It is giving but it is not me digging down deep and giving meaningfully.  How can I expect my children to help change the world when all I do is pull out my checkbook?  I want them to experience what it means to make a difference in a person’s life and I don’t want them to rely or wait on someone else to make a difference in theirs.

For the past several Lents, I have wanted us as a family to pick a volunteer opportunity to do together.  I had used the excuse they Ry was too young to truly have a part but she is now 7 - plenty old enough to help out at some places.  But we haven't done anything.  We are too busy.  We are too tired.  Nothing is convenient.

We, the Martin family, have too much to offer to not help.  So while I am not saying we are all donating organs this year, I hope that we do step it up and get out, get involved, and make a difference.  I hope that at Easter Mass this year I am proud of our Lenten devotion.  And that God forbid there comes a time where Z needs a kidney or something tragic hits our family, I want to know that I am not asking of others what I would not myself do.

Epilogue:  Carolyn Pugaczewski did receive a kidney and is doing well thanks to a living donor.  Z plays soccer and karate.  Karate is different than boxing right?  So much for avoiding full contact sports.  

Pinch of Melody...Dash of Lyric

I was asked what draws me to a song – the music or the lyrics.  My first thought was “ummmm of course the lyrics!” I mean that is what makes a song special right – the words?  How they speak to you?  How they give pause in your brain to make way for pure emotion:

“The sacred simplicity of you by my side.” Vienna Teng  (these words made me sigh and shiver all at the same time)

Yet there is the melody.  Can I like a song for its lyrics if the tune is bad? I mean I have liked songs with bad lyrics because the music was good.  And usually I don’t catch the lyrics on the first listen – it is only after time or if I make a point of trying to listen that I understand the lyrics.  Logically then it would be the music.  So then maybe it is the music that first catches my attention but the lyrics that make it a favorite?

In an effort to answer the question, I looked at my MK Random playlist to see if there is a pattern to why these songs are important to me.

The list presented another reason other than notes or lyrics.  Association.  Several songs on my list are there because of why I heard them – introduced by Chad.  There is a song that is on there just because it is Rylee’s “sparkle” song and it makes me so happy to hear it because it makes her so happy to hear it.  There is a song on the list because I heard it on a favorite TV show during a climactic moment. The list also has songs because I like how the music makes me feel.  Free.  Or happy.  Or sad.  Or iintrospective. Still other songs have lyrics make me think of someone, some time, or take me somewhere.

 It seems I can’t answer why I am drawn to a song or why I choose to listen again.  I suspect there is no right answer – no consistent answer – no one answer - at least for me there isn’t.  I know there are songs that pull me in completely.  I know there are songs I want to stand up and dance to each time I hear them.  I know there are songs that make me ache in every fiber of me.  Just don’t know why.  Just don’t know that it matters. 

Too Bad Its Not Dessert - I Understand Ice Cream

I write this not as a political comment or even an opinion on whether he is a deserter or not – it is more of an overarching comment on the idea/scenario of deserting.

Recently the US traded three Gitmo prisoners for a US soldier (and since I promised that this was not a political post, I won’t go into how much I disagree with this move.)  The soldier, Army Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl, has been going through a reintegration process and having medical and mental examinations.   However while he may be unaware of all the press surrounding his release, the rest of us are quite aware.

The whole scenario is full of controversy:

• Why would the make a swap now it puts our overseas soldiers in danger
• Why was Congress not consulted before the swap
• His fellow soldiers say he walked off the base that night he disappeared so he is a deserter

While the first point is one I have some opinions on, it is the third that actually inspired this post.

Why does any soldier that is serving on foreign soil especially in hostile territory desert?  Where are they going to go???  It is not like they can live forever in the desert.  They can’t just hitch a ride to the airport and fly back to the US.  I do not understand this concept.  How is walking away from the military and going AWOL in a foreign hostile country better than staying and telling your commander you quit. 

OOOOOHHHHKAAAY – I know it doesn’t really work that way.  You can’t quit just like that but can you stay on the run in Afghanistan forever?

I am not trying to make light of any of anything our soldiers go through who are serving a tour in some of the most hostile environments.  I can’t imagine the toll it takes on a person mentally, emotionally, and physically to be away from loved ones, in constant danger, and not able being to ever relax.  I just genuinely do not understand how running into enemy territory is even considered a solution.  Is it that things have gotten so bad that you don’t think clearly?  Is it that maybe it isn’t as difficult as I think to get home when you run away in Iraq?

