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Infertility Darth-Vader’ed me to the Dark Side of being a Dog Lover

29 Jul

I always knew I only wanted 1 child.  I never once had visions of family vacations with my “children”, or huge holiday events with a big family I spawned… nor have I ever once felt bad about Sullivan not having any siblings.  I have replaced myself in the natural order of human population, and my job is done.  I am also well aware of my limitations, and I only have room enough in my psychological and emotional stability for 1 child.   I had my one child early in my adulthood, and I have my herd of cats, and it’s all good… right?  Apparently my hormones did not think so… and I had never realized just how powerful hormones are.  They are so powerful that they can turn a Crazy Cat Lady into an even crazier Pocket Dog Owner (dog purse and matching decorative leash to boot).

In the beginning of January, a slew of tumors discovered on my cervix were stamped with the “Cancer” diagnosis.  I don’t want this information to evoke any emotion from anyone, because I feel melodramatic even mentioning it (but it’s the entire reason why I am now I creepy Pocket Dog owner, so I am going to mention it).  I am in no way a “Cancer survivor” or even a person “Living with Cancer”… I am at best a “Cancer Tourist”.  I have had many friends who have lived with cancer, died from cancer, or have very much earned the title of  “survivor”.  I did not earn a thing.  I got tagged by cancer and got kicked around a tiny bit by the emotional turmoil it brings with it- but all it took for me to escape it’s clutches was having half my cervix removed, and from now on I need to have biopsies every 6-8 weeks to keep an eagle-eye out for new growths to promptly chop off until there is nothing left of my ill-behaved cervix.  I caught it early and am lucky (ladies… you had all better be getting your pap smears religiously, because the ONLY reason I’m lucky is because I’m religious about my lady-checkups).  But I officially can never have any more kids…. and I’m so very much totally ok with that because the last thing I need is more babies.

What I’ve always found funny about people is that once we’re told we can’t have something, that’s the one thing we want.   After the chop-chop of my cervix, I found myself getting increasingly clingy with the little things in my home.  I kept trying to cuddle and baby the cats far more than they are comfortable with.  I began hovering and smothering Sullivan with maternal coddling FAR more than a 13 year old boy could EVER be comfortable with.  I wasn’t coherently thinking “baby baby baby baby I need a baby baby baby” because knew I didn’t want a baby… but I was trying to make all the self-sufficient creatures around me to be more infantile and dependent on me.   This desperate need to nurture SOMETHING exploded in me.  I was creeping myself out, but I couldn’t really stop it.

About 6 weeks ago my BFF that I work with came running into my office and asked me if I wanted a puppy.  She saved a puppy from a kill shelter, but her dog and the puppy didn’t get along and she wanted to find a new happy home for it STAT.   All afternoon I fought it, but my ovaries were screaming “SAVE THE BABY!!”.  I texted Brad about 50 times debating all the reasons why we couldn’t have a dog in an attempt to talk my crazed maternal drive out of caring for another baby, but he finally said “You know you want the damn thing. Just bring it home”.  And that was that.

I am now thoroughly convinced that someone should have given Octomom a litter of unwanted puppies before she had her litter of babies, much trauma could have been avoided.  From the moment I got the puppy, all maternal screamings were quieted, and she was my new baby.  I have gone from being the adamant cat-lady disgusted with dogs to being that creepy dog owner that carries my dog around in my purse, taking her with me on all errand-running outings, and she has attached to me the way a toddler clings to it’s mother’s leg.  She’s part Chihuahua, and they usually only really bond with 1 person in a family- and despite how much Sully wanted her to be ‘his dog’ – she’s 100% mine.

So I introduce you to my little Chihuahua/Weiner dog (technically called a Chiuweenie) – Monkey.  She’s pretty much the best.  And our cats HATE her.

They day we got her, only 4 pounds.

My little sleeper!!


My neighbor and I and our matching Chihuahuas


The only time I've seen her NOT torturing poor old Oscar

So that’s my story.  From this point on when I obsessively talk about my dog, it is because she is literally my new baby.  And for all you out there who think you might want babies- get a puppy first.  It might just take care of that maternal drive and save you shit tons of money (and your dog will never steal your car when it’s a teenager).

The end.




My mom was a superhero (and I was an ungrateful little prick)

9 Jun

I was raised in immaculate surroundings.  Spotless floors, dustless fans, sparkling windows… even the inside of the damn refrigerator sparkled.  Everything had its place.  Everything was wonderfully organized.  Everything was perfect- always.  And the older I get, the less I understand how my mother did it.  Seriously- it blows my mind.

