Due to a new project with BlogHer, it’s very possible I will not be HOME for my birthday on December 10th. If I randomly announce a city…I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me celebrate the dirty pee birthday. I could go on about how I will be alone and sad and cold and maybe forlorn or something…but I know you guys will help me out…right? And we’re not talking turkey this time around…or are we???
It’s not like I care…but…my daughter has an entirely chapped face and my son has a big bump and scratch under his eye.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s Holiday Card Time! Remember last year? And the year before?
This year is no exception. I’m not sure how to stop the licking of the lips so much that it appears the 2-year old suction cupped a red plate around her face, or how to wrap the boy in foam so he doesn’t maim himself.
Doesn’t matter. Cards are ordered and once again they are far from perfect. Our lives are far from perfect. Our home is far from perfect. They are kids. Kids are messy. Hell, I am messy. Our lives are messy. Messier than usual, and that’s saying something.
Now I need to figure out how to sign them. The Royal Family? Count, Princess, Queen, Kaiser, & um…hmmmm. Maybe I’ll just say “Happy Holidays, these are the messy kids we created” and leave it at that. I mean, I can only take up so many lines on the one page card. I don’t think “Happy Holidays (non denominational seems safe) these are the kids as they are this year. Sorry, but I wasn’t there to comb their hair when this was taken, because I was off working, but I think their Dad did a good job…oh, and speaking of him…yeah, lots going on there…oh and me? Yeah, lots going on their too. But as you can see our kids are happy and healthy and totally messy so enjoy the photo and Happy Holidays.”
I really don’t think it’s too much to ask that if I take my daughter to a football game, we walk to get a pretzel and some nachos without being harassed by a drunken mob. Call me crazy, but I’d love to actually sit near Gate D at a New York Jets game and not be groped or screamed at or if, heaven forbid I’m feeling prudish that day, have to duck spit and flying bottles from hundreds of angry men.
Of course my daughter and I could just sit somewhere else. We could go get Mommy a beer and kiddo a hot dog near some other, non infamous gate, and avoid the whole thing- and then I remember this is 2007 and women do have the right to walk in public.
I suppose if I were to take my daughter and I on over that way, I would have been asking for it, right?
And people wonder why I still yell and scream and write about women and gender equality.
Many sports fans (my entire house included…yes, the girls too) are discussing the New York Times article by David Picker describing what happens at Jets home games on pedestrian ramps near Gate D.
Huffington Post contributor Leora Tanenbaum says, “I hate to sound like a broken record, but the sexual double standard is alive and well. Boys will be boys, and girls will be sluts. And across the land, people continue to believe that this is the way it’s supposed to be.” Tanenbaum drew attention and questioned the behavior while commentors asked for proof.
Let’s watch some YouTube, shall we???
As the NYT reports, this whole Gate D party is a tradition at Jets homegames. Meaning, Joe Jetsfan brings Joe Jr. Jetsfan, they share a beer, and join the mob out in the concourse to see how many women they can get to lift their shirts. Tradition. Happy Thanksgiving.
Some women comply. Some women walk away clothed and get heckled. Some women are spit on. Some women have bottles thrown at them. Some women are groped. More importantly…
hundreds of men think this is ok.
I attend sporting events. I am used to the one or two drunken idiots who scream four letter words and spill their beer. Security usually hovers near them and if they get out of hand they are escorted out. There is an entire mob getting out of hand at Jets games, and it’s tradition.
It’s Free Speech! We’re just having fun! Don’t come near Gate D if you don’t like it!
Let me speak in words you Gate D Jets fans understand, “Fuck you.”
Free speech is not harassment. Fun isn’t intimidating. And I’ll go anywhere I damn please, despite the fact I’m a woman. In fact, how about I come with a few thousand of your mothers, grandmothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, and girlfriends? We’ll exercise our free speech to teach you all about mob mentality, harassment, sexual abuse, intimidation, and gender equality issues.
