Chips

Over Thanksgiving I said that while the show Friends is funny, it's very homophobic and hasn't aged well. The religious side of the family didn't know what homophobic meant (it means you're an ass btw), which then brought up their shock and dismay at the same sex kiss the Macy's parade broadcasted. Their opinion didn't surprise me, but I do not agree with them and didn't want them to think I did, especially in my own home. So I stared them dead in the eye and said: SO?
They start trying to back pedal a little bit, saying it's a sign of the times, they're a different generation, excuses/justifications for their general homophobia.
And once again I said: So what?

Someone else quickly redirected the confrontation and shut down the conversation. I understand why, hot button issue, black and white opinions, lots of people and small impressionable children around. But later I was chafing a bit that my small impressionable kids even heard excuses for homophobia initially.

It was pointed out to me that one conversation isn't "going to change hearts and minds"
Which is true. BUT.
Later that night the same family used a term I find derogatory and outdated. I had one of my kids in my lap, and without much thought I blurted "that's not a nice word." And when they tried to sweep it away I simply said "it's not a nice word" again and it was done.

And then I thought, what if...what if the way to dismantle systemic injustices was to simply call out the microaggressions and behaviors with an undertone of misogyny, racism, homophobia, unkindness, etc, that bolster them? Rather than wait for the acceptance light to go on whilst scrapping in opposite corners, you keep chipping away at the roots that have allowed them to go on for so long in the first place? Make those accepted microaggressions unacceptable, would we see how deep the problem is and make strides to change?

I think it's at the very least, it's worth a shot.

Threenager

AAAAANNND....
She's 3!

Happy Birthday my Darling Girl!

Mommy Wars

I know the mommy wars have been around* forever, but social media made them hyper competitive and omnipresent. If you aren't humble bragging about being super mom with a #trope on social media, then why even bother? Which is total bullshit by the way. But whether you like it or not, the mommy wars have a way of finding you. Though the good news is even when they do find you, you don't actually have to compete (even though most people do because it's a vicious, vicious trap).

Me? I'm a just-enough mom. Just enough that you can't** mom shame me, while simultaneously setting expectations just low enough no one asks me to do anything either. Just enough. And then, when I am inevitably in charge of some class party/treat bag/bake sale/nonsense, I will absolutely rock it because I am an awesome hostess and will celebrate the shit out of whatever it is, and blow people's minds.

Just enough FTW

*My dad has a cousin one month older and one month younger than him because their moms (3 sisters) were in fierce competition with each other, over everything, and all the time.
**well you can, but not without being petty as fuck which then completely nullifies the superiority high of mom shaming. 

Upstairs/Downstairs

Girl 1 loves football. Ok she doesn't really love it. But it's pretty much the only tv we've put on in the house when she's awake so by default all tv is football to her.

Anyway, Sunday is football. Dr soc cheers for the Browns, I cheer for the Panthers and our teams usually play at the same time. So when they do, dr soc suffers through watches the Browns game on the downstairs tv, and I multitask while the game is on in the background watch the Panthers game upstairs. When dr soc watches "daddy's team" he is locked in and doesn't want to answer the litany of questions from the toddler (my kid talks a lot, to the surprise of no one), so girl 1 typically watches "mommy's team" upstairs with me since I'm not paying that much* attention. And mommy's team scores, so there's more cheering.

*see: multitasking while the game is on in the background

Anyway
 
Last Sunday girl 1 came downstairs before halftime, probably trying to avoid her nap tbh, saw Mike and excitedly said:
girl 1: Touchdown daddy! Touchdown upstairs. Not touchdown downstairs. 

Bwahahahaha!

Bleed Blue

My dad was an election official and our polling place was literally up the street. So I remember walking up there to bring him lunch and visit when we were kids. My dad rarely took a day off work, so that he was taking a whole work day off to do this maybe instilled in me voting is just what you do.

So you don't have to preach to me about going to vote. I will. I have. I just did. I've voted in every election I've been eligible to do so. Dad always made sure to send my sister and I absentee ballots all our college years. In fact, I think absentee ballot is the only way I voted my first few elections. As an idealistic 17 year old I registered as an Independent so I could only vote in the general election for a while there. But I'd still vote. Eventually I switched to Democrat so I could vote in the primaries, even thought I knew my blue party vote stood a snowball's chance in hell of counting in my Old Kentucky* solid red Home state.

And here it is, election day again, and I'm voting blue in a red area. The state is purplish (reddish purple really, but there is some blue in North Carolina. Some), but just over the county line more rural suburbia where I live is definitely red.     