My parents had “traditional roles” until I was in high school, then my mom went back to work.  My dad took care of the yard, the cars, repairs around the house, etc; and my mom handled the house and the kids.  Both roles were maintained so flawlessly that it looked to be the work of magic.  And even when she went back to work, the housework didn’t falter an inch.  Not one fucking speck of dirt was to be found.  And keep in mind, my folks were raising 2 boys and a girl who was messier than the 2 boys put together.  I pig-penned all over my mother’s beautifully kept house- but you’d never know it to look at it.  But not only did she keep things so clean that you could easily eat out of the toilet bowl without worry, but she was on point when it came to holiday cards, birthday cards, thank you cards, all other social pleasantries, AND making sure that  we kids had our after-school time appropriately filled with sports, music lessons, scouts, and any other fly-by-night interests that we were currently embracing.  3 solid healthy meals a day, a spotless house even with 3 kids dead set on messing it up, every social grace in place, running 3 little arguing brats all around town to soccer, piano, dance and ice skating, and while working.  Again, I have no idea how she did it.

Kids have a tendency to be self-absorbed assholes.  It’s part of their job requirement.  Growing up, I never even noticed how perfect everything was.  But now that I’m an adult with my lone child and house that’s much smaller than my parents- I am slapped in the face by just how much my folks were able to accomplish in a day… and it’s making me wonder if my parents were unnatural superheroes, if the times have changed so much that my generation of parents are just much less organized/efficient, or if there are truly less hours in the day.  Or maybe I’m just a totally crappy parent.

I gave up on “social pleasantries” when Sully was 2.  Thank you cards, birthday cards, holiday cards, etc… I just stopped trying to keep up.  Hell- the  invitation to me and Brad’s wedding was sent out via email if that gives you some idea of just how far removed I am from my mother’s wonderful social graces.  My house is always clean- but I can’t really get on top of it.  I vacuum twice a week, do dishes every night,  scrub the bathrooms every weekend, everyone in my house does their own laundry, I try to enforce everyone picking up after themselves- but at the end of the day I want to lay on my floor and scream at the top of my lungs because there’s still clutter and dust and kid-stuff and Brad-stuff EVERYWHERE!!!!!   Running from work to Sully’s school to the grocery store to Sully’s karate to home for homework to making dinner to doing more work from home and trying to get to bed before 2am leads me to ulcers and sleepwalking.  How did my parents do it with 3 kids?!  And so effortlessly?!?!  It truly blows my mind.

Tonight I channeled my mother.  I borrowed a crazy high-tech rug cleaner from a neighbor and tackled our area rugs.  I scrubbed out the refrigerator, and am moving onto my office (which looks like a tornado hit it).  There’s such a wonderful calm that I feel when I visit my parents house- and I want some of that in my house.  I know that the majority of that calm comes from the fact that my parent’s house will forever be “home”… but it also comes from the fact that when I’m there, I’m not surrounded with chaos.  The beautiful organized calm that my parents house radiates does wonders for my OCD, and I can actually relax when I’m there.

Is it pathetic for a 34-year-old married mother to want to move back home and live with her parents?  It probably is.  Good thing I abandoned my shame years ago.

Thanks, Mom.

Openly embracing 2010 because 2009 was the biggest jerk EVER!

1 Jan

HAPPY NEW YEAR, my little kittens!!!!!

Historically, I’ve never really cared about the New Year, because all my years tend to run together and having a “starting over point” didn’t seem applicable to me.

But 2009 was a whole different situation.  2009 was just rude.  It was the equivalent of an abusive ex-boyfriend that wouldn’t leave me alone.  As much as I tried to say to myself “Whatever, 2009- I don’t care about you and I’m not going to let you affect me anymore.  Just leave me be to exist in peace, and let me quietly wait for something better”, the lower it sunk in it’s attacks to prove it’s place in my life.  The more I ignored it, the louder it screamed. Day after stupid fucking day.  But now it’s dead, and I don’t ever have to hear it’s name again.  I’m welcoming 2010 with open arms- and looking forward to it helping me repair the damage that 2009 did.  Day 1 of 2010 is in effect, and things are already looking brighter.  Thank you, dear sweet 2010.