I am just perplexed.  When we get updates on the news about the situation and how it seems everyone is mad at Sgt Bergdahl (as well as Obama) my mind just goes to that why would he do it?

I recognize that I will probably never get an answer to my question.  I also will concede that perhaps I am looking for a simple answer to an incredibly complex situation.  One that I thank God that I have never been in…

Ce que l'enfer?

On Monday, Rylee greets me with nonsense babble, “Blahsee SheShe Mwah Mwah.”  I make a funny face at her and tell her she is too silly.  She then continues with this strange speech.

I then ask her what we should have for dinner and she responds with “Ploopie Plah Goo RooRoo.”  Fighting my irritation, I tell her that I do not understand what she is saying.

She then informs me that it is Speak Only in French Day.

I laugh and tell her that neither of us speak French.  She then whispers “that’s why you make it up!”

Touche’!

Yes She Does Z!

Ry still watches Nick Jr and Disney Jr a little bit but Z is long over it and done with it.  He tolerates his sister watching because he has no other choice when it is her turn to pick a TV show.  The other night however I truly was amused by his reaction.

Disney Jr. has this short that the runs in between shows about a little girl who has to pee.  I kid you not:

Nina Needs To Go

The premise is always the same with each little episode that Nina doesn’t go to the bathroom when her mom asks and Nina waits until it is an emergency and it is horrible timing because they are at the top of a mountain in a full snow suit type of thing.

When the latest one came on, Z huffed, stood up, shook his head and walked away from the TV.  He was so agitated!  I asked what the deal was and he said “I thought this was supposed to be educational shows but she is clearly not learning anything!”  I was confused for a second thinking he was talking about Ry but then he continued “She says at the end of each episode ‘Now I know – don’t wait to go’ but then in the next episode she WAITS again!  She obviously doesn’t really know!”

Seeing that I am not an award winning mom, I am shaking from holding in my giggles at his irritation.

“I can’t even watch it is so ridiculous that she doesn’t get it.  She does need to go -- go away!”

Bwaaaaaa haaaahaaa!!  I agree Z!

Yo

I considered calling this post The Latest Sign of the Apocalypse.  I am just so flabbergasted I can't wrap my brain around it.  My colleague sent me a link to the latest app:

Not a Joke

So this idea has raised one MILLION (had to capitalize that word and now I am going to repeat it) MILLION dollars.  I think what has me so fritz is that someone said hey let’s see if we can create and app that only sends the word Yo to folks.  It took a total of 8 hrs to create.  Was this person a genius?  A lucky bastard?  A drunken dare taker?

To compound my perplexion (made that word up – can I get a million dollars?) people are really downloading this app – over 50,000 people – AND there is a million dollars in funding.  So I begin wondering who is downloading and who is funding?  Geniuses? Lucky bastards?  Drunks??

I get that I am not an innovator or entrepreneur and that I am not going to be world famous or rich for my contributions to society but really.  There is someone out there that made money off sending the word Yo.  My co-workers and I look at each other like where did we go wrong?   There are some pretty cool ideas out there – like the person that took every piece of IKEA stock and cross referenced it with various cars and came up with an app that can tell you based on your car which boxes you can fit in your car and how to fit them in there.  Then sold it to IKEA and made a few bucks or so.  Such a practical idea that our office is like I TOTALLY should have come up with that.  Then Yo rolls around and we are stunned.  We’ll continue to drive a hideous commute to work every day so that we can sit inside and make money to pay for the house we are never in or dream of the vacations we never take because we didn’t think to create an app that says Yo.

What does the success of the app say about the people that created the app?

What does the success of the app say about the people downloading the app?

What does the success of the app say about the people funding of the app?

What does the success of the app say about society?

What does the success of the app say about me?

Society…truly I don’t think it is that BIG of a thing to say society is crumbling or we are a society of geniuses that are lucky bastards that drink.  But makes you pause and wonder doesn’t it?!

And what does it say about me?  Nothing really other than it explains why I created the word perplexion.

Yo.