I wonder what it's like to have a vote that counts?

Civic Duty done!** I took both girls with me because I think it's important for them to see me do so.

Principles over practicality.

*For a state that proudly claims to "bleed blue" they certainly vote red. 😣
** The sticker lady asked girl 1 if she or mommy got the*** sticker. Really? 1 sticker? You're going to break my child's heart and not offer her her own sticker? You have a whole roll! And it's not like enough people even vote in the first place and like you're going to run out?
***I let girl 1 have it when we left our polling place, but she gave it back to me when I left for work.  

My Little Pony

So girl 1 is all about My Little Pony at the moment. In the spirit of full disclosure I totally love watching it with her and we sing the whole theme song together. Plus Pinkie Pie is my spirit pony - true fact. Anyway. I was zipping her into her purple jacket and asked:

me: Honey do you want to be Twilight Sparkle for Halloween this year?
girl 1: YES!!!!!
me: Okay sweetie, mommy will make your costume.
girl 1: Oh thank you mommy! You will be Pinkie Pie. And Daddy Apple Jack!
me:  Okay darling.
--I think of the baby's wardrobe and know we have all white for her--
me: Your sister can be Rarity. 
girl 1: Okay! And Jules can be Rainbow Dash!

So it was decreed. Halloween 2018 we were My Little Ponies. I made the costumes while on leave and while the kids were at the sitter, and girl 1 was SO EXCITED she wanted to wear and show her costume off the whole week before Halloween.

Twilight Sparkle (pre-princess w/wings mainly because I didn't feel like it), Pinkie Pie carrying Rarity, & Apple Jack walking Rainbow Dash (our Fluttershy was sick) 

And you want to know who got the most attention trick or treating? The dog!😆

Color Scheme

My friends bought a thing, aka a new house, so they're selling their old one. To actually sell the old house they have to repaint the entire place gray because people would rather buy that than their meticulously-thought-out-color-schemed-by-actual-designers one. Because people like to think they are creative and original when 80% of people's favorite color is blue and they're just going to put in whatever's trendy (and ultimately dated) anyway. 

  

Whatever. While discussing this with my girlfriends I suggested the color "Monterrey Bisque" because: "it's beige as fuck." My mom painted the entire house that due to her lack of imagination (which she admits) and is afraid of color which I can prove because she told me the neutral tiles I suggested for the back splash had "too much color." 🙄 

Anyway. We came up with our own designer-educated-suburban-color-pallet. Including: 

"Beige as Fuck" 

"Fuckit. Just paint it white"

"Suburban Sunkiss" (pale yellow)  

"Just a bit of green for pizzazz"

Happy painting!

10 years later

So. In 2008, that is 10, yes, 10 years ago, I started this blog with 100 things about me. 
Some things in that 100 haven't changed. Such as: 

• My favorite color is pink.
• I talk all the time unless I am exhausted or mad as hell.
• I do whatever Jeanne tells me (PS: buy her yarn!)
• I'm allergic to cats (including that mother f*cking one)
• Text talk is one of my biggest pet peeves.

Some things are in the past and therefore cannot change. Such as: 

• My appendix ruptured and had to be removed when I was 6.
• I had my belly button pierced until I was 21 when a drunk wrestling match went horribly, horribly wrong. 

Some parts of things have changed. Like: 

• In 2008: I know so much random pop culture stuff, but not as much as my friend LB. 
• In 2018: I know practically nothing pop culture unless I heard it on NPR. LB still knows more than me though so I have her explain things. Or have my (much) younger coworkers explain things to me (occasionally I get to tell them stories of my youth).  
• In 2008: I don't judge my friends. But everyone else is fair game. 
• In 2018: I don't cast my judgement net as broadly. I realized for the most part no one really knows anyone's story. So when I do judge it's typically warranted or I'm just being a bit (or lot) of an asshole.