We didn’t even try to get a babysitter last night to go out for new years (because we’ve been parents long enough to know that it’s a futile quest), so we had some family over and just had a fun little new years at home.  And Sully and I made these:

Our little 'non-gingerbread' houses

My little gumdrop snowman!!!

When I try to bake/cook anything with more than 4 steps in the recipe, things go disastrously wrong.  So we opted to use graham crackers for the housing structures instead of having me attempt to make perfectly formed gingerbread walls/roof for the house .  Sooooooo much easier and fool-proof!  They’re sloppy and silly and won’t win any awards- but it was a SUPER fun way to spend an evening.

Then I was met with a horrifying discovery this morning.  Since all of Sully’s regular pajama pants were in the process of being laundered, he threw on a pair of pajama pants he hasn’t worn in a couple months.  And this is now how they fit:


Someone explain to me how my 11 year old little boy grew THIS much in 2 months??  Is that even possible?  His doctor told us to expect for him to shoot up in height in the next year… but this is crazy.  At 11, he’s only about an inch shorter than me (and I’m 5’4″).  He’s going to be 10 feet tall by the time he’s 16 if this keeps up, and I don’t know if the psychological hold I have on his behavior will hold up when he’s towering over me.  This makes me a little more afraid of his upcoming teen years (and Brad- being the stepdad- is downright terrified).

Off I go to start my New Year taking my 2 oldest cats to the vet.  Leo (the ancient crypt keeper) needs a shot, and Oscar (almost as ancient, but doesn’t look like he’s falling apart like Leo does) has gotten a cold and has been sneezing nonstop for 3 days.  As hilarious as it is to see a cat having sneezing fits, I don’t want my little buddy miserable.  And Sluggo is too in love with Oscar for anything to happen to him.

Proof of Sluggos love for Oscar (they sleep like this everyday)

And to entice my friends and family to cash in on the trips they’ve been planning to come out and visit us, THIS is what winter looks like where we live….

Our orange tree is producing more oranges that we could ever eat.  No snow (unless you want to build a snowman, then it’s a painless drive to the mountains).  No scraping ice, salted roads, or chained tires.  No crazy heating bills, and you don’t even need to bring a sweater.   Sound nice?  I’m  not complaining.  And times like this make understand why the cost of living is so damn high out here.

To all of you, have a super happy new year (and the best cure for a hangover is Pedialyte- I swear to god).


Raising a godless child in a bible-thumping culture….

28 Oct

If you took 3 steps into anything I have posted online, you’ll know I have no god (and I’m not going to capitalize the word “god” throughout any of this.  It’s not to offend- it’s just that I since I don’t see god as a ‘being’, I don’t feel the need to use the word as if it’s a name).  I will admit that I have truckloads of religious baggage (guilt, shame, and threats of eternal hell and damnation for natural human behavior and feelings will do that to a person).  It took YEARS to reclaim my soul from the Christians, and I’m pretty fucking psyched to have it back.  And I’m working through the religious baggage, piece by piece, and eventually that will be gone to.  But until it is, I’ve got a bit of a knee-jerk hatred for Bible Thumpers (I WILL capitalize “Bible Thumpers” throughout this, because they ARE actual beings, and that is their name).  Bible Thumpers make me really really fucking mad.

Now, I’d like to explain something before I get into the main topic for this little soapbox rant.  I have NOTHING against religion.  I have NOTHING against Christian beliefs.  In this sick, jaded, and overwhelming life, if someone can find something that gives them safety an hope- I’m all for it.  I don’t care if it’s Buddha, or Jesus, or the Virgin Mary, or Satan, or Captain Crunch… it’s all fine by me.  I’m 100% behind safety and hope, and I’ll pull out my old cheerleading uniform and do leg-kicks and backflips all day long for that safety and hope.  What I have NO FUCKING PATIENCE for is religious pressure, judgment, and intolerance.  And that is what a solid 95% of the Christians that I’ve encountered are all about.  I was raised in the church- and when I say “in the church”, I mean I was in the choir, and went to bible camp, and did the “Young Life” youth group ickyness (and to this day, sing-alongs give me the fucking creepin’ willies), and I lived in a full-blown WACKADOO Southern Baptist group home for 2 years in the middle of the woods in Missouri… so I’ve known shit-tons of Christians.  They were my peers, teachers, family, family friends, counselors, doctors, etc etc etc.  And that 95% of the Christians that were filled with religious pressure and judgement (which is what made them hateful and intolerant of anyone that wasn’t Christian) grossed me the fuck out.  I’m in NO WAY saying that ALL Christians are like this… because parents are Christian and they are amazing.  My neighbors are extremely religious and they’re some of my favorite people.  I have friends who are devoutly Christian, and they’ve never once judged me.  But those are the Christians who act like Jesus- and not like Christians.  Do you get the difference?  95% of the Christians don’t.  And they’re the ones I’m talking about here.  They suck so many balls it’s ridiculous.