Half Way Done

I really don’t like when people say – “Oh it goes by so fast” or “Time flies” – it is so very annoying. But I say those things too because I really don’t know what else to say.  And because it is true.  It sucks but it is still true.  I frequently use my stock catch phrase “Life is like a roll of toilet paper – the closer to the end you get the quicker it goes.”

Z turned 9 a few months ago.  It sounds weird to say out loud.  My son is 9.  I have a nine year old.  Z has been a part of my life for nine years.  After going through all the iterations of my son is 9 – I thought – holy crap we are half way through the time we get with him.  I mean when he turns 18 my guess is he’ll go to college and once he steps out of the door that is it.  Our lives will never be the same – his, Chad and mine, and even Rylee – because even when he does come home, he will be “visiting” because his life will be elsewhere as it should be.

How can this sweet beautiful boy only be a part of our lives for nine more years?  How can I only get nine more years of snuggles, smiles, and those giant blue eyes blinking at me from behind the glasses?  How do I only get nine more years of watching him mature, discover, and grow?!  It really isn’t fair.  The idea of letting him go makes my heart break.

I am completely aware that this was part of the deal when I signed on to be a parent.  I KNOW OK!!!  I get it – from the minute he was born it was our responsibility to start teaching him how to be an individual that is self-sufficient and capable on his own making the world better and brighter.  I know that each milestone he has had – from rolling over, to walking, to learning to write his name – has been a benchmark that pulls him a little further away from needing his parents.  Doesn’t take away the fact that it makes me so very sad.  I can’t imagine him not coming down in the middle of the night to tell me he has a bad dream or talking for hours about Pokémon or Minecraft.  I find myself sometimes looking up the stair towards his room and imagining what it will feel like when he is not up there.  Only nine more years.

Rumor is that in a few years, I will be claiming that time is not moving fast enough to get my teenager out of the house and into college.  That when he turns 13 or so the drama, the mood swings, the attitude will all convince me that 18 years is plenty and that I won’t cry the day he walks out the door for college but instead will do a happy dance and start counting down the days until Ry is gone too.  OK maybe? Probably? I guess I will feel that way but that is for a future blog post.  In this one, I still want to hold him tighter and remind him every chance I get that I love him and am proud of him.

This week on the radio station I listen to, the DJs were talking about the last song they had downloaded.  The final one was a song called Light by Sleeping At Last.  Now I listen to an alternative rock station (alternative rock-ish – doesn’t play indie rock but more like main stream rock but no Justin Bieber or Katy Perry) so I was expecting something along those lines.  Um no.  People I CRIED on my drive into work!  CRIED from a song.  Seriously.

LIGHT by Sleeping At Last

may these words be the first
to find your ears.

the world is brighter than the sun
now that you’re here.

though your eyes will need some time to adjust
to the overwhelming light surrounding us,

i’ll give you everything i have.
i’ll teach you everything i know.
i promise i’ll do better.
i will always hold you close,
but i will learn to let you go.
i promise i’ll do better.
i will soften every edge,
i’ll hold the world to its best,
and i’ll do better.
with every heartbeat i have left
i will defend your every breath,
and i’ll do better.

’cause you are loved.
you are loved more than you know.

i hereby pledge all of my days
to prove it so.

though your heart is far too young to realize
the unimaginable light you hold inside,

i’ll give you everything i have.
i’ll teach you everything i know.
i promise i’ll do better.
i will always hold you close,
but i will learn to let you go.
i promise i’ll do better.
i will rearrange the stars,
pull ‘em down to where you are.
i promise, i’ll do better.
with every heartbeat i have left,
i’ll defend your every breath.
i promise i’ll do better.
i will soften every edge,
hold the world to its best.
i promise i’ll do better.
with every heartbeat i have left,
i’ll defend your every breath,
(i’ll do better.)

“I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go.”  UGH.  Do I have to?

Light by Sleeping At Last

Please go take a listen if you want a good sentimental cry…unless your kid is a teenager. Then you can go listen and laugh at the ridiculousness of it and knowingly shake your head and say just you wait.  Right now…I can wait.  I love you Zachary James higher than any number you can count.  You are always in my heart.

If Only They Could Hear Me

This morning on the radio the DJs were discussing the most recent school shooting in Oregon.  Twitter and Facebook are blowing up with map that shows the locations of the 74 school shootings that have happened in the 18 months since Sandy Hook.  The DJs were taking calls to from listeners on their thoughts on why it happened.  There were topics such as:

• Because we need to confront mental illness and take away the stigma
• Because we let our kids play video games and they are desensitized
• Because we need tighter restrictions on assault weapons

I do not have the answer – I truly wish I did.  But don’t you worry I have opinions!