And some things are just not the same at all. Like: 

• My dad was alive in 2008. He was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia in 2010 and up until he passed away in 2015 it changed so much. It changed my parent/child relationship with both my parents. It lead to some serious crisis's. I found courage I didn't know I had. The fights my mom and I got into. He died right before father's day and while I was pregnant with little turkey I'll never forget being there when he died, and how it it was one of the saddest and strongest moments of my life. I miss him so much and always will. 
• But the biggest most changing thing that has happened in 10 years is that I married the love of my life in 2012 and we have two children! 
• Because when I started this blog I had just broken an engagement. It HURT for a long time. It was hard. I grieved over my could have been, I vented. I cried. I was angry. I wished a lot. I wondered. I doubted. 
• BUT! Ultimately, many, many, much more wonderful things were a result of that broken engagement. Like having an epiphany. Discovering what I truly wanted in a a husband. I celebrated things. And came up with multiple, (often time) hilarious, random lists. So the day came and went and life moved on. 
• And life got better. I met dr.soc and we clicked pretty quick. He had 19 out of  21 of my husband checklist. I was so happy engaged to him and swirling around in the bubble of tulle. Sometimes I'm a great wife and other times not so much. Our marriage isn't perfect (no one's is) and there were tough times I didn't talk about here. But our marriage is good, it's strong, our anniversaries keep coming and I know I wouldn't love him the way I do if I hadn't given back that other ring.  
• AND, dr soc and I created our own family! Which changed everything. Parenting will probably be what this blog will be about more often than not. Sometimes I'm a great mommy and have instagram to prove it. Other times I'm bad mommy and phone it in. It's all about finding the balance. But now my future think is beyond my own lifetime. I'm willing to fight for things, to voice my opinion, and try to make the world a better place now for my girls. Motherhood is hard and very challenging at times, but it's also one of the most fulfilling and wonderful things in my life.  

So. Ten years later, here I am! I hope my life is just as happy in another 10 years. Thanks for reading y'all!  

High Hopes

Girl-2 is a burper. Which is perfectly normal but since Girl-1 rarely burped (she still doesn't burp much really) any burping, especially the juicy ones, we notice more. Dr soc and I (okay, more me than him) find burps hi-lar-ious, so we (okay, more me once again) have high hopes Girl-2 will one day give us a "Ben & Jerry's burp."

The backstory: Dr soc and I were on the patio of Ben & Jerry's one afternoon (either engaged or newly married) with a mom and her 2 kids, a boy and a girl. Out of nowhere, the girl (about 8) lets out this monster burp. I'm talking John-Belushi-frat-boy-dragon-roar-style burp, followed with a dainty "'s'cuse me!" I absolutely lost it, laughing so hard I couldn't stop. Dr soc was laughing too, but not nearly to my extent. The mom was mortified, but the girl was quite proud of herself judging from the smug smile she was giving her brother. From that moment on, that "Ben & Jerry's burp" was deemed the pinnacle of burps and utter hilarity.

So here's hoping one day, Girl-2 (or Girl-1, really, just one of them), gives a "Ben & Jerry burp" and I laugh as hard as I did that one afternoon!

Mother Russia

I went viral in my own way with the last blog post telling Facebook (and the world in general) to fuck off with the diet ads/products body shaming on my feed.

I checked my feed an hour or so later (because I'm on social media all the time and always close to my phone) and the targeted body shaming ads were (almost)* gone! Now the targeted ads were how to organize/take charge/fail less at my messy/chaotic family life. Body shaming ads to mom shaming ads.

*lets face it, there will always be a degree of body shaming even after the ashes of the patriarchy are scattered across the desert of men's tears

So hey, even though we know that Russia is totally messing around with us (though the chumps Russia fooled typically staunchly refuse to believe that) at least they are paying attention!
 

Go Viral

It's a not so secret dream of mine to have one of my social media posts go viral. Or make it onto the huffington post funniest parents and/or women lists. However nowadays people go viral for the wrong reasons (major embarrassment, social gaffe, racist/sexist/idiotic/etc behavior followed by (hopefully) public outrage), so "going viral" probably shouldn't be on my life's accomplishment's list.
  
Anyway, I'm on my social media a lot right now (I'm on leave, newborns are pretty boring, the toddler is every bit a 2.5 year old so I have to vent and daytime tv sucks). All of those platforms have ads which I normally gloss over and dismiss. But this time I noticed all the ads were for diet products, workout routines, waist trainers, supplements etc, all these...things in an effort to motivate me to become an even "better" me.

And I'm like, I just had a baby. She's not even a week old, we're talking days. I housed a tiny human in me and literally pushed them out of my lady parts. Some might even consider that the epitome of what a lady's body can do. Here I am, sleep deprived, mentally exhausted, sore everywhere, ice packs on my raw nipples, wearing diapers (postpartum life is disgusting y'all), super hormonal, in addition to raising two very needy small humans to not be assholes and I'm supposed to be pretty too? WTF?
   
So I posted this on facebook: 

All the diet ads/products on my feed imply I should be getting back to societal set beauty standards and be ashamed of my current body for producing a healthy baby. 

Guess what world? Fuck off!