I called Jets’ media relations to float my idea of taking Gate D back for the women. The nice PR phone-answering person took a message and I told them I was working on a deadline. “Yes, the HUFFINGTON POST, no, no…not Hubbington, HuFFington…and yes, BlogHER dot com. H-E-R, yes, BlogHER, yes, a network of over 13-thousand WOMEN…yes, I’d like to talk about the NY Times article, yes, the one about Gate D…yes, Blog H-E-R…”
…I’m still waiting for a call back. In the meantime, I’m going to really mess up Thanksgiving tradition and NOT spend it in the kitchen.
The Detroit Lions kick-off in an hour and my daughter and I have a game to watch.
I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my children, or how the conversation will go…but we’ll miss ya Maggie. 🙁
You know, like Britney.
I think I’m a better parent when *other* people are around. Vistors, family, whatever…I’m on my best behavior.
Less yelling. Less total loss of temper over stupid things like who’s turn it might be to use the nintendo ds.
I don’t think I’m Joan Crawford or anything when people are *not* around, but I certainly get along better with everyone. Or maybe when no one is looking (which is a whole LOT) I’m just lazy.
Lazy Queen. Do laundry, sure…put it away…hell no. Lunch? Thaw a peanut butter jelly frozen thingy. Candy? Yeah, go ahead, I don’t feel like arguing.
Then there is the “Mom away on trip, kids act like perfect angels for inlaws, babysitter, teachers, father, grandparents, etc.” “Mom home and children turn into psychotic little people and melt down over everything and act like barbarians.”
So what does all of this lead me to believe? That maybe work is good and I need to be away from them more. They hate it. But they are BETTER when I am not around. It’s as if life is MORE NORMAL for them if I am not there.
Do I want to be away more? Depends on the day. Not really, but sometimes yes. Maybe I’m just having a bad day but I feel horrible at this “mom” job sometimes.
I work from home too much.
I don’t get down on the floor and play enough.
I yell too much.
I’m lazy about responding to their 400 questions or requests.
I look forward to dinner time so I can pour wine.
I worry all my son’s quirks (he’s currently sniffing his fingers 300 times an hour) are my fault.
I worry I’m too hard on my daughter.
And instead of doing anything, I do nothing. I say ok to cake at 1030am and read blogs.
Sigh.
Blogging helps me think all these things out. Writing has always made me feel better. So just writing all those things makes me realize I’m not awful. I’m not the worst mom ever. I need to improve, yes…but it’s not like these children are neglected. I think. I hope.
Anyway, before I cry. Come visit, you know, for the sake of the kids.
It’s November and naturally that means my children have that ‘fine one week’, ‘snotty and puking the next’ thing going on. It means when Ratatouille comes out on DVD, and we’ve been couped up in the house for a week with some random preschool virus, I go to the store to get it right away.
Now. I’ve talked about this issue before…but can I just please, say this again…just in case you didn’t hear me way-back-when before CARS came out…
STOP SHOWING MY SON YOUR NEW MOVIE A YEAR BEFORE HE GETS TO SEE IT STOP IT RIGHT NOW OR I’M BRINGING HIM UP TO NORTHERN CALIFORNIA AND LETTING YOU PIXAR SADISTS BABYSIT HIS ASS WHILE HE WHINES FOR 5 HOURS STRAIGHT AND DEMANDS TO KNOW EXACTLY HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL WALL*E IS OUT IN THEATRES AND WHY HE CAN’T SEE THE ROBOT NOW AND WHY DO THEY SAY HE IS COMING AND WHEN IS HE COMING AND CAN WE WATCH THE PREVIEW 40 TIMES IN 50 MINUTES SO MOMMY’S HEAD EXPLODES AT MERELY THE SIGHT OF THAT RESTAURANT TABLE WHERE SOME STUPID BRAINSTORMING SESSION TOOK PLACE TO CREATE THIS FUCKING ROBOT THAT I NOW HOPE DIES A FIERY DEATH AT THE END OF THIS DAMN MOVIE
We’re going to buy your shit anyway. You’re not getting any more marketing leverage here. We’re a captive and totally sold audience. All you are doing is making my life hell. HELL.