So, with that being explained, I happily have no god.  Both Sully’s dad and stepdad think there’s a slight possibility that there might be something bigger than us- but neither of them give a shit about what it might be.  And since there is no god “in our hearts”, it would be a monumental life-fraud to raise Sully with any sort of religion.  What I did do was teach him about ALL religions.  I then told him that no matter what his family believes, if he finds a religion that makes him feel safe and gives him hope, we are 100% behind him.  But I did tell him that he had to wait until he was at least 18 to really dedicate his life to any specific religion, because it is one of the biggest decisions that a person could make.  For a while when he was 5 he said he wanted to worship Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon when he grew up (he was going through a Greek Mythology phase).  But aside from that, he’s had no personal interest in any spiritual path.  And because he’s such a mini-Spock, he thinks that bible stories are hilarious because they’re so illogical.  Instead of having a god to teach Sully right from wrong, we use his logic, reasoning, and The Golden Rule.  We have raised him to never judge others on anything but their actions (and if they’re acting mean, take a look at why they’re acting that way, and try to help if you can).  We’re devoted to empathy, tolerance, understanding, and love.  And because of this, Sully is polite to the point of annoying, has a heart so big that even at age 11 he still tears up when he sees someone else is hurting, and tries to be a friend to everyone (even the kids that don’t like him).  Doesn’t sound like a damned child to me… but the Christian kids at his school see differently.

HERE is where my rant comes in.  HERE is where I say “Fuck you, ‘god’, and fuck your people”.  Because “god’s” people are fucking with my kid… and mama lion is PISSED.  We live in Huntington Beach, California.  To those of you who aren’t familiar with Orange County- it is VERY conservative here.  Mormons, zealots, and right-wing evangelicals are the main population (if you want the liberal Californians, you’ll have to go about 40 minutes into Hollywood… you’ll find them there).  Since it’s so very evangelical-Christian here, Sully is going to school with the Christian’s spawn.  And this year, the Christian’s spawn have decided to make Sully’s atheism their business.

Sully has been taught to not talk religion to people besides us because it is a very personal thing.  He used to be really bad about this- but the past couple years has gotten really amazing at respectfully staying away from religious debates and conversations that may cause trouble or hurt feelings.  I’ve felt this was really important in order to teach him respect and tolerance of other people’s beliefs.  But this year at school, it’s gotten around that he’s an atheist, and kids have been confronting him more and more about it.  The final straw was today in his gym class, he was cornered by 3 boys who were demanding that he talk to him about god, and telling him that he’s going to hell.  Sully politely told them that he doesn’t believe in hell, and that his religious beliefs were none of their business.  They started to get intimidating and threatening, and Sully dodged them and went straight to the gym coach and said that he was being “degraded for his religious beliefs” (Sully’s exact words… he’s pretty awesome).  The coach thanked Sully for handling it so maturely, and swept the other boys into his office.  But nothing else was done.

Here’s where I get pissed.  If this was 3 Christian kids vs a Jewish kid, or a Muslim kid, or a Hindu kid- there would be serious repercussions because these are accepted as valid belief structures.  But because it’s an atheist kid… no big deal.  It’s just a “boys will be boys” situation when Christian kids gang up, threaten and mock another kids beliefs because those beliefs don’t have an imaginary friend tied to it.  And what’s really ironic is that even though I’ve done everything to try to teach Sully to be accepting of ALL people’s beliefs and ways of life… the people that he’s growing to despise are Christians because they are the ones who mock, terrorize, and humiliate him BECAUSE of their beliefs.  I try to tell him “Grandma and Grandpa don’t act that way, and they’re Christian!  What about our neighbors- they’re fantastic and they’re Christian!  Not all of them are mean like that.  You can’t hate an entire group of people because of the actions of a few”…. but he only knows what his daily experiences have taught him.  And his daily experiences are teaching him the Ways of the Bible Thumpers are sick and wrong.  And I’m finding it harder and harder to put on a sympathetic smile and continue to teach tolerance when his belief structure is being belittled and mocked.  What I really want to tell him to do is beat the shit out of them with  the complete printed works of  Darwin, and then jump up and down and scream “SATAN HAS DEFEATED YOU AND I NOW OWN YOUR SOUL!!!!” just to scare the stupid little fuckers.  But that won’t do any good.  We ARE going to get him into karate so that if these kids decide to corner him again, and try to throw a punch, he can- in self defense-  beat the Holy shit out of them (pun very much intended).