Us ladies giving a middle finger to that mindset
I also like the prominence of my double chin and how I don't give a rat's ass 

I tagged my husband (because when it involves the kids that's pretty much what we do), and got a respectable amount of likes and comments applauding my fuck off. In fact, one of dr soc's friends copied and pasted my status and gave me credit on her own wall and she got lots of likes too! So in my own way, I'm going to count that as going viral.

Achievement unlocked!

Party of four!

Yup, we're a party of 4 now! Our 2nd little lady arrived on July 23, 2018 at 9:57 pm, right on the cusp of leo! She's perfectly healthy, so tiny and our hearts couldn't be fuller. Turns out my maternal instinct was way off since I knew this one was a boy. But meh, she kept making moves like she was going to come out for 2 weeks and getting distracted. So I started referring to the baby as my little trickster towards the end, makes sense my girl would fool us all.

We're all adjusting as well as we can. Big sister likes little sister well enough but sees her more as a novelty at the moment. She "helps" in her own special toddler way, she'll bring us the right size diaper when changing the baby, and she'll yell sing her ABC's to calm the baby down in a meltdown. She has even managed to wait on occasion when she wants something but the baby is monopolizing my hands/boobs/time/overall being. Dr Soc can't feed the baby at the moment (we haven't started bottles yet) but he is secure enough in his masculinity to embrace being outnumbered forevermore (probably-the dog's a female but won't live forever, and who knows how the kids will identify themselves). And I'm recovering at whatever pace I want, and taking a nap (and/or eating) whenever I can.

Thank Heaven for Little Girls!

I Curse You

My daughter is not good at waking up. She's groggy and fussy and usually a little hangry when she does. Any one of those isn't a preferable state for anyone, but a combo, in a 2.5 year old none the less, just sucks. When she was a baby the post sleep fussiness could usually be soothed with some snuggles and a snack of sorts. But now that she's a full blown toddler and can talk (a lot. My kid talks A LOT)... That groggy/fussy/hangry combo is incessant whining and an overall miserable disposition.

It doesn't matter what it is, where we are, or what we are doing, she is having none of it. Wake up in the morning and it starts with not wanting to get dressed. But she also wants clothes and out of jammies (if she still has them on). But no getting dressed. Yes dressed. Doesn't want to pick them out. But not what mommy picks out. She needs to pick them out. But she doesn't want to. Not mommy. Her. Not her. Not mommy. At some point I force clothes someone selected through kicks and tears and then battle again a few moments later with breakfast/shoes/going to the baby sitters/whatever the day entails all over again. It's gas-lighting at it's finest.

Recently I've been trying to take her out on my own and expand her world more. And I really want to enjoy these times with my darling girl, especially since we only have about 2-3 more weeks left of her being an only child. But god she can make that really hard. Because when we go on these mommy and me adventures, we typically have some sort of drive to the said adventure (suburbia, for all it's niceties severely lacks in walk-able and public transport accessible adventures). So she tends to fall asleep in the car, so when we get to the adventure she was so excited for...she is miserable and bloody hates it. 

Seriously, whatever it is. This girl will throw a fit. And want nothing to do with this and everything to do with this simultaneously and express that sentiment several times over with def-con 10 whining. It doesn't matter if it was a fleet of unicorns with ice cream covered in chocolate sauce and sprinkles in a bounce castle in Disney World. With a puppy because why the fuck not. It's a NO.

So I curse you car seat nap. Curse you with the fire of a 1000 suns and may the flames of hell consume you. You turn my darling girl into a total jerk which brings her waddling pregnant mommy to tears. Curse you.

Old Wives Tales 2.0

We're waiting until Little Lion (or Crab depending when they are born*) to find out the sex of this baby. But just like their big sister, we have to rely on the old wives tales and speculate again.
*please just stay in until mommy's birthday kiddo!

Here are the 2018 old wives tales:

1. Sleep position: Sleep on my right side = girl, Sleep on my left side = boy
• I guess my right side more, because my back arches weirdly when on my left side. And once I'm on a side it's too much effort to roll over. But I'm actually most comfortable on my back. Girl
2. Nausea: Sick as a dog = girl. Happy no nausea preggo? = boy
• Remember my Long Jacket blog? Yeah. I was still sick the first trimester but it was a  different sick than my first pregnancy. That one I would puke at dinner time without fail, but this one was far less puking. (yay!) However overall I had a gross cloud of nausea all the time. Girl
3. Food cravings: sweet cravings and citrus = girl. Salty cravings = boy 
• Salt. OMG the salt. I'll still have a sweet tooth, and I like my orange juice in the morning and lemonade all the time. But for a while there I wanted nothing but chips and I may or may not have contemplated pouring the salt shaker directly into my mouth a few times. Boy
4. Food again: If you crave meat it's a boy. If you'd rather not: girl.
• Little Turkey I had a big meat aversion so no deli meat and soft cheese was no big deal. This pregnancy: I have never wanted that turkey sandwich I'm not allowed to have more. (still no love for soft cheese though) And hot dogs? Yes please (just nuke the hell out of them (or "forget" that guideline like I did because dammit I'm growing a human and I will eat what I want) Boy   
5. Soft or dry skin: soft = girl, dry = boy
• Dry. Dry, dry dry. I swear this kid is sucking all the moisture out of me now mater how much water I drink. Boy
6. Girls steel your beauty, boys enhance 
• I'm breaking out more than usual, but I actually put on makeup for a while there. And I've been told I'm "absolutely glowing" on several occasions. So I say boy because people tell me I'm pretty.  
7. Graceful swan= girl. Clumsy = boy
• Bending is highly overrated. Boy
8. A fuller full face = girl. Normal face = boy
• A little fuller but not like a puffer fish fuller. I've had mostly a normal face.  Boy
• I may have just asked my coworkers this for clarification and they all said "uuuh...normal?" So there may be some bull shit in there but I'm taking it.  
9. Moody? = girl. Even keel = boy
• Would it be considered moody if you don't give any fucks? Yeah when there are feels I have all of the feels. But mostly I've just given zero fucks for almost everything. Boy 
10. How I carry the belly: high = girl, low = boy
• Right right in the middle again. Neutral 
11. How I carry the belly "sports" edition: cute round basketball shape belly = boy. Not as cute wider pointier football shape belly = girl 
• Adorable basketball belly. Boy
12. Weight gain in the front = boy, weight gain that spread out = girl 
• I don't have ankles anymore. My wedding bands came off the first trimester. And my little sister's maternity pants are snug because I will always be taller and older. Girl. 
13. Conception age and the year are both even or odd = girl. An even/odd combination = boy
• I became pregnant at 35 in the year 2017. So two odds combo is a Girl
14. Heartbeat: 140+ = girl 140- = boy
• Most heartbeat readings have been less than 140.  Boy
15. Mommy's dreams: whatever you dream you're having-that's it.
• Somewhere in my nightly bat-shit crazy dreams I dreamed boy. Boy

So in the girl column we have: 4
And in the boy column we have: 10
And neutral for shits and giggles : 1

So...guess we'll see soon enough no matter what!

Drip Drip Drip

Okay. So. There are about a billion  polarizing/repugnant/cruel/wrong/racist/sexist/misogynistic/terrifying/dehumanizing/just plain awful things that are a result of the 2016 election. Hopefully the November 2018 election gives this deluge of awfulness a chance to slow down and in 2020 we can turn off this damn hose and start the slow process of healing.

But I've got one more water metaphor for you. And it's that I think one of the most heartbreaking takeaways from the 2016 election is how my individual vote meant absolutely everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. Because my vote, along with everyone else's (who actually did vote that is) is one drop in the bucket. 

Think about it. One drop. Not enough to make a real difference in a bucket. But if you only have a set number of drops to be distributed across a few buckets, the drops are likely to unevenly balance, and one bucket becomes fuller and wins by default. 
Here is a visual example involving maths: 

There are 10 drops and 4 buckets with different colors and levels of viability. Say those drops are dispensed as so: 

                                    drip 
  drip                           drip

  drip                           drip        drip

  drip           drip          drip       drip

(viable) (not viable) (WTF) (not viable)

Red wins by default because as individual buckets, blue, green, and orange each have less than the red total. So by placing a drop/vote in a nonviable bucket thinking it wouldn't matter anyway and didn't count... it really didn't. And yet it really did.

If you voted I'm glad you did so. I really am. But I'm also really pissed at you if threw your vote into a nonviable bucket and screwed up the math. Because now we have about a billion polarizing/repugnant/cruel/wrong/racist/sexist/misogynistic/terrifying/dehumanizing/just plain awful things to deal with.

Thanks.

Cruelty

This asshole president is cruelty personified.
And the absolute HORRORS of this administration continue and are escalating.

The "executive order" to stop separating and irreversibly traumatizing families was a policy implemented by king cruelty himself. It just throws the newest traumatized families in jail together and ignores the atrocities already committed.