I do believe that mental illness needs to be brought out into the open and take away the shame that comes with diagnosis and treatment.  I do think our kids get desensitized by video games and are forced into mature situations to early but I still let my kids play Xbox. 

Gun control?  Yikes I am not sure how I feel – I do not like guns.  Chad says that it is because I am uneducated about them and they scare me - which is true.  I do not think they are necessary for you to carry on a daily basis unless you are a solider in a warzone and certainly not into a Chipotle.  I guess on some level I do understand wanting to protect your home and family and keeping that right to own a gun.  I also married a man who knows how to hunt and wants to pass that on to our son. So where to balance owning guns for hunting and home invasion protection vs. carrying a weapon in to your workplace or a restaurant because you can – no idea.

Some schools have allowed armed teachers and some people want universities to allow students to carry guns on campus.  Really?  Let’s let the 18 year old that potentially is still drunk from last night carry a fire arm into a lecture hall.  When the latest Fort Hood shooting happened, I turned to Chad and said if a military base FULL of armed people still had this happen why do they think letting college kids carry weapons will keep campuses safer?????

However, out of all these 74 school shootings, or Sandy Hook, or even the horrible shootings at Ft. Hood and the recent Vegas police killings, I don’t know that any of the guns were obtained illegally or  that gun regulations truly would have made a difference.  The kids that did the killing “borrowed” from their parents and I am sure the parents obtained them legally.  I am sure the parents also kept them locked up and followed proper protocol but these kids were old enough to know where they were kept and how to work them.

This post was actually inspired by the fourth comment I heard on the radio:

• These school shootings are because of the “wussification” of parents.  If parents were able to punish their kids without being accused of child abuse none of this would happen.

I became thoroughly unglued in the car.  I shouted at the radio – at the caller – at the DJs for not countering this point and I am sure my fellow commuters worried I was a little disturbed.  I yelled “Yes let’s use violence on our kids to show them that violence won’t help them solve their problems!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  Are you KIDDING?????  Beating your kid – ok that is extreme - but even spanking your kid will solve school shootings??  Don’t you think that when your kid does something wrong and you use corporal punishment to hold them accountable that this act will translate to when your kid is being bullied then the bully needs to be punished?

I am all about holding my kids accountable for their actions and behaviors.  If they make a bad decision then they have a consequence – take away electronics or not allow a play date – heck I am not above removing the door off the hinges when they are teens if need be. But I don’t see how hitting my children can really help any situation.  Teaching them to what to do if bullied or how to channel anger or keeping an eye on their mental health might be better approaches don't you think???

I was thinking I should call in and provide a rebuttal but the moment had passed and there was a new caller.  So I screamed at my radio but I did not get any satisfaction so I changed the station.  I really showed them huh?

Just Like That...

We have come to the last day of school and it truly was a fast year.  

August 2013

Ready to face the year

June 2014

Last picture as a kinder and 3rd Grader

Ry is ready for the summer - she has visions of lots of pool time and playing.  Z is his usual apprehensive self.  He is not sure he is ready to leave the third grade and get a new teacher.  He is mature enough to realize this is what he is feeling and he has been worried he might cry like he did the last day of school last year.Change is not his forte (something I have apparently passed along to him) but I bet that once Monday rolls around and he gets to play video games and go to the pool his anxiety will mysteriously disappear. 

Well until August is here and he will face life as a fourth grader.

That's Nobody's Business But the Turks!

Way back in Nov of 2011 the Roman Catholic Church changed some wording in the liturgy to bring us back closer to our Latin roots.  As a cradle Catholic, I have been saying the exact same phrases and responses for 40 years combined that with my fear of change and I was in a full blown fury and looking for a fight (which is the Christian way to resolve conflict right?).

The changes were not dramatic exactly.  Some were so minor:

OLD: And with you

NEW: And with your spirit

OLD: Cup

NEW: Chalice

???? Um ok…sure.  That is certainly worth redoing.