What I want to know is how much tolerance do I teach him?  If he was just getting picked on because him and these kids didn’t get along- that would be one thing.  But this is because the God Squad doesn’t like that Sully isn’t on their team, and their using mafia-like intimidation to try to get at him because of it.  How do I keep explaining to him to not hate the Christians when all they show him is hate because they are Christians?

I think that Jesus would tell Sully to beat these stupid kids to a pulp.  Jesus seemed like a pretty ok guy for his time… his followers, on the other hand, are making me want to sacrifice their young.



HORRAY for mediocrity!!!

16 Jun

Brad left for tour a week ago, kicking and screaming (and I mean that almost literally).  He’s recently developed a severe phobia of flying- and add to that the fact that it’s been ages since he’s been on tour, so he’s grown a little too comfortable being at home and didn’t want to go “back to work”.  I lovingly shoved him out of the car at the airport, told him to go earn a goddamn paycheck- and it’s been me and Sully flying solo.  I’ve got no problems doing the single-mom-thing while Brad is away (I did it before Brad was in the picture, so I slip back into that role with ease).  And there are perks- like less Man-mess infiltrating my clean home.  But this month was a pretty shitty month for Brad to go earn his paycheck.

He had to leave a few days before Sully’s birthday- which Brad was BUMMED about.  And in 2 days, Sully’s school year ends and then it’s a couple weeks of “what the fuck am I going to do with this kid while I’m at work!!” stress.  But my parents (being the AMAZING people that they are) are coming out for a week to hang with the little fella while I work- so that lightens my load considerably.  And the folks are coming into town just in time for Sully’s “Graduation”.

Here’s where the title of this little posting comes into play.  Sully is moving from the 5th grade into the 6th grade.  As proud of him as I am that he survived another year of existing in the academic world- does this really warrant a “graduation”???

This is one of the MANY examples of why the youth of our country are growing up to be spoiled lazy brats- and things like this drive me fucking batty.  Going from the 5th to the 6th grade is not a ceremonious accomplishment… it is a social expectation.  Ceremonies are supposed to be special things, marking a major life accomplishment, or a rite of passage.  Graduating from high school is the embarking of adulthood.  Graduating from college is the beginning of new major life paths and the celebration of a difficult accomplishment.  Weddings, funerals, birthdays, baby showers, etc… these are all ritualistic ceremonies that celebrate the beginning or finalizing of different important stages in life.

The problem is when we start having ceremonies for simple and expected behavior, then nothing is sacred anymore.  When children are praised, rewarded, and put on a pedestal for doing things that are simply expected of them- then why work harder for that higher goal?  Kids are SUPPOSED to move from the 5th to the 6th grade.  This isn’t something that deserves a fucking ceremony- it’s something that a kid should just DO.  We’re not supposed to shit our pants, either… so should I get a round of applause every time I don’t shit my pants?  No… because I’m EXPECTED to not shit my pants.  But it’s cute to dress our kids up in little hats and robes, and it’s precious to parade them across a stage and give them little computer-print-out diplomas and make a little event out of it.  But in reality, it’s celebrating the mundane- and tainting the specialness of REAL accomplishments that are deserving of a ceremony.  And what it teaches our kids is that all they have to do is the bare minimum- and they’ll get a fucking party. Total bullshit.

But yes… I’m attending Sully’s little “graduation” because it would be ultra shitty of me to be the only parent not there because I see the ridiculousness of it all.  But no, we’re no making a big thing of it, or inviting all the family, or having a party afterwards.  When he graduates from high school and college- both of those will be deserving of festivities.  But moving on to the 6th grade?  Gimme a break.  This is deserving of a special “end of the school year” trip to the ice cream parlor…. NOT a god damn ceremony.

On a lighter note… there are 2 gallery shows that I’m currently in that if you’re in the neighborhood you should go and check out.  First is the current exhibit at the Strychnin Gallery in Berlin, Germany titled “Midsummer’s Night Madness”.  It opened a couple days ago, and there are TONS of artists that participated.  You can check out pics of the opening night on their official blog HERE.