I cannot think about it without becoming angry. It's infuriating, horrifying and it breaks my heart over and over.  I won't argue with anyone who thinks the execution of the zero-tolerance policy was acceptable and/or the aforementioned executive order deserves a gold star for the crisis of it's own making. I can't make anyone care about another human being, and it's a waste of time and energy to try to do so.   

But I will say this to anyone who defends this current policy, from the bottom of my breaking heart: FUCK YOU.

The One

For the record: I do not believe in "the one." Neither does my husband. And as of today he has been my husband for 6 years, and we're still counting. But anyway, I still had a pretty good feeling about dr soc pretty early into our relationship. We just...worked.

But there are two distinct instances when I was pretty much: this is my husband.

The first one was when were texting a lot (and we still do - only now it's more "we're out of milk" and "has the toddler pooped yet?" and fewer flirty "forget your pants" but those still exist) and I realized he really didn't use text talk, one of my biggest pet peeves. (omg I h8 the u 4 u with the 🔥 of 1000 ☼s) My heart skipped a beat I thought: oooo I'm keeping him.

And the second is when he said he had absolutely no desire to go camping.
I was done. I knew: I'm going to marry him!

Happy Anniversary my dearest!

Mischief

Dr soc and I were driving and the 2 year old randomly yelled "mischief!" from the backseat. Clear as a bell like she knew what she was talking about. First: we were impressed at her vocabulary and started laughing. Then we paused and thought, umm, should we be concerned?

So I did what any parent in the age of social media does: posted it.
"She just randomly yelled "mischief!" Should I be concerned?'" 

It got the likes, 'reactions' and comments I figured it would, because it's random, funny and involves a n adorable toddler which is the content of liked, "reacted" and commented posts. But about half of the comments referenced Harry Potter.

Which I see the connection, with the "mischief managed" thing from the marauder's map debuted in the Prisoner of Azkaban. And I'm a book nerd and most people just assume a Harry Potter obsession is a requirement for working in the library.

But I'm not obsessed with Harry Potter. I own the books and I've seen the movies and I like them well enough. But that's it, I just like them. And if we're being honest I had to look up which book the marauders' map debuted in the first place. 

So sorry if I disappointed all you die hard Potter fans, but it wasn't a Potter reference. It was just my delightful toddler yelling an impressive word.

Salty

I've been craving salty things more this pregnancy which makes me think this baby is a boy. But we'll find out soon enough one way or the other.

Anyway here are some of the other things I'm salty about :

• my house not having air conditioning because it's builder grade and the builders were dipshits with shoddy workmanship and didn't give a damn about actual living conditions
• the darling furnace growing in me tossing around all it's bony parts and causing general uncomfortablness  
• my allergies acting up and not being able to take a damn bit of the good drugs
• my husband not having to get a TDap shot for either of my pregnancies. (I'm really salty about that one)
• the mommy wars
• seeing all the Woodford Reserve at the Derby and knowing I can't have any for a while
• having the pee all the time
• the patriarchy
• racism
• sexism
• being thirsty all the time and so totally bored with water
• the hypocrisy of the GOP
• people not using their turn signals
• internalized misogyny  
• autocorrect 
• autotune and theses not singing just stupidly talking which is not singing on popular radio
• people (gleefully - I might add) telling me I'm getting bigger
• anyone invading my personal bubble
• my body being up for public discussion
• toxic masculinity
• being hungry all the time and not wanting any of snacks I brought
• bending
• people assuming I'm an invalid and incapable of doing anything because I'm pregnant
• people not helping me even though I'm pregnant - I want to sit and don't make me run around 

Family Resemblance

I can usually see a family resemblance like everyone else when comparing people. Except in me. And my family to some extent. It's not like I don't see resemblance at all, but I just don't see the strong/twin/carbon copy/clone moniker people typically assign. I've never been able to see that really. People say my sister and I look alike, but I can almost always tell who's who even if it's just one of us in the picture.

me on the left, my sister on the right
see also: I am taller and older

My husband captioned this Mother's Day 2017 picture with "the resemblance is strong" 

me, my girl, my mom

Yeah, I see we look related. But the mom-clone thing is lost on me.          

And yesterday I posted a side-by-side Easter picture of my daughter and I at 2 years old: 

I wonder who had the better basket?
And isn't that orange kitchen great?

Everyone, and I mean everyone, made some sort of remark about that being the same kid. Even my mom (who at times is the most obtuse person out there) said we are spitting images of each other. And it's not that I don't see any resemblance at all. But I legit do not see twins. I see two extremely adorable but distinctly different little girls.    