Some made me flip my lid:

Talking about Jesus’ blood:

OLD:  It will be shed for you and for all

NEW:  Which will be poured out for you and for many

EXCUSE ME?  I am pretty sure that Jesus died for ALL OF US!!  Who are these many?  Who isn’t part of the group that Jesus is saving?  I can’t decide if I am bothered more by the inclusion of this line or the fact that more of my Catholic friends aren’t disturbed by this!

And final the one that pushed me over the edge:

OLD: One in being with the Father

NEW: Consubstantial with the Father

Consubstantial?  Are you serious?  Let’s just make sure NO ONE gets it – lets add another layer between a sharing participating community and the Catholic Mass.  When I hear that word during mass, They Might Be Giants runs through my head over and over.

They Might Be Giants

I was a snarky bitchy mess for a while—perfect for going to church don’t you think?  Chad asked if we need to change Churches and by that he didn’t mean leave Prince of Peace for St. Francis. He meant did I need to find a new religion (anyone now humming REM?)  I seriously contemplated it.  I struggle with the Catholic view on gay marriage and women & married priests and a host (see what I did there?) of other items.  My Catholic faith and what I feel is right in my heart and brain are usually battling on some seriously sticky topics. With these new Latin like changes, it seemed that maybe that this was the proverbial straw and my time was over in the Catholic faith.

I had dinner with some Catholic friends of mine and I was whining and complaining about these changes.  My friend Karla looked at me and told me her priest said (my hazy memory paraphrase) “after Vatican II there were all sorts of Catholic up in arms about the changes.  But the changes were happening whether or not they were on board.  So you can fuss and pout and be one like one of those women with a doily on her head (he didn’t say that but that is who I pictured) that kneeled in the back of the church and prayed the rosary during mass praying for the future of the Church but suck it up buttercup (again my words) the changes were happening.”

I do have to say that I felt like I had just been bitchslapped with a simultaneous “Snap Out of It” yelled at me.

Fair enough – I don’t want to be the doily lady.  And if I choose to leave the Catholic Faith it needs to be because I cannot reconcile what I believe to be true and what the Church is professing not because of some changes in wording.

But just so we are clear, during every mass I still have They Might Be Giants running through my head in the midst of the Nicene Creed.

Irritation #531

I become quite irrationally agitated with the “back in my day” mentality.  Which is kind of ironic since I am obsessed with how much stuff has changed since I was a kid.  But Facebook is full of meme’s that make me INSANE:

-         We weren’t disrespectful to our parents cuz the would hit us with whatever was available for smarting off

o   Was that really respect or the desire not to get beaten? I go with that was fear

-         We didn’t need cell phones to find people we just look for a pile of bikes on someone’s lawn

o   Sure you can see where all your friends are but how many blocks did you have to walk to figure it out – feel like it is more efficient to just text

-         We didn’t have carseats when I was a kid and we turned out just fine

o   This is soooo ridiculous – it’s the same as the “no one cooks anymore they only microwave” (which is true in my case) but to not take advantage of the leaps in technology would be insane.  No sir I won’t listen to your fancy high quality music device – I prefer the scratchy vinyl sound

-         We didn’t have TV or Video Games – we had the outside

o   Well I am not sending my kid out unsupervised with the potential for a predator to come strolling down the street and I have my own crap around the house to do so I can’t hang outside all day

Times have changed.  That is a good thing.  It means we as a species are continuing to evolve and improve.  I am not naïve enough to think that everything developed in the last 100 year has been a stellar success and had a positive impact on humanity but I am also not naïve enough to think that the 1980s were the best of times and everyone was deliriously happy and no need for any more discoveries.

I get that in a big picture approach people that use these examples are sometimes just highlighting how fast and complex things have become relative to where they were as kids.   Just like I am quite sure my grandparents were flummoxed (fabulous word!) by the changes they saw in their life time. But I feel the tone is not one of awe or amazement more of judgment.  Maybe fear of all this technology?  Or not relating to the “kids” anymore is driving this attitude?

I went to a seminar about marketing across generations and in it I learned that Generation Edge – those that were born from 1995 to present – will have a higher IQ than any generation before it.  That lightning fast is not fast enough. Because of them growing up with four different devices feeding them information at the same time, their ability to multitask will be off the charts.