The second show I’m in is in Brooklyn at the Eastern District.  The show is titled “Plenty of Room on the Couch”, and again there are TONS of artists in this show.  AND all the pieces in the show are under $300!!!  I’m super giggly about this show because my pieces are in another show with the diabolical Steve Smith– a glorious fella and amazingly talented artist that I’ve had a show with before (and we’ve been aching to show together again).  Click on his highlighted name above and check out the wonderful things he does.

Finally… I’m doing oodles of “Tinys” drawings again.  If you’re unfamaliar with these little guys, they are drawings no bigger than 3 inches by 3 inches.  They come framed in tiny ornate frames- and they make me giggle.  I’ve got a few on the webstore– and there are more to come.  Here’s a couple of these little guys…..

Tiny Oops! There goes my hand!

Tiny Hauntings

Tiny Hauntings

That’s all the love I’ve got to give for tonight.  Off to vaccume the house, and make some cookies for my folks arrival tomorrow afternoon, then more drawing drawing drawing.

Go-Go-Gadget hugs to you all!

Rampant and irresponsible breeding should be a punishable offence…

1 Feb

Before reading on, check out the story on the mother of the new octuplets…

Grandma: Octuplets mom obsesed with having kids

When I first read about this mother-of-8, the media had yet to release the name or any other information about her- so I refrained from ranting until getting all the facts.  Now I have them.  My response?

Vomit vomit vomit fucking VOMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is complete and utter bullshit on so many levels that I don’t even know where to begin.  There is no excuse for this, and I see having this many babies at once (or having this many babies   PERIOD) as irresponsible to the degree of neglect, and should be punishable as such.  And then to read that the mother of these new babies has 6 other children, no job, lives with her parents, and is psychologically unstable… and a fertility doctor went ahead and loaded her up with embryos anyways?  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?????

Let’s put this disgusting individual lady aside, and look at how many children one family should have.  I can’t say what the exact number of kids per couple should be- but over 10 is WAY too many.  There are over 6 and a half BILLION people on this planet… do we really need more?  Really?? It’s selfish and grotesquely narcissistic for someone to think they are so spectacular that they need to reproduce their genetic code that many times.  It honestly makes me ill.  I have 1 child.  The amount of time, money, energy, work, and attention that 1 child needs is intense…. but fully necessary.  And every child born deserves that amount of time, energy, work and attention in order to grow into a healthy and functioning adult.  Every child you have cuts that amount of time and attention down, and doubles the work load (and the expenses).  These aren’t puppies or kittens we’re talking about… they’re people.  And their emotional and psychological growth depends on the parents.  So when a couple decides to have litters of children- how are they going to keep a thumb on the development of each one and have the time to give special attention that is so vital to every single one of those kids?  They can’t.  Even if they have the financial resources for 1 of the parents to stay at home with the kids all day- that’s still too many kids.  In a day care center, BY LAW there needs to be 1 adult for every 3-4 kids.  So how, by law, is it appropriate for there to be 1 parent to 14 or 16 or even 18 kids (like those sick demented fuckers the Duggars).  Yes, I know that alot of the Duggar kids are now older and can care for themselves, but what about when they were little?  How much attention did they get?  And what about this tragedy of a human who just had 8 babies, with 6 already at home (all 6 are under the age of 7, one of them being autistic).  That’s 14 children all under the age of 7, and a special needs child being raised by a single parent.  Yes, these children will be neglected.  And this is a tragedy.  My mom was an only child, so she wanted alot of kids.  But my parents have common sense, and knew that creating alot of kids on their own was socially irresponsible.  So they wanted to have 2, and adopt 2.  My older brother and I were adopted, then they had my little brother… and then they said “woah… ok… that’s enough!!”.  My mom has told me that you should only have as many kids as you have hands… because the one who’s hand your not holding at all times is running with scissors in traffic towards that stranger with candy.  2 hands = 2 kids.  That makes sense to me! (and on a global scale, with overpopulation being the #1 cause of all our environmental problems, it makes even more sense).