Who knows if I'll ever be able to see it. I wonder if I'll see twins in my own kids. But it doesn't matter really, little lion is going to be a cutie just like little turkey. Twins or not.

Taller and Older

When I lived in Kentucky occasionally I would run into people I had gone to school with (k-12) or they had worked or taught there. But as time goes on you forget names, so most people knew I was one of the T-girls, but couldn't remember if I was the big or little one. When we were kids it was easier to tell us apart because I was "taller and older." And for the record, I still am.

Fast forward to today. As grown adults my sister and I have very similar body shapes overall. (and similar styles too it seems since we both wore the exact same sweater from stitch fix at thanksgiving) Since I'm the first kid and the first granddaughter on both sides, I didn't get a lot of hand-me downs. And though my little girl is our first born she has 2 older female cousins who gave her their outgrown wardrobes, so most of her clothes are hand-me downs. When I visited my sister a month ago she gave me a bunch of her maternity clothes which is great because because she had summer clothes and baby 2 is due in July, aka peak-stupid-hot-summer. So in a little bit of role reversal, I was getting hand-me downs from my little sister. We're going through them and I held up a pair of pants and asked if they were capris from the proportions.

Her response: no, they're regular length, my ass just got that big. Holy sh*t my ass got that big?! (she also was the one to tell me to put coco butter there to minimize stretch marks) 

A week later I was wearing a different pair of pants from her and they were tight. So I texted her: I'm wearing the maternity khakis from you and they are snug. So even if your ass got larger when pregnant, know mine is wider. 😂

Looks like I'm always going to be the bigger sister!

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby!

Just like with Little Turkey, dr soc and I are going to find out the sex of Little Lion when they are born. So it either amuses me or annoys me when people have a negative opinion on not knowing the sex of our child. And yeah, driving people nuts is part of the fun. But this pregnancy I'm less amused and much more annoyed at those opinions. Probably because that opinion is usually accompanied with the additional opinion of what the opinioner wants (or assumes what we want) the sex to be.

Because we honestly don't care. We've never really cared what the sex of our children would be. Little Turkey it didn't matter because, well, that's just a privilege of being the first born. But we don't have a preference with Lion either. I'm one of 2 girls and dr soc is one of 2 boys (and we all turned out pretty good), so it's not like we think two of the same is a bad thing. 

So it upsets me a little bit when people say they want or assume we want one or the other (usually a boy). I mean, do people think we'll be disappointed one way or the other? Do they think dr soc wouldn't love another little girl as much as a boy? That I would love a little boy less because of my own sex?

I mean, it's a little human, one who will make our world a better place just for being in it. You don't need to have a specific sex for that. 

Two Ways

It bothers me a lot when someone says their first amendment right is being stifled if people are offended by their words/actions/beliefs. Because it's not. You can still have those words/actions/beliefs and you won't be thrown in prison for expressing those (at least 90% of the time- threatening a white person may get you in some trouble). And I also find it incredibly irksome when those same people who said/did/believe something vile are offended when their particular stance is deemed not politically correct.

Because if you are going to take offense at something being politically correct, you can't take offense when you are called exactly what you are: racist/sexist/asshole etc.

It's a two way street people.

Good Cars

I'm not a "car person." see: just how "helpful" I can be and why I lost my car rights if you need further clarification. But in my defense, wait, no, scratch that. I really just don't care. Whatever. And dr soc isn't a car person either, but he is a hard core researcher. So when he studies or looks further into something I pretty much listen to what he says (unless it's navigation or spacial planning, that's my wheelhouse). When I test drove my corolla in 2010 and told him about it, I didn't think much of anything when he said "corollas are good cars."

And they are, Consumer Reports just rated it the best compact car. Anyway fast forward a year and a half later right after we see his ex-girlfriend in Kentucky, newly engaged and in town to look at wedding venues. We sit down for lunch and I'm still being super supportive and giggling at his discomfort.

me: So that was K huh?
dr soc: (sigh) Yeah, that silver corolla with the UGA plate.
me: Wait - she drove a corolla?
dr soc: Yeah (cringe) And, um, D also drove a silver corolla too.
me: That's how you knew they were good cars!
   

Arms Reason

What the ever loving fuck?
https://www.cnn.com/2018/02/21/health/florida-legislature-porn-dangerous-but-not-weapons/index.html
Assault riffles are military weapons whose soul purpose is to cause maximum harm and kill. KILL. Bullets fired from these weapons are designed to kill and they mutilate and destroy everything in their proximity. So why the ever loving fuck are these not dangerous according to lawmakers?