Like it or not – this is the direction of the future.  Denying it exists or not allowing your children to have appropriate exposure will only hurt you and them. So hang up your nostalgia for a life without smartphones or at least acknowledge that the way we are going is not all bad and smile when you hear your kids tell your grandkids:

Back in the day we didn’t get to teleport – we had to drive in crap traffic if we wanted to get anywhere

Then Maybe You Shouldn't Wear a Stork Dress

I love US magazine.  Totally shallow borderline shady stalker magazine.  Not sure about my fascination with it.  Stars as “real people” doing “real things” – they are just like US!   It is a quick read – I really should put quotes around the word read – and I guess it feeds my vice of gossip and voyeurism all at once.  I am not proud that I find enjoyment in the stalking of others and I remember when Princess Diana died I had a guilt that hung over me for a while.  But I kept buying the magazines and now I even have a subscription.  I’d like to think I am not a shallow person but apparently there is a secret part of me that is.

I have had another dilemma arise from my habit.  There is a section in this trashy magazine called the Fashion Police where about eight different comedians/bloggers comment on some unusual outfits worn by the rich and famous.  And when I say comment I do not mean they are supportive and complimentary – they are snarky and ugly and yes I usually giggle at more than a few of their comments and wonder why in the heck someone rich and famous would choose to dress like that.  I look forward to that section with every magazine.

Then I read this:

Sarah Millican at the BAFTAS

ACKKK!!!  Good lord – the guilt – I am one of THOSE people.   I do understand what Sarah Millican was wearing  does not have the shock/horror value as Bjork’s Stork outfit and to defend myself I see nothing wrong with her gown and I don’t always have an issue with the dresses in the Fashion Police section that the commentators seem to have.  But dear lord in heaven – another thing to add to my list of guilts.

Kim Kardashian – a name that is nails to a chalk board in my soul, a name that makes bile creep up my throat, and a name that starts a storm of outrage and hatred in my head.  However, I have never met Kim.  So my irritation that actually borders on hatred with this self-obsessed, dimwitted, blindingly wealthy for no good reason, waste of space individual is beyond irrational.  I mean come on if I found out Kim was saying these things about me cuz she looked at my FB page and saw some pictures of me I would come unglued.  She doesn’t know me or my heart or my family.  And words to hurt – don’t believe the hype.  It seems my behavior has crossed the Judgy McJudgersen line way deep into extreme hypocritical territory.

I suppose if I really wanted to psycho analyze my issues here we should start with my loathing of Kim Kardasian (where the heehaw does it come from?!?) but the idea of that is too exhausting.  And I am not willing to explore the “they chose to be famous so they can deal with the consequences” approach because I do not embrace that in its entirety.  So I can choose to give up my vice and cancel my subscription and take the high road, setting a good example for my kids, or I can continue to enjoy seeing stars trying to lead a normal life while being photographed and maniacally laugh at hideous fashion choices by people critics deem should know better all the while thankful no one captures my bad hair days for the world to see. 

Is She Like the Muffin Man?

“Do you know the lunch lady?”

This is a text I received today from Rebecca, the mother of one of Rylee’s school friends.  I have no idea where this is going or what makes her ask so I am intrigued.  I tell her no I do not – why?  And she tells me that the lunch lady has just given Rylee a birthday present.  WTH???  Huh??

Rylee’s birthday is in the summer – July 31^st to be specific – so her teacher assigned her and all the other summer birthdays a day in the last month of school where the student can bring in treats to celebrate his or her birthday.  Today is Rylee’s birthday celebration – she brought pink donuts with sprinkles.  Rebecca goes on to tell me that Rylee is wearing a birthday hat – oh my gosh – my daughter is totally milking this unofficial birthday thing and getting presents from the lunch lady! 

Well two nights ago Rylee did pray to God that she will have a good birthday today.  Apparently He answered in the form of a gift from the lunch lady. 

I am wondering what on earth this present could be and does the lunch lady keep pre-wrapped gifts in the back for all of the birthday children and I really hope Ry knows the lunch lady’s real name because I can not bring myself to have her write a thank you note to Dear Lunch Lady.

UPDATE:
Just sent to me by the AlphaBest (after school care) Teacher:
"I decorated her spot for her for snack time!"