What about the doctors who allowed Nadya Suleman (the octuplet’s mother) to get in vitro fertilization, without any regard for her mental state of mind or her current financial ability to care for these kids?  Her own mother has publicly announced that Nadya is mentally unstable- so why didn’t the doctors take the time to find this out?  Their job is to make sure this woman has kids… so doesn’t it make sense that they should take a few minutes before embarking on this task to make sure that she’s MENTALLY FIT to have more kids?  Or at least financially prepared to take this on (Nadya is currently unemployed and lives with her parents)?  And how is it responsible to allow her to carry ALL 8 babies when she already has 6 at home?  Is it really that big of a deal to pluck a few of them out once realizing that all the eggs stuck?  I don’t care what your stance on abortion is… it is NOT GOD’S WILL or natural in any way for 1 woman to carry and give birth to 8 babies at one time (which is why it took a team of 46 doctors to deliver them).  Why are the guidelines for adopting a baby that is already born and waiting for a family stricter than the guidelines for undergoing insane medical treatments for creating a herd of babies?  If Nadya went to an adoption agency and told them she wanted to adopt more babies- after glancing at her current situation (already having too many kids and not having any income), they would laugh and slam the door in her face because she’s not fit to care for any more.  So why didn’t the fertility doctors take the time to investigate this?  I would think that the mere fact that after 6 kids, she would want to be a single parent to more would throw up some red flags.  AND HOW DID SHE PAY FOR THE FERTILITY TREATMENTS????!!!! That shit isn’t cheap.

This should be considered a crime.  Nadya’s own mother sees it as such.  All 14 of those children are going to suffer and have difficult lives because their nut-job of a mother couldn’t stop making babies.  Shame on Nadya Suleman; shame on every one of the doctors who helped her create horrible futures for these babies; shame on Nadya’s family for not intervening in this situation before she created a dozen + new lives to care for when they KNEW she wasn’t right in the head; and if there is a God, I hope to hell it gives these new babies a little extra attention- because they sure as fuck aren’t going to get it at home.  ALL her kids are going to need all the help they can get.

And Oprah had better not give this lady a dime, or an ounce of praise.  Seriously.

Monsters make everything better….

28 Jan

As I’ve stated in previous posts, I’ve been a little grumpy and overwhelmed lately.  And as much as I try to put on the “bright and shining” face for my son- he’s noticed (mainly because he’s not a moron and is really in tune with what the emotions of people around him are.  This is a quality in him that I hope sticks so that he doesn’t become one of those useless fellas who never has a clue as to what is going on with thier wife).

Sully usually gets up at around 6:30-7am.  I don’t get up that early.  As much as I try… I just can’t.  But for all the ways that Sully is high-maintenance, as far as mornings go- he’s a great solo pilot.  Every morning, by the time I’m shuffling around trying to pry my eyes open, he’s already dressed, has eaten a well balanced breakfast of fruit, yogurt, and cereal, has his backpack packed, teeth brushed, hair brushed, and is usually sitting in the kitchen reading.  Yes… I know I am very very lucky.

So this morning as I stumble through my office trying to wake up, I noticed a drawing sitting on my desk.  After breakfast, Sully spent the morning drawing me a little something to make my day happy…. and here it is:

From the brain of a 10 year old boy.....

Next to the drawing was a little note that said “Are you laughing yet? Love Sully”.

And yes…. I was laughing.  HARD.  I have the greatest son on the planet.  And the rest of my day was 100% tolerable because of his hilarious little drawing.  I think it’s mandatory that I get this guy tattooed on me.  Seriously.

Due to my recent stresses, I’ve started sleepwalking again… but with a weird twist.  I’ve mentioned before about my sleepwalking adventures (waking up all over the house, having rearranged furniture in my sleep, etc), and it seems to kick in when I’m going through rough life-patches.  This morning, I woke up and I wasn’t wearing my pajamas.  I use the term “pajamas” loosely, because I usually go to bed in whatever I was wearing that day (except if I was wearing jeans, then I’ll change into leggings or something).  But when I woke up, I found my leggings on the floor in the middle of the bedroom, and as I ventured through the house I found a trail of the rest of the clothing that I went to bed in.  So apparently not only am I sleepwalking again, but performing strip-teases for dreamland audiences throughout the house.  My biggest fear with the sleepwalking is that I somehow get out of the house and wander through the neighborhood.  This would now be especially bad if I did this after going-nudist.  I’ve won over most of my neighbors… but this isn’t a way to keep friends in the conservative and tight-knit suburban community that we live in.  I’m going to have to tie bells to my ankles at night to wake Brad up if I try to wander.

But all-in-all, today was a good day.  Thanks to Sully-monsters.