Why does anyone need an assault riffle? Honest to god, someone tell me a reason other than it's the 2nd amendment of in the constitution. A lot of things have changed in the past few hundred years since those amendments were created by a rich white male slave owners. And there was an amendment that didn't work either. Remember that whole alcohol was illegal thing? That was the 18th amendment of the Constitution. There were 2 more amendments added (#19: women get to vote! #20: the presidential term starts January 20 at noon) before #21 when white lawmakers said take backsies! on #18 because society was pretty much just a big 'ol mess. So it is possible to make and repeal amendments that reflect the times. Like #13 - lets make this slavery/owning people thing illegal. Or #22 - no one can be elected president more than twice so the same person doesn't stay in power indefinitely (looking at you FDR).

Once again, please give me a reason your right to own an assault riffle usurps the safety of the general public. Why must humanity suffer again and again from the fragility of masculine insecurity? (yes I know there are women who love guns and shooting too, but these mass murderers have been mostly white males) Even if you don't kill people with your assault riffle, does having that tool to kill innocents make you feel better? Does the ability to destroy countless others' sense of safety secure your own? Do you sleep better knowing your right to own a weapon will never replace all of the other lives destroyed by gun violence?

Give me a reason. Give the world a reason. We are owed a fucking reason.

SHOUTING WILL SOLVE THIS

Apparently the assault riffle used in the most recent (fuck, most recent. Let that sink in) school shooting was bought legally. But legal or illegal, why does anyone have an assault riffle in the first place? And why do NRA paid politicians give those same objects assault weapons more rights and protections than humans women and children?

This is the 18th school shooting for 2018. EIGHTEENTH. THIRTY-FIVE DAYS INTO THE YEAR.
I know once you start shouting you have lost your argument, but I don't know what else to do at this moment. This is becoming normal and IT SHOULDN'T BE NORMAL.

Selfishly I think: how do I protect my children? I can save my girl from a ladybug on the playground, but a bullet at school where I'm not? Maybe I should home school the kids so they don't have to be a victim of another (because there will be another) school shooting. Or buy them bullet proof vests with the rest of their school supplies. Do they make those in size 5T? (my girl is tiny-she may be that size by kindergarten) WHY DO I EVEN HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THIS?

Why does ANYONE WORRY ABOUT THIS? FIX THIS BULLSHIT.

Long Jacket

So, I've already got something to hold over the this next kid's head. Also: thank god it was winter and my coat covers me to about mid thigh.

Before we were telling people I was expecting I was trying to hide (and usually failing) how miserable I felt at times. But other times...
Trigger warning: this is hilarious but disgusting.
We're out to lunch and my stomach/intestines were giving me first trimester nonsense. I went to the bathroom and sat to wait it out. After waiting for a while and nothing happening, everything happened. My stomach revolted and I had a half second to throw myself backwards, bend at the waist and I throw up all over myself. All. Over. I didn't take anything with me to the bathroom (because that's gross) so I was trapped.   

I waited a few minutes until someone else came into the bathroom, and when they finished washing their hands I called out: "excuse me...Um, in the first stall here. Hi, I'm pregnant and I had a bit of an accident..."
I asked a stranger in the bathroom to find my husband (and daughter) in the restaurant, tell him I'm okay, but I need my purse and coat. I thank her profusely when she comes back bringing both, assure I'm okay and thank her again. In my purse I have a plastic bag (to throw up in though lot of good it did me there), wipes to clean up, and my phone to text Mike what the hell is going on.

In the next few minutes I get as much of my lunch off of my clothes into the toilet, bag up all my clothes, and wipe up what the clothes didn't "catch." I button my coat, pull up my knee socks (those were clean), and texted my husband: I'm leaving the bathroom now. I'll meet you at the car. Took a deep breath, grabbed my bags, put my head down and walked out of the McCalisters in just my coat. We're pulling out of the parking lot when I get sick again and throw up out the window of the car. (sorry about that honey...but we're both really glad I made it out the window) And to add insult to injury, I still haven't done what I was waiting to do in the bathroom in the first place!

At home, I take a bath, everything eventually leaves my system in the privacy of my bathroom and I feel better okay enough. The kid takes a nap, and Mike and I settle on the couch to watch football. He asks how I'm doing and I ruefully say: that trench coat fantasy is not what it's cracked up to be.

Menagerie

Little Turkey is Little Turkey because she was due around Thanksgiving.
Little Lion is Little Lion because they're due late July and will be a Leo.
I'm growing quite the zoo.