The Deer Hunter's Son

(editor's note: I've been mulling over this post since November.  Time to therapeutically write it down. -CMM)

Zachary was so excited about going hunting.  Where did this excitement come from?  From video games?  From a friend? Maybe he has the hunter's gene.
The hunting gene in me is recessive.  My father did a great job of raising me as a hunter.  Our family has a long tradition of hunting told many times in many stories.  I spent many weekends trekking out to a lease  or friend's ranch to hunt whatever was in season.  I knew early on that it didn't interest me; but I went anyway in order to bond with (and further understand) my dad (more on that general subject later [we meet in the middle]).   Hunting in Texas largely revolves around waking up for the morning hunt long before dawn; killing time all day; and then hunting late afternoon to past sunset.  While I appreciate hunting and it's inherent connection to the natural world, I have never been drawn to the kill.  I am perfectly content to observe and occasionally take a shot with a camera.  Some of my most vivid memories are sitting in a tree stand watching the world around me wake up.  I just don't feel the need to take a life from that world. While I feel that my dad is disappointed, I think he tries to understand (that meet in the middle thing again).  It is a part of me, made me what I am- I just don't actively use the skills.
Due to the cost of a hunting lease, I had not been deer hunting since I turned 18 and got kicked off dad's lease.  I had resigned hunting to memories in my past.  But Zachary and an opportunity would bring it back to the present. Zachary was six and was expressing an interest in hunting.  I think it stemmed from his new found interest in guns brought on by cartoons and " fighting bad guys." If hunting allowed him to shoot something, then he was all for it.   Of course his Papa was very excited at this prospect.

Zachary and Papa just after target practice.  Note the ecstatic grin.

 
Last thanksgiving (2011), the Bakers invited us to their ranch for a hunt to cull some older doe and genetically inferior bucks.  This would be Zachary's opportunity to "ride along" and learn.  I have to admit that I panicked a bit.  After twenty years, would I be able to pass on anything useful and respectable to him?  Maybe I should stay back and let papa take him.  I decided that it was my job as father to be the one to take him.  So we loaded up early Saturday morning and made the 1 1/2 hour drive to arrive at the ranch before sunrise.
Zachary was too excited to sleep.  So- all the way there, dad, Todd, and I advised him all we could to prepare him.  Be quiet.  Be still.  Follow my lead.  You are just watching this time.  If I pinch your arm, freeze.  Move slow.  You might get cold.  Etc.  Zachary took it all in and got really pumped. We got to the "sendera" blind just in time.

got into the blind juuust barely in time

Dad and Todd pulled away after we settled in.   Zachary did incredibly well in the blind.  He would make Papa really proud.  And the ranch did not disappoint*.  Near immediately, doe and trophy whitetail came in all over the place.  I should mention that the Baker ranch is a managed lease- it has a high fence so that it's population can be monitored and improved through selective harvesting.   The end result is that the average deer on the ranch would make most hunters heads spin.  We would be selectively harvesting today.   
While I had explained ahead of time what was allowed to be killed and what was not, Zachary could not wait for me to shoot something.   The older crafty does quickly left, leaving only young does and trophy deer.  Thus- my opportunity came and went pretty quickly.  Not good for the boys' mood.
We heard some shots in the distance; followed by a text from my dad checking up on us.  Really? A TEXT.  From my DAD.  In the DEER BLIND!  A lot has changed in twenty years.  I guess I should have been blogging on the fly from there.