So really, I see two options here…you can release WALL*E now, or you can send a letter of explanation to my robot-loving son giving him solid reasons (that means I don’t want to hear “to generate buzz” “to market more toys” or “to pump up the hype before the box office release”) why he has to wait until late summer of 2008. I fully understand you need a few good months of hype…but HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD THINK of the PARENTS.
You make amazing movies. They are kid movies, and yes we adults love them too. But I have to ask-DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND KIDS AT ALL? You don’t even MENTION santa is coming until about Halloween, because you KNOW they will be through the ROOF until December 25th. You don’t tell them you are going to DisneyWorld a YEAR before you go.
THIS IS BASIC PARENTING HERE PIXAR. GET WITH THE PROGRAM.
I can swear on my womb that you don’t need to worry about selling us WALL*E toys. We’re buying them. It’s just a GIVEN. My wallet is yours.
Now release the fucker early or babysit my kid. Take your pick.
Theoretically when my children can read, they could easily find my blogs. There are times I don’t close my laptop, there are times I am on the phone saying things like “Queen of Spain” and “Queen’s Bedroom.” My big mouth can be found, easily, all over the web.
I’ve been asked many times what I will say when they see what I’ve written. I’ve talked about them right along with talking about blow jobs. Will they be scarred? Will they feel used? Will they report me to authorities?
There is a story out of Wisconsin about a mom who got graphic with her kids while talking about sex. I have no idea if this woman is a lunatic and did things that would even make me blush. What I do know is this court case sets one hell of a precedent for those of us who speak frankly to our children.
“According to the charges filed against her, Smalley last year told her sons about several sexual experiences she had. She also allegedly described performing oral sex and also showed the two a sex toy.”
I suppose if I were not blogging these things, I’d be talking about them. Outloud. To friends. To family. To anyone who would listen. This is life. I don’t hide. I would tell stories of my life to a room full of friends and talk about sex to a gaggle of girlfriends. It’s who I am. Anyone who knows me will tell you the way I write is the way I talk. So when it comes to discussing sex with my kids…do you think I’ll censor?
I am a firm believer in answering honestly. If my daughter asks me what I do in bed…how I do it…will I answer her if I think I will get PUT IN JAIL? I’m guessing I’ll be in prison before my kids turn 17 if that is the case. Of course I will make every attempt to be truthful yet age appropriate, but I can’t imagine I will hold back much.
How far would I go? How graphic would I get? I would like to think I could describe oral sex, something that got the mother in question in trouble. Show my children a vibrator as part of one of my speeches? Why on earth wouldn’t I if they asked? Are children capable of understanding and hearing these things in the media and public NOT allowed to know what they are, what they look like, what they do????
“Why yes, this is what they look like…it can be used for masturbation, which is perfectly normal and healthy when done in private.” is exactly what I would say.
My children will be totally freaked out and embarrassed by me for about one million reasons. I can think of many worse things I will do, correction, have done, than educate them about sex.
I’ve noticed many people arguing the only way to look at this situation is to imagine it was a father talking to daughters. Accusations of “pervert” and “pedophile” would fly, they say. I just hope when my kids’ father sits down and has one of many discussions with them about the birds and the bees, he doesn’t feel censored because he’s afraid of being imprisoned.
Again, by all news accounts I am not sure what sort of conversation this mother had with her sons, but let’s say she was graphic as hell…maybe she told them she likes it on top. Maybe she told them what she does to please a man. Maybe she was totally inappropriate. She was charged with a felony,
“In the agreement, Smalley pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor charge of exposing a child to harmful material in exchange for the dismissal of a felony charge of exposing a child to harmful descriptions.”
I’d like to know exactly what constitutes “harmful material” and “harmful descriptions” and who gets to decide. I’m assuming this information coming from a parent is also taken into account? Maybe not?
I think I’m just going to start planning for my incarceration. Years from now when my kids are older, they’ll be surfing the net and come across mommy’s blogs. I’ll, of course, answer any questions they have…and then apparently get myself a lawyer.
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