well- if dad can call; I can take a phonecam pic

With the opportunity for a kill gone, Zachary settled down and got cold.  So- we came down from the blind and walked around a bit until Papa came to pick us up. Z was completely down for the rest of the morning.  The fact that Dad had bagged 1 deer and Todd had bagged 2 didn't help matters.  Zachary started to come around with an "Ewww gross!" as we cleaned the deer.  I think he would have poked the guts with a stick had the smell not driven him away.  He just sat in the back seat of the truck watching through a closed window.
The rest of the family came to visit for the daytime hours.    We had a good time exploring the ranch even though the wind had turned blistering cold.  When the afternoon approached, we debated whether to go ahead and go home or to stay for the evening hunt.  Because Zachary was so disappointed about not getting anything, I decided we should stay.  We're already here, right?  
Dad dropped us off at the sendera blind again, figuring it was still the best location for teaching a fidgety 1st grader how things are done.  Just as before,the deer came in relatively quickly.  An eleven point buck kept hanging around like he owned the place; looking after his harem of yearling does.  They all startled a bit; and then went back to eating.  Come to find out, an old crafty doe was circling the clearing to scope things out.  She finally came in.  Right in front of the 11 point.  It's almost like she knew that would  protect her.**  In order to not disappoint z again, I got ready.  Gun in position. Settling in to scope her.  Taking off safety.  Warning Z.  Z promptly goes fetal in the bottom of the blind to guard against the sound.  Just me and the doe now.  Old 270- don't fail me now.  I squeeze the trigger***.
Either the scope was off (not sighted in for 20 years), or my aim was off ( untested for 20 years), or the doe moved ( that has to be it) because I hit her high.  I was aiming for the heart ( easier) but ended up clipping her backbone ( harder but cleaner kill).  This paralyzed her from the shoulders down.  Zachary was so excited, he wanted to jump down immediately.  I told him to wait to see if she got up again; but it was obvious she could not stand.  Zachary won out; we started out toward the doe.  I had another shell in the chamber just in case she jumped up.    She was still as we approached.  When we got close, we discovered she was fully alert but resting.  She started to scramble to try to get away.  We were way too close to use the rifle again; it would obliterate her.  I didn't want to back off again ( sun was setting) but also did not want her to suffer a long drawn out death.  I decided the most humane solution was to speed up her death.  I took out my pocket knife ( a leatherman of all things!****) and approached.  The doe let out the most pitiful cry I have ever heard.  

She was pleading for her life.  

That stopped me in my tracks.  What was I doing? What was I about to do in front of my son?  Z was still there- a look of excited wonder in his face.  He still excited that the gun had been fired.   I continued on- I slowly put my boot on her head to hold it down on the ground.  I reached down and slit her throat.  Bleeding out was the most humane way to go.  The doe's life slowly faded as her blood ran down the hill. I kneeled down and wrapped my arms around Z as we watched the doe pass.  I had huge flashbacks to the hunter scenes in the movie Avatar- and told the Doe that her life was not wasted.  It taught a lesson.  Between Zachary and I, I am not sure who received the bigger dose.
Dad had not even gotten to his blind after dropping off Todd.  He circled back and picked us up for cleaning the doe. It was almost too efficient of a kill- only 45 minutes had elapsed from drop off at the blind to finishing the gutting of the deer.  All of it based on the "peer pressure" I felt from Zachary to perform my fatherly duties as a hunter teaching his son about hunting.  I don't hold it against him; who am I to squelch his new found passion? With any luck, my notions won't hinder him.  He is free to choose his own path- be it on the sidewalk or in the pasture.

I pulled Zachary aside later to talk with him about what happened; to see if he had questions or trauma.  The does cry was still in my head.  He was still so excited that he went hunting.  Excited that we used the gun.  Excited that I killed something.  I asked if the throat slitting bothered him; He seemed indifferent to it, describing it like it happened in a video game and not in real life.  Zachary started to plan his next visit to the ranch and asked " can I shoot next time?"  He has the dominant hunting gene; so I reckon he will soon. -CMM

Notes:
*. as we were watching the sendera, various deer came and went.  Then out of nowhere, a blackbuck bounded across.  Just like a bonus points animal in one of the arcade hunting games.  
**. Since the lease was managed, the right to shoot the 11 point could most likely be sold to a big-city hunter.  I could not take the risk of injuring (thus buying) that deer.  
***. squeezing the trigger: something dad always told me to do in order to not jerk the gun and miss the shot.  " when it goes off, it should almost be a surprise to you.". I never fully got it until this hunt.  Now it's my turn to teach Z how to ignore the impulse of youth and to just 'squeeze' it.
****. Leatherman: a multi-tooled pocket knife; an industrial version of a swiss army knife.  my dad is fanatical about leathermans.  I have a whole set built out of his castoffs.

The New Now

I was reading a humorous article about the shenanigans of someone's grandparents in which the author stated, "poll your remaining grandparents to see if they have ever..."
I stopped reading and felt all hollow. It hit me- I don't have any remaining grandparents left.
I can hear Mom say, "tough shit- I don't have any parents left." True.
But Nanny is gone. Nanny has always been there. I'm nearly 40- she was always there. It's kinda like I just lost her all over again. The crying and mourning is long over; I'm not looking for consolation. I'm just trying to cope with the new now- the one with one more empty chair. -CMM